Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 December 1884 — Page 6

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Sweet KouJ of Soug. fipeejt houl of Bomr. yt*ars Jlavo never dimmed thy fdrgin truth, For more ami more thy bounty ohoerts AVhile love renews thy youth; Xet Uluoma thy cheek, the etars belong Unto those beaming eyes of thine. And no while hairs presume toahine Upon thy brow, sweet soul 4 oii£. Sweet soul of song, to thee The gods a lofty purpose gave To charm with laughing melody The peasant, king and slave; To sweeten good, to conquer wrong Ami ungel strains of joy extend, Till all admit thee as a friend Sincere and true, sweet soul of aonjL True jives and faithful hearts Areioysd subjects of Lhiue own While sweet devotion man imparls, To all around thy throne; In solitude or hasty throng Thy measures many a pleasure bring, Ami nations bow tiveir heads to eiug Glad praise to thee, sweet soul of song. Sweet wonl of song, the gold Os sadly mute, melodious worth Within thy strains will ne'er be old, Wlfie Music walks the earth; thy voices fuTl and strong Flow onward, onward, onward range To sound the mighty scenes of change With lyric note, sweet soul of song. fiweet soul of song, embrace A grander labor in thy gentle arms Till peace shall clasp the human race And banish war's alarms! Boothe Passion into slumbers long With "lullabies of love and peace Till fiat es and sorrows have surcease in lasting bliss, sweet soul of song. —Freeman E. Miller. HKLf.MiOHO, laid. December. Wintry winds are blowing. Young eyes bright are glowing, Boys snowballs arc throwing. Glists the flakes are strewing Into heapm and fences o'er. Shut the door. Children corn are popping, Brisk the grains are hopping Heitor, skelter, stopping Baugh nor dance, as dropping Past they chase it o’er the floor. Shut the door. Day has ceased its dreaming: Ins*' * light is beaming. Outside it is streaming On faces strangely gleaming, As they bend them lower, lower. Shot the door. Crowds their steps are rushing, Wasted cheeks are flushing. Some their fears are hushing. Some their hearts are crushing. Let remorse the pain restore. Shut the door. Coming, going, meeting, Into dim ways fleeting Glance weird figures, greeting Other forms retreating From the light they know no more. Shut the door. Watching, in black robing, Sits one stricken, sobbing. Sight and brain a-throbbing. Death despair is robbing, As he glides swift ont before. Shut the door. —lda May Davis. Tennyson’s First “Freedom.** Os old sat Freedom on the bights. The thunders breaking at her feet; Above her shook the starry lights; She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoiee Self-gathered in her prophet mind; Bnt fragments of her mighty voice Came rolling on the wind. Then stept she down through town and field To mingle with the human race. And part by part to men revealed The fullness of her face— Grave mother of majestic works. From her isle-altar looking down w ho. god like grnps the triple forks, And, kmg-iike, wenrs the crown: Her open eyes desire the truth; The wisdom of a thousand years Is in them. Moy porpet oal youth Keep dry their lightfiom tears; That her fair form may stand and shine. Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine The falsehood of extremes. —Alfred Tennyson, in his youth. A Puzzle. We two had a row, Somehow. Fsrhaps she was fretful and 1 didn’t care. Or, perhaps I did something that she couldn’t bear. Or, perhaps a depression advanced in the air; But however that be the disturbance was there, And a storm began to brew. At first it muttered And hard words were uttered; Then harder and hard r, until things grew Soprem. ly unpleasant for each of the two; And I came to think We had reached the brink Os the grave of a friendship whose loss we should rue. So I begged her pardon—what else could I do? She declared she was sorry—l hope it was true. And the tempest's frown Smoothed slowly down, And it rumbled, and sighed, And whispered and died Away. Yet all 1 can s*y To this very day Is—we two had a r*w Somehow. Bnt I couldn't make out What brought it about. And 1 don't know now. —Vanity Fair. The Lark. The lark’s voioe dies when fall the leaves. And when* wore hftaped the harvest sheaves The crickets chirp the whole night long, The morning of the c-ltilly day. Through boding clouds breaks dim and gray And wakes no burst of matin song. Bnt in a myriad lowly nests Beneath a myriad pulsing breasts. Through noontide heat and twilight dew Life out of shapeless void took form, That voices still through shine and storm Might sing the mother-song anew. What matter if we hear them not Bnt lie in some still place forgot, Dust crumbling into older dust. The song shall still make glad the earth Life triumph over death through birth, And doubt be satisfied in trust. —Mary H. Kmut, in The Current. A Kiss Is Praise. Ask not one least word of praise! Words declare you re yes are bright! What then meant that summer duy’s Silence spent in one long gaze? Was my silence wrong or right? Words of praise were all to seek! Face of you and form of you. Did they find the praise so weak When my lips just touched your cheek— Touch which let my soul come through? —Robert Browning's "Ferishta’s Fancies.” ’Tsvas Ft or Thus. Boston Courier. Ob! sweet is the morning of pure wedded love. When joy gilds existence, when faith is unshaken. Alas! thAt the ,103’ should o transient prove, That from the bright dj*cam we must *oim day awoken. Time brings us at last to the gall in the cup, Life loses the glow of affection s adorning, When quarrels ensue as to who shall get up And kindle the fire on a geld winter morning.

A WAT!WARP WARD. i. It is the business of the philosopher, as the world knows, to tind law ami order in even the most abnormal phenomena; to suggest, at least, an adequate explanation of every enigma. For what other purpose does he exist than to throw light on the surrounding darkness? He is a torch bearer to humanity’s ignorance. If, now and again, by reason of a pessimist tempera ment or defect of training, the rays he sheds around intensify rather thau dispel the gloom, and cast shadows as of Egyptian night across man's forward path, surely he misconstrues his mission. But the wisest head is sometimes puzzled, and the shrewdest explorer of the all-environing mys tery is sometimes confounded. A problem presents itself which cannot be solved by any of the familiar processes. The why of some suddenly disclosed fact is as inscrutable as the Sphinx of the Eastern desert. It was thus with Bernard Ralston. Those who thirst for fame, as misers thirst for gold, or, coquettes for admiration, would have found much to envy in this young man’s position. At an age when a statesman is currently supposed to be studying his parliamentary primer, and when a future general may still ho writhing under the sarcasms of a barrack-room instructor, Bernard Ralston had been welcomed into the front rank of philosophical thinkers. His book on ’ Instinct, Conscience and Reason” was read and criticised by the few, praised and avoided by tho many. The noisy heterodox claimed him as anew and promising recruit; and so, also, to the amusomop.t of tho onlooker, did the stanchest maintained of old landmarks. He was flattered, feted, and the lion of his season. It was from this suddenly acquired distinction that his embarrassment had approached. The solicitor's letter that was the beginning of sorrows made this clear. It ran thus: "Dear Sir—We have to inform you that by the will of our late client, Mr. Humphrey Power, you are appointed sole guardian of his only surviving daughter, Olive. As this may he in the nature of a surprise, we beg leave to quote tho precise paragraph of the will: ‘And 1 hereby empower 3lr. Bernard Ralston to act in every respect as the guardianof my child. I am sure that Olive can have no fitter or wiser protector, none better qualified to advise and to regulate her life; and should he—as I earnestly beg—accept and fulfill this charge, I give and bequeath to the said Bernard Ralston, over and above such reasonable expenses as he may have incurred on my daughter’s behalf, the sum of £5.000, to be paid by my executors on my daughters's twentyfirst birthday, as a small tribute of my grati tude* “The young lady is a veryccnsiderableheiress, in her eighteenth year, and at present at a pri vate pension in France. Further particulars will follow on your reply. We are, dear sir, yours obediently, Fanshawe & Fitch.” Tho gift of the proverbial white elephant could have produced in no heart a greater con sternation. What should a retired and solitary student, of serious pursuits and uncourtly manners, answer to such a challenge' If Cleethorpe Hall were largo, it by no means followed that he wanted more life within its hounds; and a girl in her teens, a mere child, as with the sage wisdom of five and-thirty years he considered her. How could her presence by his fireside he harmonized with the quiet current of the life he elected to live! Yet, the bait of £5,000 was a temptation. The glories of Cleethorpe Hall had been sadly tarnished through the improvidence of Bernard's father, and philosophy is not a particularly re raunerative hobby to ride. Mr. Humphrey Power’s legacy, if not precisely a fortune, would be an assistance in the keeping up of the restricted Cleethorpe establishment. The matter was debated long and anxiously, and as the result Jliss Olive Power arrived at the hall one snowy February morning. Slight of figure, winsome of feature, with merry, violet-tinted brown eyes, and lips continually parting m a piquant smile over teeth of whitest pearl, Bernard Ralston was forced to admit, that, if he was properly to protect his ward, his position might not prove a sinecure. Neither did it Tire girl's beamty attracted suitors as cloverblossoms allure bees; and it was soon an open secret in the countryside that Mis* Power, as well as being a lonely and a lovely young tiling, was a richly-dowered one. This brought the sometimes lugubrious voice of Prudence into reasonable accord with the chorus of adoration. But Olive was not minded to ho an easy capture for any of her wooers. With a woman’s inBtiuetive dexterity, she kept them all at bay, and at twenty had escaped the necessity of as yet re fusing any offer in formal and equivocal terms. She was developing a taste for study which half amused, half interested her guardian. One evening lie playfully rallied her on her application to sundry big tomes in the library. "I shall be accused of transforming a merry and bewitching young lady into a blue-stocking —a disciple of my own dry-as-dust pursuits,” he said; "someone some day may have special cause to blame me, I fear.” A sudden blush was on the maiden’s Cheeks, and her glance fell. It was impossible that she should misinterpret Bernard's meaning. “There is Oswald Harbury to think of,” Olive’s guardian was daring enough to add. Two shining eyes were momentarily uplifted. Was the Hash they gave one of indignation, of scorn, or merely of confusion at a betrayed secret? Bernard could not guess. "The nature of my employments can make no difference whatever, in any way that I can im agine, to Mr. Harbury,” she answered. Then —it seemed to Bernard a strange transition—- " Will you forgive me for asking a favor?” she weirt swiftly on, "1 should like—oh, so much!— to help in your work. Gould I not copy out your notes or revise proofs sometimes?" What philosopher could have successfully resisted the volunteered help of such an amanuensis! Not Bernard Ralston. It was summer, three months later than the dale of this conversation. Olive's guardian was seeking his ward in her own boudoir, with a gloom upon his face and a depression of soul which defied his analysis He had a message to convey and a proposal to informally submit which be had little dodbt would be accepted. Oswald Harbury, the young owner of half Glee tliorpe, had asked permission to lay himself and liis fortunes at Olive's feet. -He loved her, be said; he would do his best to make her happy. "And I believe that he will. He has a home to offer you and is a true-hearted, honorable gentleman. As your guardian Olive, lam bound to give my sanction to so fair and promising a suit. May I hid Mr. Harbury to come nnd plead his own cause?” He bad spoken hoarsely and in a queer, far-off kind of voice that ire hardly recognized as his own. It was suiely singular and must testify to an unexpected weakness of character, that the prospect of separation from the ward orig inally received with so much doubt and dread should tints make havoc of his peace. He waited for an answer in a suspense that was I positively harrassing. At last it came. "No, you may not,” Olive said, "unless, indeed, you wish to get rid of me—to send mo away. And even then, for I cannot consent to marry a man I do not love!” Send Olive away! Wns not every pulse in his body beating with fierce, unbidden joy at the verdict she had given? The measure of his recent terror was the measure of his present re lief. ‘ ‘That is a fear which my ward—my wayward ward—never need harbor," he said, with a slow, broad smile; “she has brought too much sun shine into my lonely life for me to wish to lose her. But change is inevitable some day.” “Why?” a low voice murmured; and again came the mysterious illumination of Olive's eyes. "Because, Olive—if for no other reason—the years of my guardianship will soon be at an end,” lie answered, steadily, almost sternly. He must face the future absolutely, as befitted a teacher of his fellows And a few seconds later his quick, nervous step Was echoing in the passage without, li. An early summer vacation in Switzerland—when the glorious Alpine flora should be at its loveliest—had been the cherished dream of years to Bernard Ralston, and at last it wns realized. A woman's hand bad guided his steps thither ward. Oilvo Power had persuaded him to lay aside his work and make playtimo of the sunny woathoT, * ‘'Youcan finish your book on ‘Vantty ns a Force in Human Affairs’ when you return, and the critics will all say that tae last chapters are

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1884.

the brightest,” she said, pleadingly. And when site added a slight involuntary expression of her own eagearnes* for the change, he surrendered. Tire trio—Miss Ralston, Bernard's sister and housekeeper, was Olive's chaperon—had not been from England a fortnight. They had reached the Riffel and were tints en- ! camped under shadow of the majestic (grim and j uncouth, for variation of epithets) Matterhorn I itself. Here Olive went isto ecstasies. To watch the sunrise bathe tho lagged, furrowed sides with waves of liquid light was an occupation of which she never tired. And then there was the Horner grot to visit, tho Gorner glacier to see. At the hotel there was pleasant rtmpany, including a couple of young Americans w ho swept the ordinarily reserved and cautious student forward into a participation in their own rockless adventures by the sheer force of ontliusiasm. The three went _off one afternoon on a quest for edelweiss. Tho gloom was thickening in gorge and pass, and gray shadows were following the crimson sunset glow on tho huge crests aloft before there was any sign of a return. The ladies grew uneasy, Stories of accident and of awful peril were staples of the conversational bill of fare in the hotel salon and inevitably exerted their influence on nervons minds. In this ease the presentiment of evil was bnt too surely justified. Two of the venturesome explorers returned weary and disheveled, but Bernard Ralston was missing. "We thought he was before us,” explained Mark Croxford, the elder of the brothers. "We drifted apart among the bowlders ar.d ice-ridges of a glacier edge, and we looked for him to rejoin us at the lower end of the track. Not meeting him, we supposed' he had hurried away hotneword.” A sudden chill had gone to many a heart in the little group of listeners. The thought of Srecipices and of their hidden and treacherous angers was in every one’s mind. A search expedition was quickly organized and started. "I hear footsteps behind,” said the guide, halting on the first stage of the journey and prominently displaying his lamp. "Why, it is Miss Power!” cried Mark Croxford in astonishment. It was indeed Olive. With blanched cheeks and agonized eyes hut dauntless resolution, she insisted on accompanying the seekers. It was at her request that Bernard Ralston had come to Switzerland. If he had perished would it not, in a sense, be her fault? Better that her own life should have been sacrificed. To persuade the girl to return was useless—only a loss of precious minutes. With a muttered growl of disapprobation the guide was compelled to allow her to proceed. Hours were spent in vain pursuit "Guide, is there any hope?” demanded a stal wart Cornishman at last “I fear none,” he answered; "at the bottom of yonder chasm”— His words were cut short. "A cry, half triumphant, half fearful, slipped over Olive Power’s blood less lips. "Listen! I hear a groan,” she said. A silenee that might be feit prevailed. "Tho wind across tho glacier, miss," answered the leader in sulky despair. “There is nothing for it but to go back.” "I will not,” the girl declared, “until you tell me whoso voice that is. Hark! It is no sound of wind!” Again they listened, and again without result. Mark Croxford gently laid his hand on Olive’s arm. "Believe me, you are mistaken, Miss Power,” he said. “You do not suppose that any one of us would give up this search if the least chance remained? But the guide knows best.” And yet, as he uttered his melancholy remonstrance, there was a sound from ovei the neighboring ice floe hard to credit to even the most eerie of Swiss breezes. "There! Surely you hear it now!” the girl said. If only to make clear the girl’s folly to herself, the quest was recommenced. The quick ear of love had not blundered, after all. This time a chance gleam of the guide’s lantern over a jaerged precipice side revealed a dark form huddled against an inner ledge. It was Bernard Ralston, insensible from the affects of his perilous fall, and proving that he still lived only by an occasional groan. “I beg pardon very humbly, Miss Power,” Mark Croxford whispered. ##**# **### "And they tell me, Olive, that I owe my life to yon,” the convalescent said, wheeled ont on the broad mountain terrace of his resting place. "How shall I contrive to repay you, I wonder. Do you know—nay, yon caunot know—l had a dream this morning. After the doctor had left my room I dozed, and it seemed to me that—that the dearest girl in the wide world—and surely the bravest—came to my side and smoothed down the pillow—and—dare I whisper the Words? caressed my forehead. It was singular, was it not? Something in the poise of the averted face awakened a swift suspicion—a keen thrill of happiness. "It cannot be that—that it was not a dream?” he queried. “That rtiy ward is Willing to be still dearer—to be my wife?” Tho small palm was not withdrawn, the lovely crimsoned fade was swiftly and momentarily upturned, as he had seen it twice before, and this time a look of ineffable content was mirrored thereupon. "If you really desire so to extend your guardianship of your wayward ward.’ ” mischievious accent answered. And Bernard Ralston’6 somotime problem had becomo bis dearest treasure. Love itself had taught love's lesson. PIERCED BYOCPIn’S DART. Sail Condition of a Yearning Y’onth Wlio Is Dead In Love, Piedmont Press. A young man in this neighborhood has been courting a charming young lady for about two years. Some time since a young man from White tame down and seemingly estranged the affections of the young lady from our neighboring young man and he was taken sick the very next day and was net able to be up for three weeks The poor boy got better and remained so until his girl went on a visit to relatives in •Jackson county. llu attended a corn-shucking at the house of a neighbor one night and the ladies present began to tease him about his girl. He fell over speechless Tire doctor said lie had the cramp colic, but the truth was he was dead in love." The young chap kept raving about hie loved one, and asked his brother to get a horse and go immediately for tier. It was at 12 o’clock at night. The bro tlrer wanted to wait until morning, but the love sick swain persisted. The brother would not go at all, and our loving friend concluded he had better get well. He is recovering now and will soon be able to go after his girl himself, which will be inueh better than to send. The Marriage Fair in Brittany. San Francisco Chronicle. Tho marriage fair, the institution of which dates from time immemorial, was held as usual this year on the 22d ult., St. Michael's day, in the little village of Penze, in Brittany. In pursuance of the singular custom, all the marriageable girls with a dowry, from that and neighboring villages dressed in their best finery, climb on the parapet of the bridge, on which they sit in rows. Naturally enough all of them are anxious to win a suitor; they therefore vie with each other in showing their personal attractions. One shows a fine waist; another allows a pretty foot and ankle to peep out from under her dress; a third bares a shapely arm. while a fourth exhibits a forest of long hair. The eager vomits soon advance along the footway of the bridge and examine the eligi ble girls. They, too, are at great pains to make the best possible impression—this one curling an incipient, mustache, that one throwing hack his thick locks, and others, again, walking to show off their upright bearing. When one of them fancies one of the girls he steps up to her and offers his hand to help her to alight from the parapet. If lie is to her taste she takes the proffered hand, jumps down, and negotiations at once begin with the parents standing by. Should all inquiries turn out satisfactory on both sides ‘the young couple strike each other’s open hand and the affair is concluded. The marriage follows soon after. Rejoice, Ye People That want fine clothing at low prices. The SI odd Clothing Company has bought out the cn tire stock of fine clothing of Simon Hays & Sons, of Rochester, IN. Y., at 410 cents on .tire dollar Tide firm was celebrated for manufacturing very fine elationg. Adding -this stock to our own makes tire <• mermans amount of $220X100 worth of fine clothing to l: -sold at less thau iuaun faotnrers cost. Rejoice, ye people. Rejoice. j .Mourn. Clothing Company.

FOJIEIGN FACT AND FANCY. Mr. Pepper, a gentleman well known in the Irish sporting world, acted Lord Norbury to suggest a name for a very fine hunter of his. Lord Norbury, lthnaelf a good sportsman, who knew that Mr. Pepper had had a fail or two, advised him to call the horse “Peppereaster.” Mr. O’Connell, whose arrest by the civil power, as he was proceeding to meet Mr. Peel, was sup posed not to he quite involuntary on his own part, was soon after arguing a law point in the Com men Pleas, and happened to use the phrase, "I fear, my lords, I do not make myeeif under stood.” "Go on, go on, Mr. O’Connell," replied Lord Norbury, "no one is more easily appro bended. ” I must tell you an anecdote of old Talleyrand. Murray wanted an autograph to engrave. S. E. benignantly consented, and taking a long sheet of paper, wrote his name. You guess where —at the very extreme top of the page, so elose that the French lady, who wrote with a feather from the humming-bird’s wing, and dried it with the dust of the butterfly’s wing, could not have squeezed in an L O. U. Lady Warrender told me one day that her alliance with Sir George was a crying proof of the falsehood of the proverb “that marriages were made in heaven.” I ventured, as she had taken a laughing toue about it, to say that, on the contrary, I thought it a strong proof of a providential arrangement, as there would otherwise have been two unhappy couples instead of one. She laughed very good-humoredly, bnt I believe the joke was plain truth. A DEFINITION FOR CONSCIENCE. All the Year Round. A teacher, giving a reading lesson to his class in the presence of an inspector, asked the boys what was meant by conscience—a word that had occurred in the course of tho reading. The class, having been duly crammed for the question, answered as one boy, "An inward monitor.” "But what do you understand by an inward monitor?” put in the inspector! To this further question only one boy announced himself ready to respond, and his triumphantly-given answer was, “A ltironclad, sir.” HOLMAN HUNT’S PICTURE. Paris Morning News. Mr. Holman Hunt’s great picture of the "Flight Into Egypt” is now within a day or two of being completely finished, i’he work has had a singular history. The canvas obtained in Palestine proved so bad that, after years of labor spent on the picture, the attempt to cure the defects of the canvas had to be abandoned; and in January of last year Mr. Holman Hunt commenced repainting the whole work on anew canvas. It is this second picture that is now finished. In about ten days the work will be brought to Paris to be photographed, and it will be exhibited in London before Christmas. WHY SHE WAS LOVED. Paris Figaro. ■lt is related of Mme. de Circourt, at one time a reigning belle in Paris, that her mother once said to her: "My poor child, you are too ugly for anyone ever to fall in love with you.” From this time Mme. do Circourt began to he very kind to the pauper children of the village, the servants of the household—even the birds that hopped about the garden walks. She was always distressed if she happened to he unable to render a service. This good will toward everybody made her the idol of the city. Though her complexion was sallow, lier gray eyes small and sunken, yet she held in devotion to her the great est men of iior time. Her unfailing interest in Others made her, it is said, perfectlySrresistible: HEIDELBERG CASTLE. Philadelphia Telegraph. Heidelberg Castle, the most magnificent and picturesque medieeval ruin in Europe, is in danger of destruction. A railway has been carried under it, through a tunnel, the blasting of which has shattered many parts, while the thnndering trains do further damage. A society called the Sehlosevereio has been organized to raise funds for its preservation, and an appeal is made for assistance. Annual subscriptions ns low as three marks (seventy-five cents), are asked for, and the New York banking house of Knauth, Nueltod & Kuhne is authorized t# receive contributions from Americans who may be willing to help to preserve a grand structure which is one of the chief delights of tourists in Europe. OOFEEE AT PUBLIC HOUSES. London Truth. The public house is the poor man’s clnb. Ho goes there for company and sociability as much as anything else, I verily believe that if there were half ns many coffee-houses in the country as there are public houses, the drinking either of beer or of spirits would be reduced by fib or 70 per cent. Take, for instance, a man trudging along the road with a cart, lie passe* a public house every half mile, and often more fre quently. Hersduli. He is irresistibly Impelled to go into one of these houses and have a ‘nlo." The nip means warmth, rest, and a few words interchanged with others. If he could have equal opportunities to obtain these by baying a cup of coffee, is it not very probable that he would prefer them? AN EARL IN A BAD WAY. * London World. I regret to hear that the Earl of Dalhousie is breaking up his establishment at Brechin Castle, and proposes retiring to more economical quarters at Gannachie, a mere shooting-lodge in the foothills to the westward of Brechin. It is probable that both Panmure and Brechin Castle will be let. Lord Dalhousie’s nominal rent roll is little short of £50,000 a year; but he succeeded to a debt of a quarter of a million sterling, and to estates which had suffered from a long period of neglect Tho effects of this neglect he set himself enthusiastically to remedy, by giving his tenantry generous concessions of rent, building new steadings and laborers’cottages andengag ing in extensive improvements, 'which, in the present had times, yield no return on tho somewhat lavish outlay. Hence the necessity for a retrenchment, which I trust will be but temporary. WELLINGTON’S SYMPATHY. Sir George T. Napier’s Memoirs. About the middle of the night, as Dr. Hare was sitting dozing in a chair opposite Lord March’s bed, who had lallen asleep, the door of the room gently opened, and a figure in a white cloak and military hat walked up to the bed, drew the cur tains quietly aside, looked steadily for u few seconds on the pale countenance before him, then leaned over, stooped his head and pressed his lips on the forehead of Lord March, heaved a deep sigh and turned to leave the room, when the Doctor, who had anxiously watched every movement, beheld the countenance of Wellington, his cheeks wet with teare. He had ridden many a mile that night, al.me, to see hie favorite young soldier, tho son of liis dearest toiend. He then returned to his headquarters, having first made every inquiry respecting the siek and' wounded, and given such orders as were neces saTy. I)6 this betray a want of feeling in the! Duke? It needs no comment Tho fact speaks for itself. BUGCLECOH’S OOODLY HERITAGE. London Troth. The entailed estates in Scotland to which the preseut Duke of BucCleuch has succeeded extend to upward of *4.70,800 acres, and include the magnificent seats of Bowliill, Drumlanrig Castle and I*alketth Palace. The preseut annual rental is about £170,000, which is at least 20 per cent less than the return of ten years ago. The Duke also comes into the Boughton estates, in Nortbente, near Kettering, and he gets a property in Warwickshire, near Rugby, the two being now worth abont £28,000 a year. 1 hope he will soon make it his business thoroughly to restore Houghton, the interesting old manor-house of the Montagues, which is surruuuded by some of the finest woods in England The Duke's piers at Grantee bring in £IOI9OO a year, his minerals and quarries are worth nearly as much, anil he owns* valuable urban property in Midlothian. The Duke will receive about £500.000 from his father's personal estate. His income, therefore, will be about £270,000, on 1 which pittance even a duke can live handsomely. THE YOUNG I‘EUSON ABROAD. London Truth. ' The other day 1 entered the billiard-room of a restaurant, not a hundred miles from Temple Bar. Presently n girl of about twenty came in. She was well, but not showily, dressed, and appeared to be a lady. She eat down on one of the benches, lighted a cigar, and entered into , conversation with tho men beside her. Their. alarm was comic in the extreme; they fidgeted” uneasily, answered in monosyllables, and one ' finally belted front the room. With a -smile of disdain site buttonholed tlie marker, and asked hint several questions which showed thatsho perfectly understood the game, and having el ic- 1 ited from hint that there was often a pool in the. evenings, annouuced that she "meant to look-in!"

At this threat the alarm on the spectators’ faces deepened into horror, but the fair stranger was perfectly unmoved. When she had finished her cigar she went away, and we all breathed more freely. lam bound to say that her behavior was, if unorthodox, strictly proper. She copied in every way the manners of the sterner sex, and obviously wished to he treated as a man and not as a woman. RUINS AT KNOCK DEMOLISHED. London Truth. The Irish antiquarians are much exercised at the ruins of the Knock Church having been demolished. As I understand the facts, the ruins stood in or near a cemetery, and belonged to Sir Thomas McClure. The cemetery needed enlarging, and Sir Thomas would not sell land, but agreed to allow the ruins, which were on land belonging to him, to be carted away. The ruins are described by Mrs. C. Hall, in her "Sketches in Ireland,” and to judge from a woodcut which accompanies her letter press, there was an arch with a sculptured head of St. Columb, which really ought not to have been sold as rubbish by the Belfast guardians. It would seem, too, that a mural tablet of great beauty, which bears an inscription to some of the Harailtons, who were buried iu the chnrch, h&9 been laid hold of by one Samuel Pink. Above the Latin epitaph the words, “‘Samuel Pink, of Strandtown,” are engraved, and the said Samuel proposes to have the tablet placed over his own body whenever the time comes for placing that body under the sod. FOR ’THE LITTLE OSES. True Gentlemen. The Helping Hand. "1 beg your pardon!” and, with a smile and a touch of his hat, Harry Edtnond handed to an old man, against whom accidentally stumblod, the cane which he had knocked from his hand. “I hope I did not hurt you? We were playing too roughly.” “Not a bit,” said the old man. “Boys will be boys, and it’s best they should he. Yon didn’t harm me.” "I'm glad to hear it;” and lifting his hat again, Harry turned to join his playmates with whom he had been frolicking at the time of the aeci dent. "What do you raise your hat to that old fellow for?” asked his companion, Charley Gray, “He is only Old Giles, the huckster." “That makes no difference,” said Harry. "The question is not whether he is a gentleman, but whether I am one; and no true gentleman will be less polite to a man because he wears a shabby coat or hawks vegetables through the streets instead of sitting in a counting-house.” Whieh was right? Love Is Stronger Than Death. Tonrgueneff. I returned home from tho chase and wandered through an alley in my garden. My dog hounded before me. Suddenly he checked himself, and moved forward cautiously, as if he soented game. I glanced down the alley, and preceived a young sparrow with a yellow beak and down upon its head. He had fallen out of the nest (the wind was shaking the beeches in the alley violently), and lay motionless and helpless on the ground, with his little unfledged wings outstretched. The dog approached it softly, when suddenly an old sparrow with a black breast quitted a neighboring tree, dropped like a stone right before the the dog's nose, and with raffled plumage, and chirping des)erately and pitifully, sprang twice at the open, grinning mouth. He had come to protect his little one at the cost of his own life. His little body trembled all over, hie voioe was hoarse, he was in agony—he offered himself. The dog must have seemed a gigantie monster to him. But, in spite of that, he had not remained safe on his lofty bough. A power stronger than his own will had forced him down. The dog stood still, and tamed away. It seemed as though he also felt this power. 1 hastened to eall him hack, and went away with a feeling of respect Yes, smile not. I felt a respect for this heroic little bird, and for the depth of his paternal love. Love, I reflected, is stronger than death and the fear of death; it is love that supports and animates all. Tad Lincoln’s Fast-Day Finnic. Bt. Nicholas. If there was evet a boy in danger of being “spoiled” it wfts the youngest, sou of President Lincoln. He was foolishly caressed and petted *oy people who wanted favors of his father, and who took this way of making a friend in the family, and he wasjivingin the midst of a most exciting epoch in the country's history, when a boy in the White House was in a strange and somewhat unnatural atmosphere. But I am bound to say that Tad, although he doubtless had his wits sharpened hy being in such strange surroundings, was never anything else, while I knew him, but a boisterous, "rollicking, and absolutely real boy. Great was Tad’s curiosity, in 1864, to know what was meant by tho President's proclamation for a day of fasting and prayer. His inquiries were not satisfactorily answered, but from the servants he learned, to his great dismay, that there would be nothing eaten in the White House from Sunrise to sunset on fast day. The boy, who was blessed with a vigorous appetite, took measures to escape from the rigors of the day. It happened that, just before fast day came, the family carriage was brought out of its house to be cleaned and put in order. Tad stood by, with feelings of alarm, while a general overhauling of the vehicle went on, the coachman dusting, rubbing and pulling things about, quite unconscious of Tad’s anxious watch on the proceedings. Pretty soon, drawing out a queer-looking bundle from one of tho boxes under the seat, the man brought to light the part of a loaf of bread, some bits Os cold meat and various other fragments of food from the larder. Tad, now ready to burst with anger and disappointment, cried, "O, O! give that up, I say! That’s my fast day picnic.” The poor l:id, from dreud of going hungry, had cautiously hidden, from day to day, a portion of food against the day of fasting, and had stood by while his hoard was in danger, hoping that it might escape the eyes of the servants. He was consoled by a promise from his mother, to whom he ran with hie tale of woe. that he should not suffer hunger on Fast Day, even though h's father, the President, ’had proclaimed a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer for all the people. Mr. Holman's Kind Heart. Washington Critic. For three years past there has been a little crippled fellow named Wilson about the Capitol. He is only.fourteen or fifteen years olii He tried for two years unsuccessfully to gota.position as page in the House. He could get nothng. At the opening of the last session Mr. Holman, of Indiana, took the case up. And Mr. Holman, on account of his economic character, has not much influence with the powers that appoint to places in the House. He could not get the boy a place. But he put -in a resolution directing the Door-keeper to employ young Wilson as a page. The resolution went through and the hoy was employed. But he was net allowed to go on the floor. Mr. Holman put him to nrui-k us an assistant door-keeper of .the House” committee on apprqpriations. jThere he staid during the last session. But this session Willie Wilson found bis occupation gone. Mr. Holman's resolution to give the boy employment did not, technically, cover both sessions, so Willie Wilson was left out. To-day -Mr. Holman, by unanimous consent, introduced a resolution providing that the boy shall bo employed during the remainder of this Congress. The resolution was referred to the committee on accounts. Mr. Holman is a pretty good fighter, and he will, in all probability, be successful in this laudable endeavor. The Well-Dressed Mss. The Mentor. The golden rule in dress is to keep clear of extremes. The well-dressed man never wears anything striking or peculiar, and hie garments are always of the best material, one suit that cost SSO being preferable to two suits that cost, is2s each—ana tho tailor's risk, it will he observed, is just the same in both esses. We are bound to add, however, that the gentleman who has but one suit instead of two, cannot escape, embarrassment when it comes to sending liis trousers to the shop lor the purpose of having the wrinkles pressed out of them. The proper cut for coat aud vest is that which makes them fit snug around the waist and loose over the chest, s the polite eitisen is thus admonished at' ®very turn that lie will not only look butter, hut also feel better, if be stands straight

WHIMSICALITIES. Now the buskers are arrayed on Many a dusky barn’s wide floor, Every swain beside his maiden Round the heaped-up golden store; With what blissful expectation Do they watch the corn appear. Till the sadden osculation Loud proclaims the rare rod ear, —Burlington Free Press. It is hut a step-oh Down to the dep-oh. The way is quite steep-oh That leads to the deep-ph. I elipped on a grape-oh Just by the day-poh. In a store near the dee-pet I bought this small tea-pot. Perhope, to end the agitation, We’d better henceforth call it station. —Exchange. Politeness is to a man what beauty is to A woman. It creates an instantaneous impression in ms favor, while the want of it exercises as quickly a prejudice against hint, Man: "How many fish have you caught, huh?” Boy: "Oh, I couldn't count ’em” Man: "Why, you haven’t any, yon little wretch!” Boy: "That’s why I can’t count ’em.” An Easton man and his wife quarreled at dinner and separated. This wus some years ago, and they have never come together agaiD. The table still stands uncleared, and everything remains as they left it. The London, Brighton & South Coast railway is having built two ferry boats suitable to carry railway trains across" the English channel. "Through to Paris without change,” will presently be advertised, if all goes well During a recent examination on natural history in a school, a student, in the pursuit of knowledge concerning the habits of animals, said to the examiner: "Why does a eat, sir, while she is eating, turn her head first one way anil then the other?” "For the simple reason,” replied the examiner, “that she cannot turn it both ways at once." A preacher whose custom it was to indulge in very long sermons, exchanged with one who always preached short ones. At about the nsual time for dismissing, the audience began to go out, until nearly all had left, until the sexton, who had stood it as long as he could, walked up to tho pulpit stairs and said to the preacher in a whisper: “When you get through lock up, will you, and leave the key at my house next to tho church?” The Verdict. London Fun. First Irishman (waiting in the corridor, to his friend, rushing in from the court)—“Whatfs Thu got?” Second Irishman (in a breathless whisper)— "For loife!" First Irishman—“ For loife!” (With emotion.) "Och, shure, be won’t live half the thoime!” Want To Be an Owl. Pittsburg Chronicle. "I wish I was an owl," said the young lawyer, as he gcutly felt the dimensions of her Alligator belt. "Why?" she asked. “Because then I could stay up all night, you know, dear,” he replied. “What would you want to do such a ridiculous thing as that forr she tittered. "To wit;—To woo!” Quite Proper Caution. Pock. There is a story of a roan who was *ried for stealing a pair of trousers. He was ably defended, and the jury brought in a verdict of net guilty. The prisoner's counsel collected his foe, and then said to the vindicated statesman: “Well, got out. You’re free.” “I’ll wait till he goes,” returned tho victim of slander, pointing to the plaintiff. “I don’t want him to see me,” “Why notf’ ‘ ‘Cause Tve got them breeches on. ” Pie in Massachusetts. Boston Letter. All Boston eateth of the pie. The broker ami hanker climb the case stool and bolt their pie and coffee. The shop girl carries in her lunch box from her frowsy boarding-house a triangle of pie. Tho newsboy hath flis pie in his mind as he trudges through the storm. Our Supreme Court judges eat pie with gusto. Pie is tho masterpiece of New England home cookery, in Maine they still make those deep apple pies —clove flavored, generous, ample pies that one can make a flavorous meal of. The Indian in our Massachusetts coat-of arms holds a pie-knifo in his hand, and our State motto, properly translated, reads: . ‘ ‘We will have a piece of pie if we have to figkt'for it.” She Coincided with Htin. Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph. Jarphly, who was reading the evening paper, happened upon an item which told of a young woman eioping witli a coachman, and leaving a luxurious homo for the fascinations of a stable. He read it, and absent-mindedly ejaculated: "What fools women are!” "Ain’t they!” indorsed Mis. Jarphly, who bad overheard the remark. "Ah —hem, yes; do you think so?” asked Jarphly, in some perturbation. “Certainly,” emphatically responded his wife “Greatest fools on earth!” "What makes you think so?” "Why, I never look at you but 7 think so,” replied Mrs. Jarphly; and Jarphly meditated. Prefers a Certainty. Wall Street News. "My beloved daughter,"die said, as he stroked her golden curls with one hand and scratched his shin -with the other, "next week is vour marriage;” "Yes, papa, and I wanted to ask how much money I am to expect from you.” "H’in, well, in caso wheat goes up five cento per bushel I shall probably make the check for SIO,OOO, but in case wheat takes a drop of ten cents you must not expect such liberality.’” “Oh, no, no; of course not, but I was just thinking that perhaps you’d like to give me $25 cash m hand and settle the whole matter now. While I do not doubt your integrity of character, it takes money to go on a bridal tour to Chicago ’’ Made It Out of Oil. PltUburg Chronicle. "And so you are comfortably fixed now,* pleasantly remarked one lady to another. "Oh, yes; we own our home, and are getting along very well,” replied the other. "How "did your husband make hie money!* was asked. "Ont of oil,” the reply. “Oh, boring for itf’ "No, ma’am.” % "Buying oil land?” “No, ma’am.” "Speculating?” “Oh, no.” "How did he make fits tnonqy ont .of Ifi then?” "By keeping out of it.” Base Rail’s Successor. Hartford Post. "My 6on, my son," exclaimed a good mother, as she welcomed her stalwart pride home, "what is tho matter? What has happened? Have you been run over by the cars?” "No, mother, no, it is noth—” "There, it’s dynamite, I know, or you wouldn't have your face all patched—” "It’s nothing, nothing, mother.” "Fell down stairs -and broke both legs. Oh, those crutches—” "No, I didn’t fall down stairs, 1—” "Then you must have run against a lamppost in tuo dark, or you wouldn’t have your arm, in a sling,” "Do keep quiet. Don’t be alarmed, motherW*e won by two goals and threo touch-dowas.* “Well, I’m glad, if that’s all; but why di4 they use you for the football?'’ Motto for Progressive Euchre Parties. "He who hopes at cards to won Must never think that cheating’s sin; To make a trick whene'er he can, No matter how should be the plan. JNo ease of conscience should ho make, Except how he may save his stake; The only object of his prayers Net to bo caught aud kicked down stairs." An Unkind-Cut. Providence Journal. The latest bulletin of high life is that Miss Mackey is going to marry Don Fernando Colonna, Ihriuco of Galatro, It is not stated to’Whom he has disposed of bis barber shop.