Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 27, Number 25, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 February 1878 — Page 1

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vol. xxyn no 25. INDIiVNAPOLIS, WEDNESDAT MOHNIKe, FEBRUAllY 6, 1878.. WUOIxE NO. 21G.

A STREET ARAB'S PRATER.

BY SARAH T. BOLTOX. Two waifs opon the stream of time, Outcasts, without a home or name; Born in the haunts of Bin and crime Heirs to a heritage of shame; Two wandering Arabs of the'Btreet, With tattered clothes and bare, brown feet. One, crashed and mangled till the life Was slowly ebbing from his heart; The other, racked with fever's strife Beyond the healing power of art; Their pallid faces nestled there. Framed in a mass of tawny hair. One murmured, with a plaintive sigh, "Say, Bobby, did you ever hear Of Jesus? Maybe when you die Hell come and take you up from here To heaven, and there you wont be poor, Nor cold, nor hungry any more. At mission school I heerd 'em say He goes about a-doing good, And, If you'd ask Him, night or day, He'd come and help yon all He could. Who knows but He'll come round to-night And ydu would know llim, Bob, at sight." "No," said the boy, whose eyes grew dim, "I don't know where the man might be; And a great ffentfeman like Him Would hardly stop to speak to me; But If He comes around, I'll try To ax him doctor says I'll die. 1 never heard of Him before ; But, Bill, If I could only walk I'd try to find Htm shut the door; It hurts me so I can not talk." Then, Bobby, Just hold up your hand, And If He comes Hell understand." Up went the trembling hand to tell eeds that the white lips could not speak, Fluttered a m ment there, and fell Went up again; but ah ! too weak Was little Bib to hold It there And then he wept la his despair. "Don't try It, Bobby," said his friend; "Give me your hand, I'll fix It up." And with his pillow end to end. He deftly improvised a prop. And all night lonat the voiceless prayer Of that small hand was offered there. And when the morning looked abroad. And sunbeams kissed that silent bed, The hand still pointed up to G jd, And little pauper Bob was dead. But, by his face so calm and fair, Men knew that Jesus had been there. Written for the Sunday Sentinel. ALL FOR LOVE. BY MRS. 8ALLIE A. RAM AGE. Chapter VI. There was no time to be lost waiting for explanations, for Mrs. Thelps was too querulous to allow any one else's convenience to be consulted when she desired their presence or aft. She was thin and worn, the result of disease no more than of a fretful, fault finding disposition. She allowed her hus band not one instant's rest, but kept him continually employed ooing her bidding, and she repaid him with frowns and confplaints. Her daughter scarcely dared to approach her, for she was declared a "pest and a torment." Poor little May; her life "was one continuous struggle between the caresses of an over indulgent father and a scolding mother. Will Phelps had changed more than seemed possible. His face was deeply furrowed by the lines of care and disappointment, for be bad found to his sorrow that forbidden pleasures bring a harvest of remorse. He had married Kate Mason in an hour of beguilement, when entirely fasci nated by her wit and sensual beauty, but deeply had he regretted his unlucky choice. 20 sooner was the vow spoken that bound her to him than begin an endless round of jealousy and upbraiding. Too late he saw his mistake, and if with his life he could have purchased freedom, gladly would he have made the exchange. But a" Bense of manhood and honor born of memories of Maggie had kept him by' Kate's side. When Hay was born his heart seemed to now to her as a natural current, and thenceforth he never answered his wife's foolish suspicions or paid any attention to her continual mur murs against him. When she had finally succumbed to the insidious foe consumption he started with her, in a vain hope of finding healing in some part of the world. They wandered in every clime, paused at ever fabled point of health, and finding no relief. at last came as a laet resort to the epriDgs amid the Colorado mountains. And here, broken aud wretched, backed with disease and consumed by mental strife and warfare, Mrs. Phelps was fain to rest. "Miss Maggie," as everybody at the institution called her, trusted to her changed appearance and her position to keep her safe from Mr. Phelps recognition, and she was secure. He did not recognize her at all, but leaving his wife and child to her care he went away to attend to some little details of the journey they had accomplished, nor did he return until safe in their own room the nurse left them. Mrs. Phelps as usual began to complain, but ' her voice was too weak to expend it in need' less talk and she was forced to be content with making every one miserable. She ordered them all from ber room, sending for the nurse to come and keep ber company, Willing to do all that was possible for the dying woman, Maggie went to her and whiled away the long dull hours of weariness with her pleasant chat. She talked of every thing but the past, and in no way did she communicate her knowledge about the party. At length Mrs. Phelps spoke of her husband, and though it was ungenerous she sorely abused him for faults that existed only in her imagina i n. "He doesn't love xne that is the reason be leaves me, se long. Ah well, I know the reason, and I will get even with him when I get better. How soon

will I better, Mi.s?" and she paused waiting for l.i name. "Miss Maggie," was the quick rep. "I can not tell you; but I am sure of one tiling, you must be more quiet or you will make yourself worse." "Well, I don't care; I want to die anyway. Will thinks only of May, and the sooner I am dead the sooner he can have her all to himself. Ah! husbands are not very loving when you lose your good looks and begin to get old and ugly. Don't you think ec? Were you ever married? Oh! I forgot; you are a miss. Well, you have escaped a worse lot than being an old maid. You can never tell whether your husband loves you or whether hois fooling you; I am sure I can not' "Why, Katie!" and her husband opened the door and listened for a moment "you are not thinking of what you are saying. You know I love you. You must not believe all she says, Miss V 4,Miss Maggie," inter posed Mrs. Phelps. He turned for a glance at the bowed face just beside hint, and in a flash he knew the sweet, pleading expression, the delicately moulded features and the lustrous eyes. "Miss Maggie !" and he slowly put out his hand, but she gave no sign of recognition, but, ignoring the proffered palm, borred courteously and left him and

his wife. . Chapter VII. 'It is the one thing on my mind night and day. If I could only hear her say, 'I forgive you,' I could die happy, but as it is, it rests ike a terrible load on my soul. O Will, save me to get back home, and I will hunt forever until I find her." ' "Katie, you must be quiet; you are very ill, and you must be still." But the poor, wandering mind did not comprehend the meaning, nor cease its ravings. "Bring her to me, and I will give you back to her. Ah, it is no wonder there have been no blessings on our marriage. Her face, like a spectre, has haunted me, and I Bee it now by me. Pity, pity, Maggie Phelps, I implore!" "Kate," and the calm, quiet nurse took the cold fingers, already chilled with death, in her own warm clasp. "Kate, lam Maggie Thelps, and as I hope for pardon I forgive you all the harm you have done me." The dying woman was quiet in an instant "Maggie, will you prom ise me one thing? When I am gne will you take May and raise her?" No, no, Kate, I can not Anything else?' "But I beg you to say yes. See, I am dying. Would you refuse the last prayer of a dying woman? Let me do this. I took your hus band, and I give you my child." Scarlet. with blushes, Maggie, to quiet the sink ing, pleading mother, promised her that she would indeed take May as her own child. The scene was terrible. Will Phelps knelt by the side of the deathbed, while Maggie supported in her arms the invalid. She gave no sign of noticing the weeping, trem bling man, but was pale and calm. "0 Maggie, then have ' been days and nights when I felt and knew that God would punish me for robbing you of the one love of your life. I never loved him, but I wanted him for his money, his position, for his appearance. I knew that I was committing a sin when I drew him on to declare to me his love, the love that belonged to you. Ah, you will have him now, when I hoped to keep you forever from him. He loves you; has loved you always, for he married me when piqued by passion. But I have been even with him. He got no love, for he gave rone O raise me; raise me quick! Give May to me. One kiss, my child ; you are to be Mag giea and papa's now. It will be papa and mamma before the grass grows over me. Will I be forgotten by all; or will you t;ach ray child to love me? Kiss me good-by, Will ; now the next kiss is for her," and with a parting caress the proud beauty was dead. They gathered delicate Mowers from the valley and placed them in the slender fingers and at the white throat Maggie robed her for the grave, and the tears were bitter that fell on the cold brow. "She was punisbe 1 at last," whispered the sad heart, "and I for give her as I forgive him. They need none of my anger, tor they have suffered. I will try to step back into my old duties and forget these few weeks of pain. He must take May, though the poor child clings to me tenderly, but while I forgive I can not, I must not, forget to be true to myself." To be Continued.! The Cost of m PHwnccrCsr. Passengers in railway ctrs often wonder how these carriage can so long endure the wear and tear and shocks of travel. The detailed items of the expense of construct ing a first class standard passenger car at the Altoona horof the Pennsylvania railroad. published in Engineering, tolve the mystery. The whole cost of the car is $4.423 75 The leading Items are, for e&sentiala: Labor, 1.263 94; wil of various kinds, ash predominating. $316 91; whet-ldand axles. $332 85: pasoonkrer car trucks. $533 62; air brakes, $131 J: various other small, but Indispensi ble articles carry the price of the car, unadorned and without luxurious appliances. UptOHttj $1,000, the m irking for ornaments and taste bing about $1,500 Of this mar gin over $500 is required for upholateriuz These items show why cars last. The money paid in wages shows the employment of g xxi workmen, and the price of the wood used indicates its good quality aud careful seasoning. Whatever happens, never forsake a friend. When em-niies gather, when sickness falls upon the brart, wbeu the world Is dark and cheerless, is the time to try friendship. Thy who turn from the scenes of distress betray their hypocrisy, and prove that interest only moves them If you htve a friend who loves you, who has studied your 'interest and happiness, be ur to sustain him in adversity. Let him feel that his love was not thnwn away. Ileal hielity msy be rare, but ft exists io the heart They only deny its worth and power who never loved a frsena or labored to make a friend happy.

BY XXI LY IIAWTOORXK.

s sadness but love' completeness? Joy ever alloyed with fears? Doth time prove only the fleet ness Of the passage of winged years? Is life to be clouded with sorrow, Till earth seems a night shrouded plain ? . Doth h'-.pe falsely whisper to-morrow May bring thee a surcea.se from pain? Are pleasure, and mirth, and gladness, All Joys that the world can bring, Must envy, and malice, and sidnesa Wound the heart as wl' h poisonous sting? There's a depth of yearning and longlog Expressed In the half uttered sigh, And turbulent thoughts that come thronging, As though they would speak from the eye. Though ye grieve with the soul sadly aching, R-jolce in its happy release; For ye know that a heart that is breaking Must soon find the solace of peace. No happiness e'er In the throbbing . ui tne unquiet bosom mere a wens, But a wall comes forth In its sobbing That rises aud surges and swells. But cometh a peace most enduring. When the tumult termed life shall have ceased, And the spirit slips forth from its mooring, The soul is from durance released. JESSICA LELAND'S DECISION. "Must it be, then, that our happy, happy summer is to end thus?" Jessica Le'and looked Op into the glowing handsome face bending eagerly above her; but her lover saw no satisfactory answer in the sad but resolute face. He turned away with an impatient gesture, but the gentle touch other hand on bis arm restrained bim. It would not be right, Geordie, to tie you down in your young manhood to a burden which it is best that I should bear alone. My affection for my mother will make my confinement less irksome; but you have not grown to love her all as I have done, and you would be almost totally deprived of my society. The doct jr says it may be a case requiring constant nursing for years, while another attack may take her from me a winy moment" "Then who could be so fitting a comforter in this great affliction as one who loves you witn bis whole heart? iou need not iear that I should grow wtary. One look at your face would pay me for hours of waiting! Try me the Gordons are a loyal race. It is a matter of pride to us all that from the founding of the family we have-not the record of one member who was rtcreant to a trust or false to a lady love." Jessica looked at him acain, thinking what a noble face it was. The eyes o dark in their blue as to be taken for black the broad forehead the straight evenly penciled brows the clear cut lips, just snadowed by a silken moustache for ueordie was barely twenty, although six feet tall and massive in proportion to his height But though her heart pleaded strongly for him she persisted in her refusal. "I shall never marry, Geordie. iou must never forget, me. You are too' young to grieve long." "Say that if I wait ten twenty years no matter how long, and come to you you will reward me for my patient fidelity." ".No; that would be binding you to me, perhaps for your whole life. It would be too selfish. Good by." She turned to go. "Jessica, love, do not part from me so coldly. Let me take with me the raouiory of one kiss, that I may feel in my heart that you are not indifferent to me, though so cruel." Jessica hesitated; then she put up her pure lips, murmuring, "0, no! not cruel! iou will see it in its true light sometime," as Geordie caught her to his breast in a lingering, passionate embrace. The girl could feel that every fibre in his strong frame quivered with emotion, and it was with great difficulty that she could restrain herself from cr)iag out: "Stay, GeOrdie, I love you! I love you!" But in her intense abnegation of self she still kept silent, and .in another moment she was alone, ber lips thrilling to the ever to be remembered pressure of her lover's first and, alas. hi3 fare we: 1 kiss. When the cause for self-control existed no longer the girl give way. With a long, low Cry she threw herself prone upon the fl xr and moaned, "0, my darling! my dirling! if you only knew bow every throb of rny heart made answer tt your appeal; but I could not let you bs sacrihe-jd." Time wore on unheeded. Then the re J eater on the mantel struck the hour and essica remembered that she had duties to attend to. She hastened to her room and washed the traces of tears from her face. Then she went to her mother, whose incur ble illness, caused by a stroke of paralysis, had caused her to refuse ber young lover whose devotion to her through the summer had made ber life like a beautiful idyl. Her darling widowed parent should never be neglected for a comparative stranger, though ntr heart should break in the parting. But she was made of more enduring ma terial than that. In the calm fce which bent over her invilid and smoothed the hair from her forehe.td with such a tender touch. there was a look of pence. Sue bad fought a oatt'e with berscil aud won. "Gj, Lydia. fjr a wl, ' she said to the nurse, "I will take your n'acd." Then she stooprd and kisl her motner's forehea.t and murmured time tender words whi.h were answered by the wistful eyes although the lips wer speechltsa. Thus her life wore on for several years, during which to ere whs little change in the patient. Never a.i impatient look or word was there to show that Jessica wearied of the charge. After a time eoeech was rt-tcaitu-d. although imperfectly, fetill It was a great comfort, for she could understand her mean ing; and once again mother and child held sweet communion to either. About a yetr aftir Geordia departure an English paper came containing the marrixge notice of G. Duncan Gordon, with an ac count of the festivities attending the wed ding. J sjica's lip parted in a pad amile as she read, "I was right after all, notwithstanding he Is a Gordon. I knew it could be in man's nature to wait for weary years Dear G?or die. may he bJ hapi.y!" T'ms rai her thoughts in ' her mind. She did not blame him, and could not put the sweet memory of his love away from her. Though when she suffered hr mind to dwell upon him it was to her as though of some dear one rest, among the dsiaiee. It was nearly five years after ber mother's first seizure that aaother occurred; and after

a few days of nncoosclonsness the gentle sufferer was released, and Jessie was alone. Every day during the summer her slight figure might have been found at the sunset's glorifying hour, kneeling by ber mother's grave, over which her favorite flowers had been planted. It was late in October. One evening, as she returned to her home from her loving pilgrimage, she saw a form coming to meet her, which seemed to have been conjured from the fast She could not mistake the free, swing step with which he greeted her. , For a moment her heart throbbed wildly, tbn sank in her bosom like lead. Why had he come to disturb her placid life? He put out his hand. "I heard of your less, Jessie, and though far away at the time. I am here. Have you no word of welcome for me? You have no idea how ray heart ached for you iu your sorrowful loneliness" Jessie gave him a cold little hand, and said mechanically: "You are very kind; but how could you leave your wife and come to see me?" Geordle's eyes opened wide. "Wife! are you dreaming, or am I? I have had no lady-love but nature, since the girl I loved refused me. I have been such a wanderer that my own land does not own met" The poor little heart which had felt so benumbed and sorrowful was nigh bursting with the sudden flood of happiness which Kured in upon it at Geordie's words. Her ;e was a study in the transformation which changed it from a fit model for a mourning Niobe to a brightness like the morning. Geordie understood it and drawing the slender arm within his arm they walked on together. His tone was very tender as he

said: "Do you remeraberwhat I said about wait ing for you? Ah! the little unbeliever!" but the clinging firmness with wnicu he imprisoned her arm took the edge from his words. "How did you get the impression that I married? Didn't I tell you that a Gordon never forgot?" "I received a paper containing.as I thought, your weddirg no:ice." Vto you mistook me for ray cousin: and 1 sent the paper! What a blunder! I might have thought that you knew but little of my relatives; but it never entered my head that Grahame ard Geordie bad the same initials. Weil, its all rght now. Were it not for those sable rnbss I should imagine the last five years to be a dream. You haven't jgrown a uay older." As the bright tender eyes studied her face with the expression remembered so well. and which she had thought never to meet again. Jessie s began to quiver. They had by this time reached the porch of her house; and Gfordie drew her within its sacred shelter and kissed away her tears. "My own Jessica," he said softly. "May it be my privilege from this time forth to soothe your sorrows and share your joys. I give you warning, though, I shall be like a miser of the societv of which 1 have been deDri ved so long. You must make up your mind to adopt another shadow." Yielding to ber lovers urgent solicitations. Jessica consented to be married to him as soon as he could complete a few simple preparations. The good old pastor who baptized her pronounced the wedding benediction. Need I say that the faithful daughter so fulfilled the duty of her new relation that, after years of wedded life, her husband and children rise up and call her blessed. Difficult Love Halting;. IRockland Courier. The boy who sells fruit and confectionery on the train is usually a very vigorous sort of boy, with an eye strictly to business, and with no romantic thoughts running through bis active brain. One of them came very nearrulning the happiness of two young souls for life the other day. f A young man sat in the seat with a pretty girl, and though the passengers couldn t distinguish their converjation from the noise made by the ears, it was -pretty evident that what was "being said was of great interest to the young couple. . 1 He was saving: "Jennie, darling, I have long been wishing an opportunity to tell you of my great regard for" "Peanuts?" inquired the fruit and confec tionery boy, thrusting his basket in front of the pair. "No!" exclaimed the young man in an annoyed tone, and waving his hand to one aide. "As I was saying. Jennie." he continued. when the boy had passed, on. "I have long wanted to tell you of my regard for you. You are everything to me, and always in nfy absence my thoughts are constantly dwelling upon" "Nice 'candy prize in every box," inter rupted the boy, totally ignorant of the inter eating conversation he was injuring. The young man shook bis head, while the girl looked mad enough to bite a hairpin in two. When the boy bad left the young man re sumed: "I do not think yoa are entirely insensible to my regard, and I feel certain that you in some degree reciprocate. Tell me, darling. if I have a right to think that you are fond of" "Nice fresh firs, 10 cents a" The boy saw by the countenances of the pair that he could make no sale, aud moved ahead with the basket. The young man finished with hiseysthe sentence he had commenced. and waited for an answer. It came, murmured in his ear, that no other person might learn Its Import: "Oh, Charlie, you've no idea how happy you make me by your avowal.' ou know that 1 cae for you only, and that my regard for you is as lasting as "AUp'e candy very nice" said the boy, didpUying a tempting array of .the delicacy. ' Clear out!" ejaculated the young man. between his teth, in a. savage tone, and as the boy cleared out, he turned to his sweet heart or the confnuation of her answer. "As lasting as eternity. I have always cared more for you than anybody else. All our folks think you are just splendid, and mother says you are as good as "Pod corn fresh this morning." The young man rose hastily and lifted the boy several seats down the aisle, and the girl fell t) crying in her handkerchief. The young man resumed his seat and sat in a moody silence until the train stopped at bis station, when, in company with the young lady, be alighted while the boy, after nursing the spot where he was kicked for a fsw minutes, went on with bis business, in uttr Ignorance of the fact that he had per haps brokf n up a most interesting and hppy courtship. L't a youni man be as much of a util itarian as poatible, he can rery seldom see th use of the old folks In the arlonSunday nights.

SLEIGHING SONt).

BY LEE O. HARRIS. , We are gliding where the meadows In their crystal beauty glow; Through the forest where the shadows Lie asleep upon the snow; Where the n aked oaks, ashl ver, Of the stinging cold complain To the half-imprisoned river Tearing at its Icy chain. Where the frozen brooklet lingers Till the winter's reign is o'er, And the willows wring their fingers As they crouch along the shore ; Through the silvery light that glances Where the mall clod hills arise, Till they shake their ashen lances In defiance at the skies. Oh, was ever Joy completer Than the sleighing time compels? Was there ever music sweeter Than this singing of the bells? Was there ever lighter motion Than this gliding of the ilelgh, Li'ke a shallop on the ocean With its wake of flying pray ? Not a cloud is 1A yon far height As it arches blue and fair, And the frost like frozen starlight, Trembles downward through the air. While the moon above ns hanging, Earthward turns her silver bow. Don't you hear her arrows twanging As they fall upon the sn o w ? Love may pine in melancholy Where the tropic breezes blow. But he laagbs to scorn such folly As he flies above the snow, - Where the blood with very madness . Through the bounding pul3es swells, And the heart in rhythmic gladness Times the music of the bells. Lewisville, lnd., Feb. 4, 1878. RETURNED TO LIFE. A Dead Man Tells Ills Experience. For the last lour months Mr. J. Harry Schrack, a young married man of Philadel phia, has been seriously ill with spasmsof the heart, and last Sunday he apparently died. Crape was hung on his door bell, and the neighboring gossips speculated whether his widow would marry again. Four hours later the crape was torn down and it was announced that Mr. Schrack had returned to life. While the apparently dead man was being prepared for the undertaker some one heard a faint - groan, and restoratives being applied, Mr. Schrack was soon sitting up. Of course he was interviewed, and this is the story he tells: "Last September I bsd a terrible attack of hemorrhage of - the lungs, and since then I have not been able to do anything, except for one period of three weeks. My health at times was fair, but three weeks aeo I felt that I was going fast My flesh left my bodv. Mr entire ad Dears uca chanced My apoettte was gone. Everything I swallowed was at once thrown oft my stomach. Last Thursday a week I found that I would have to give up. I telt as though the power oi action in my limbs was leaving me. I was fearful of going to bed, and so I sat in a chair for three days and three nights. I then made up my mind that I would have to die, and I asked to be put to bed. Wednesday night I was taken with something like a chill and spasms at the heart After coming through that I seemed to revive until last Saturday. Every hour during that day I experienced a change. While the right hand would be purple the left would be white. When the left band became dark the right became white again. The entire leftide of my body was numb and almost useless. About 9 o'clock on Saturday night my eyesight began to fail me. I lost my hearing, and my speech became thick, my tongue being greatly swollen. . I had fully made up my mind that I had to die. At about 4 o'clock on Sunday morning the tips of my fingers became like led. My sight was now entirely gone. My stomach was terribly swollen and was greatly inflamed. Each succeeding cramp was more severe and reached higher up into my stomach. All the passages of my throat sremed to be closed. Shortly before 7 o'clock I asked to be removed to the foot ot the bed. My head had scarcely touched the pillow when I exclaimed, "Throw roe over!" and then I found myself in another land. The vision I looked upon was the most beautiful that man ever saw. It would be impossible for me to give a description that would do it justice. My first feeling was that of falling down a great height, and then I found myself in a valley. I walked along until I came to a terrible, dark, black river, at sight of which I shuddered and feared. Before me and beyond the river was a black cloud. Others were walking over the river, and although I dreaded it something urged me on, and I fell that I had to go with the others. As I got nearer to the dark cloud it became bright and. beautiful, and expandtug, it opened and disclosed the most beautiful sight The first I saw was Jesus. I saw a great temple and a great throne. I taw my little boy, who was drowned two years ago, and my other dead child. I saw my dead wife; but I could not touch them. I saw people whom I had almost forgotten. I saw my old gray haired grandfather, who died when I was but two years old. There were many whom l looked ror, but I did not see them. Then the vision began recedin;;, and 1 never can describe the terrible disappointment I felt when I found myself again in bed. I felt, indeed, grieved. It was 11 o'clock when I regained consciousness, and at once I felt as thoueh my life had been renewed. . I was a new man. I bad not then, nor have I now. an ache or a pain. My eyesight, my hearing and my speech had fully returned, and 1 feel now as well as I ever did in my life." Tbe Han Without a Fnlnre. Who does not know him, tbe man without a future, whose life is spent on a playground. and who finds sport in all that comes across his path? His thoughts rarely peer over the boundary of today; it is of the same stuff on the other side; and ror the rest be has the philosopher's instinct that nothing is more certain and less worth looking after than the unforeseen a Nihilist as sure of his Nirvana as the devoutest follower of tbe divine Sakya Muni. The man who will not look forward what more is he than a life annuitant if you like, a soul annuitant? For his hopes to come are no bigger than a butterfly's. But let him tell you he is no nonentity yet a while, and so, believe, him, he is not the least , important figure of the nineteenth century. Why, he is a represent ative man, the exponent of this blase age. Without a future! He is a present wonder all the more, ac evergreen that acknowledges

no autumn, that glistens like the holly while tbe oak drops its leaves with the far off prospect of another spring. When he sees the

rusning nern oi men running a race with time, eager to march in the van of the cen turies, he stops, looks on, ana laughs. He take a step out of the present? No, indeed; ia lucre uut prugrera enougn witnin tne amble of the hour? And is it not to him w owe that heer garden, tbe bar, with its gas flowering lacquered branches, with its cool fountains of seltzer and its hot springs of sherry, and the billiard room and cae in one, and that latest development of all, the Criterion, and that visit of Paris to staring London, the Cae Monico? Then the skating rink, where, unknowingly, he symbolizes his own circle, which, to the best of bis belief, has a beginning and an end, while he goes round and round. These places which have sprung up to meet his wants are the chief fields of his flanerie; he frequents tuem, enjoys mem ail, with an easy, continuous, diluted ecstasy. There are those who shun him. and with a shrug dispose of his destiny, without his ceasing for a moment to be the same happy oeing. or aoes the consciousness ever quit him that he is the idol of the women? His sayings and doings, thoueh so little serious, are sacred to them, ana will be as long as he remains a single man, for they are a most sympathetic sex. What they don't quite like in him they slur over with a plenary indulgence. .The more credulous of men, who believe in to-morrow and, consequently, in a wet day, are prone to neglect tbe easy pastimes of these delectable ones, and to leave time heavy on their hands. Then it is that the man without a future steps in and wins, radiapt, with his face full of ioy. The contrast is delightful, for all the hopes of the busy are down the vista of time; his are on his smile; and his compliments seem so real that they might be paraphrased into a promise of marriage. But the marriage state no it has responsibilities it has a future. It Happened in Texas. (Ban Antonio Herald. It happened right here in San-Antonio. One of the parties was a consumptive from Connecticut and the other a commercial traveler from New Jersey. They were stop-r ping at the same hotel in adjoining rooms. The drummer was out of money, but had a splendid pistol. He said to himself: I wonder if that hungry looking Texan next door don't want to buy a pistol?" So putting the weapon into his breast pocket he walked into his neighbor's room. Tbe invalid from Connecticut had been reading about a noted Texas desperado, for whom there had been a large reward offered, and he fancied the description fitted his unknown neighbor. Consequently when the New Jersey drum mer entered the rooms, ehut tbe door and put his band in his breast pocket the north ern invalid began to shiver and think of his past life. "What do you want?" asked the in valid, f The drummer drew a large ivory handled revolver (answering the description of the one the celebrated desperadoes used on strangers) and said: -"I want $25 tor this pistol." l he trembling nana of the invalid could hardly find its way into his pocket. "It s a good pistol it never misses hre. said the drummer, bringing it to a half, cock. "J J Jake yer yer money!" gasped the invalid. The drummer took the money, laid thepistol on the table, and went out As soon as the door was shut the invalid from Connecticut breathed a huge sigh of relief, and said to himself: , "I'm glad the Texas desperado took my money. What a cpuntry this is, when you are robbed in broad daylight in a hotel. I'll leave tomorrow for the north." As soon as the drummer got into his room he remarked: "I'm in luck. I'm glad that old Texas ruffian took my pistol. I wonder who he is going to try it on. I'm going to get out of here in the morning, now that I've got money to pay my hotel bill." And next morning both went off4 on the same train. In about two weeks we will scan the northern papers for a story about how a noted Texas desperado robbed an Invalid in a San Antonio hotel. , AaU the Old Woman. Exchange. A gentleman traveling out west relates the following: Riding horseback just at night through the woods in Signor county, Michigan, I came into the clearing, in tbe middle of which stood a log house with its owner sitting in the door smoking his pi pe. Stopping: my horse before him, the following conver sation ensaed : . t "Good evening, sir," said L "Good evening." "Can I get a glass of milk to drink?" "Well,! don't know. Ask the old woman." By this time his wife was standing by his side. "Oh, yes," said she, "of course you can."" While drinking it I asked: "Do you think we are going to have a storm?" "Well, I really don't know. Ask the old woman she can tell." "I guess wa shall get one right away," she said. Again I asked: "How much land have you got cleared here?" "Well, I really don't know. Ask the old woman she knows." "Aboat eighteen acres," she replied. Just then a troop of children came running and shouting around the corner of the . shanty. "All these your children?" said I. "Don't know. Ask the old woman she knows." I did not wait to hesr her reply, but drew up the reins and left immediately. For tbe Contract Dollar. Chicago Tribune. The gold bugs who ask for the coinage for one year of silver dollars of 434 grains are playing a confidence game. They know that such a dollar could not circulate if the price of stiver bullion advanced on cnt an ounce in London, and all that might be coined of that weight would have to be exported or put into .the melting pot and coined over again with less weight This whole clamor for, a heavier dollar than tbe regular one is dishonest and trickyNo sincere frierAI of silver remonetizatient will be caught in any such trap, or support any proposition of the kind. The old dollar is just the right weight Let gold come down to its level of value, as it must do when silver is received as a full h-gal tender, and then there will be no necessity for changing; the weight of either coin;

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