Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 28, Number 7, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 February 1880 — Page 10

TITE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL-. WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 18S0-SUPPLEMENT.

IN EVE BY ft A, JC B. Pail. A turaed-dowa leaf, ahl most there be A trprd-doa leaf for 70a od me leaf tormd flown on tbe pe of Uf", Traced oVr vtia teare and inward strife, folded ibd (teased and laid aside VYIthla the depths of this volume vtdeT A taraed-dowa leaf? T, leave, and aoii fall many a page U that traced e'er Id wry life, eon Id we only look With atealthy fltnc through thla carious book; We hidden are they that anay Tae t arrewed hoes of Risry. A leaf turned down where stains and blot Ar trews! with dead forget-me-nots Turned dowa nod sealed where a grava was made, And Hope's crushed (lowers la eorrew laid; folded and creased then paw It bj With quivering lip and tearful eye. A leaf turned down o'er vanished yean. O'er youthful dreams a d parting tears. Where severed hearta in anguish deep Year 34 for the last eternal sloop, folded and creased'tis a sacred pure, Though worn aod dimmed with stains of eg. A leaf turned down where throbs of pain And thronging memories crowd the brain Here fancy paints a faoe within, and, waisperiug, echees "might have been"' Folded and creased, and laid above, 'Ibe pleadli.g ay of tender lo. Theee tornd-down lea tree. He who shall scea Their every page views erring man With pitying eye and marks the place Wherein was foil tba need of grace; He'll cleans the wery earth-worn eoal Of sin, and, Ood-like, rend tbe scroll. THE GOLDEN TALISMAN. I can not recommend you, believing you to be & thief, but I will be so merciful that I will let you depart. Go at once." The voice and face were stern and unyielding. Geoffrey Baird knew that all the piteous appeal he had made, the assertions of innocence he had frantically declared, had fallen apon ears not indeed deaf, but closed to him. "You have been very kind to me, Mr. Hovt," he said, his voiee quivering with pain, "and I hope some day you will know that I had rather cut off my right hand than let it rob you." There was no reply, and the boy, for he was not 19, walked slowly from the room, where he had been accused of crime, condemned and punl-hed in a brief half hour. He was a widow's only son, and very joor, butAbraham lloyt had been very kind to him, employing him in light labor about bis extensive grounds, trying him well, and allowing him to read whatever he wished in his library. And from the library a valuable watch and chain had btm stolen from a table drawer, when there was no one as far a oould be ascertained, in the room but Geotfrey Baird. Crushed, humilated almost heart-broken, the lad walked from the house across the wide garden, bright with summer bloom that seemed to mock his misery. He had his hand upon the latch of the great iron gate leading into the road, when he heard his name called, in a clear, childish voice. "Jeff, Jeffl 0, wait a moment!" And then, turning his heavy eyes, he saw a fairy of 10 summers, a golden-haired darling, dressed all in white, coming down the broad walk with flying feet. Of all the treasures his employer psessed, Geoffrey knew this, his only child was the dearest. Motherless from her birth, she had been her father's idol her whole petted life. "Jeff" she panted, coming to his side, "you must go away, papa says, but I know you never, never took the watch! Didyou?r "No, Miss Daisy, I never took it." "I know it! I'm going to find out who did take it. And Jeff, you must take this." yhe opened her tiny white hand to show lying upon the palm a broad twenty-dollar gold piece. But the boy shrank back. "No, no, Mis Daisy," he said,'I can not." "But you must. It is my own, my very own. Aunt Louise gave it to me on my birthday. In the corner I scratched M. II.' for Margart Hovt, with a pin, but I guess it won't hurt it. I'lease, please, dear Jeff, do take it." She pressed it into his reluctant hand and then throwing her arms around his neck. ' kissed him with her child lips, saying: "1 will dnd out who did take the watch, Jeff, and then you will come back.'' Before he could answer she was spading back to the house, her curls flying out on the summer air that wafted to Geoffrey a last "Good-bve, dear Jeff." With a heavy heart he went homeward, to tell . hia sorrow aid disgrace, lie feared it would almost kill his mother, but after hearing him patiently she said: "I had a letter from Albany this morning, Cieoffrey, from my father's lawyers. Twentyflve years ago m v father cast me off for marrying a poor man. lie died without forgiving me but to you he has left his fortune nearly half a million in money upon condition you take his name when you are of age. I have packed up your poeeisions, and we will go to Albany to-night. ' Margaret!'' The voice was sharp and imperative, and Margaret lloyt looked up from the task of teaching little Alice Bristow her letters, to answer, but before she spoke the beautiful girl who entered the school-room said. "Margaret, I want you to come and show Elsie how to trim my dress for to-night. "Everybody said you had such eiqui?ite taste before your father failed and died." The pale, patient face flushed a little at the cruel words, but Laura Bristow did not heed the pain she had given. "Come now," she said impatiently; "I want to look particula-iy well, for Willard Wharton is coming. It is the first party rince he came from Europe, lie baa been vegetating in Florence ever so long, with a consumptive mother; but she died a year ago, and after traveling a w hile he has come home. Did you know liim?" MI never heard the name." 'Come to think of it, be left long before yon came,' Allie's primer was put aide, and Margaret aecompanted Laura to the room where her finery was being prepared for a brilliant party a few hours later. 'Miss Hoyt," Mrs. Bristow said, looking up from the cloud of tulle under her flngera, "I wish you to come down to play, and I wish you to wear white lace ruffles and a white flower or two in your hair. That will not interfere with your mourning, but you will look a little lees like a mute at a funeral." To hear was to obey. Mrs. Bristow ww a distant connection of Mr. Iloyt's and when he dtd, leaving bU only child to poverty, the lady Impressed upon poor stricken Daisy that f be was under an enormous weight or obliga-

TURNED-DOWN LEAF Lire.

tion by being permitted to be governess lady

maid, generally useful factotum in ner iamuy For nearly a Tear she bad filled the unenviable position of poor relation, unsalaried, ; and overworked, and much of the blocm of j ber pure blonde beauty had left Daisy', face. But 'he soft violet eres had lost nothlflg of ! their sweetness; the golden hair gathered into a rich knot, was full of war and ringlet, making tiny baby curia around the delicate oval of her pale face, and the sensitive mouth was still eipresive and lovely. She sighed a little as she put the soft white ruffle into her black drea, and a few white flowers in her hair. "It seem like forgetting dear father," übe thought, but yet she knew her appearance had been too gloomy for a fiktive occasion. The guests were gathering, and Daisy had gone into a small sitting-room opposite the wide drawing-rooms to wait until ehe waa summoned to sing and play. She had never been in society In Albany, and knew none of Mrs. Bristow'g friends, so ehe waa graciously excused from taking any more active part In the social gathering than wil!Wft alonir bv playine dance music V 9 Ca i-X- aoj tj-m a c - aw - f " T 1 "! She was turning over the loaves of a new magazine, quite sure of being uninterrupted when tbe door opened, and, looking up she aw a stinge gentleman. "ParuVn me," he said, "I thought this wm the drawing room." Thon as phe lifted her face.be .prang forward. "Daisy I Dainyl" he said, and not realizing the" familiarity of the addra-tf , she aroe to Btretch out both hands, saving: "Jefl! It is Jeffl" "It is Jeff," he answered, "or rather it is Willard Wharton." Then moving a chair near the one she had occupied, he told her of his grandtatner legacy, and the change of name. 'Through good and ill, years of prosperity and the temptation that assails all of us, I have carried a golden talisman, to keep my heart pure and true, that 1 might one day dare to bring it to your feet," he said. And through a mist of happy tears she saw him open a large locket hanging to his watchchain. No minature face, no lock of hair w as there, but carefully set, a twenty-ddllar gold piece, with M. II? scratched w ith a pin in one corner. In the drawing-room Mrs. Bristow wondered what detained her hero for the evening; but when he came in lateshe read nothing of the secret that waa in his happy eyes. She aaw his courteous attention to h'T roverns. but attributed them to the inaw courtesy of the young millionaire, and Daiy samr as if inspired, and threw a shower ot gl-eful fantasies inU her waltz and gal"p nmfcic. But when Miss lloyt wao a.-kl for in Mr Wbarton's calls, when the etvlieh turnout' that was the admired of all Albany stood at the door for Miss Iloytto drive, Mrs. Bristow crew savage. "You are too forward with strangers," she told Daisy. "But Mr. Wharton is an old friend. I knew him when I was a little girl, and and we are to be married in the srnng, said blush in e Dais v. ' And considering Mr. Wharton's wealth and position, and his future wife's probable influence in society, Mrs. Bristow wisely made the beet of it. and Daisy was provided with a trousseau and a wedding party, for "Your great kindness to Allie, said Airs. Bristow eracefully. Not until they had been some dayB mar ried did lllard Wharton say one day carelessly: "By-the by, Daisy, was that watch eer found? Yes. Felix was arrested six months after ward for stealing some of the plate, and in hU trunk was the watch. Papa search faithfully for you, but you had vanished as if the earth had swallowed ycu. "I knew it would turn up somewhere,' said Mr. Wharton, quietly "and perhapsnow it is just as well it was missed. It 1 had not left in disgrace my darling miht not have given me my golden talisman. ' A FuMIc Itenefactor. Burlington Uawkeye Correspondence. Down at Hornellsville'' the tall, thin passenger remarked, ''some of the boys were telling me about a young fellow wha lost his wife. They took her remains to some remote point, her old home, I believe, for interment. On their way back home, the bereaved hu band, accompanied by the physician, stepped off the train at a dining station for a little refreshment. When they went in they saw a man at the lunch counter, his elbows squared, and his jaws working like a an eleclnc rna chine. When they went in he was standing about midway between the ends of the counter. Ihe physician and the mourner couldn't help noticing that everything on the counter below tbe man was gone; cleaned out, devoured; and everything above him was untouched. Steadily the man worked his deva.tatingjway toward the bountiful end of the counter, and the other passengers stood back to see fair plav, and give the counter a rhunce. In time the man worked his wav clear and clean up to the wall; he surround ed the last sawdust sandwich, he wrestled down the last piece of waterproof mince-pie, he choked a little on the last plaster-paris cast of a doughnut, but he got it down Then, with a profound sigh, gazing along the wreck-strewn counter, he walked away with the air of a man who had just sacrificed himself for the good of his fellow-men saying in tones of triumphant satisfaction: There by gaul!. The next fellow that come along here will get something fresh I Daring Long Abnenee. I ee thy face no longer In visions of tbe night; Too far away is tbat last day Tbat lent thee to my sight. Bat though the waves no longer Ueflect their absent queen, lK tides forget? 0 love, long set, I follow the nneeenl I bear thy tones no longer Amid the voices roand; Too long uonmote by that eweet note. My ear forgets the sound. Bot though the shell ne longer Can bear the ocean's roar. It echoes still 0 I by words HU My heart for eveimore. Tea, Uow Pleasant. New Haven Register.! "How pleasant life would be if it had no shadows, said she, as her bright eyes looked Into bis face so sympatneucaiiy. 1 es, it would, and if the gas should be turned entirely off there would be no shadows here," "And it would be pleasant, too, wouldn't it?" as ihe tnved with her haPölv fingers - - . - a o around the argand till an impenetrable gloom settled over the room and the Sunday night's courting was fairly under way.

STREET NOISES IN LONDON.

The Variety of Cries, Howl aad Jingling . -with WbUn th cltUen U AfiHcteO-i . Efforts at Abatement of the Nale&no. The numerous letters which have been addressed to üb on the subject ef street noises, prove how widfpread and intensified this nuisance of unnecessary din has become. Day after day we are inundated with appeal, all couched in the same strain, from nearly everv district ot the metropolis, na irom almost all conditions of men and women. To publish a tithe of the correspondence would be impossible: but from the selections which we have inserted as specimens of more, it will be seen to what a pa38 the helplessness of the police and the poworlessneia of the householder have brought the "quiet streets of the metropolis. One corres pondent write from Marlborough road, in Hoüoway. This localitv is lar from the vicinity of the mighty current of life that rolls from Hyde Park to M,le-En but it is not a uiet. tvery morning oeiore ociock, 10 milk men veil frantically, though they know all their customers. Then come two milk-carts, who drive as if milk were the proper fluid with w hich to extin guish the distant fire to which they eeem hastening. Three strange milkmen follow, who shout on alternate sides of the street, as if the residents of Marlborough road did nothing hut drink milk. At intervals the milkmen return, as if afraid that they had not sufficiently made the "Molokni" of Holloway conscious of their presence. The cat's-meat followfman with savory barrow. During the day br&ss bands bray out their discordant clamors; as evening clones in, from six to ten organs, sometimes two at one time, make night hor rible, and if bv chance there is an interval of quiet, a fresh installment of Irom six to a dozen "bull-tbroated Germans assert their right to bring the music of Hermann's land upon me urea tympana 01 me long-suuering 1 " .1 . . .. jr. I Knclander." A professional man writes us tbat by medical advice he has been forced to leave London, to avoid the organ men who haunted his neighborhood. They plantl themselves in front of his window.and laughed contemptuously at the suggestion that they should go awav. To tell them that ttere u a sick person in me nouse is oniy a mm for them to rai.e their demands, for befr the police can be found and the 'charg'? taken, the sleepless patient may be bellow! to death. Hence the ditrot-ed relatives pre fer to bniHj thi persecutors to move on loan' other neighborhood, there ag:iin to black mail the unhappy peoph. who pay hiijli rents in ordT to bv.- the privilege ot livirg in a "quiet ftreet'' a Win which the; f-r-eigD p"ota Lave gone tar to make ajes-t 01 and a mockery. Sunday brings no relief, fi.r a Kensington correspondent assures that the first day of the week is in that Pighrorhooa the worst of the seven. From 6 to 8 there are a 6core of milkmen shouting through the streets: eanzs of men. and girls, wr.h voices altogether disproportionate to their size and sex, shritk out the fact of their having hrrrin cs. bloaters, haddocks and watercress.-. to disDoseof. From 9 to 1 other iranirs of bos and girls elect to noisily dispose of the Sun day newspapers, while ice rear jruard of milkmen torm a readv - - -. chorus to the juvenile venders of Sunday lit erature. And the afternoon is devoted to 'Oranges " "Nuts," "Winkles," "Water cresses, "Kioaters, "uaaaocks, ana me a . 1 a 1 M ..wtYI v 11 Milkman' again. Some faint approach to sympathy may be felt for these bawlers in the street, on the ground that they are of English birth and are trying to earn their living. But none whatever can bo extended by any reasonable personage to the lounging, lazv Italian scoun drels who have now overspread tte w hole land' 'with their wretched barrel-organs and pianoo, drowning peace and quiet in every street, preventing the brainworker from earnins his bread, and sending the sick, on whom their demoniac din acts like poison, to their lone hou.e abefore their hour has come, TViaao Vinlt inep rumuL km tViA rtfTicrkiirinovi most frequently of the Koman Campagnaof Sardinia, feicily, and ot every Italian town Many of them are criminals or tbe worst de scription, murderers and escaped brigands, who carry to this country th-ir vices and their passions their filth and their diseases, and their presence ought al most to be prevented in the in terest of public morality and decency. The lairs in which thev huddle together are dens of vice, such as can be seen in few Continen tal cities, save, perhaps, in the wo-st parts of aples or Kome. Not content with living themselves like the lower animals only less cleanly and with more danger to society they have for some time past been in the 1 t . p a ; 1 11- 1 1 naou 01 uecojmg avay x.ngiisu gins ana dressing them in the finery of dead Italian women. Henceforward the daily work of these girls is to drag about the barrel-organ for the benefit of the ear-ringed "padrone. who treats them in much the same manner as he does the boys whom he has bought from their parents to beg for him. Finding that there are English people of soft heart, and sorter Drams, wno give money more readily if the beggar is deformed, they have lately started a brisk trade in importing the hslt and the maimed and the deformed, until I the thoroughfare of London are infested by the purchased c hattels grinding out their din, leaping in meaningless "dances, screeching ditties which luckily are not under stood by most of those compelled to hear them, and, in short, making themselves an intolerab nuisance for the profit of the padrone ruffians who are permitted to own them. The patience which could bear much longer with this pest and scandal would cease to be a virtue. No Italian city would suffer from its own coun trymen what we tolerate from them. Only last year the bagpipe players, who for age had been in the habit of crowding into the capital during the Christmas week, were prohibited from droning out the contents of goaUsacks on the refined ears of the Romans. Paris would not tolerate for an hour the stolidly insolent Germans who, after braying out the "Wacht am Rhein" in opposition to three other bands stationed a few hundred yards off, will commence a prolonged demon stration on the front door bell in demanding payment for their discord. During the Franco-German war a rumor gotabroadthat the vagabond musicians had been recalled to ihe armv. For a moment En er land was ab. solutely grateful to Count von Bismarck, and I hope was kindled in the heart of many a I weary londoner. IJut tne vy wm of short I duration, tor the heavy-faced flaxen-haired I persecutors returned, re-inforced with numeroua recruits attracted bv Fritz and liana' tales of British imbecility, tut whose sturdy limb bore tbe impresa of no other "kreig or "Schlacht" save the prpetual one the Englishbouse holder is compelled to wage single-banded wit a them.

Now the "Londoner, is, as the tolerance of this altget-r intolerable pest demonstrates, one of the most patient of mortals'. As a railway passenger, he meekly submit to have his nerres shaken by the banging cf carnage

doors sod the intermittent ssnoK 01 the engine notionlcss in the st&Uon,' for he feeU that tli noisy nuisance la essential to the dignitj of guards and the glory of drivers; but he can scarcely extend the same indulg ence t the iangling bells which pushing coal dealers have attached to their wagons, and he feels a comfort in knowing that the law his at least pronounced them illegal. lie is ven loath, unless driven to it, to put down with a strong arm the inharmonious shouts of the street-hawkers, lest by so doing he migit crush out of existence a useful class of flrm.ll traders, always hanging on the brink of poverty, and whose families are never rery far removed from the work-house door. But self-preservation and irregard for his ovn health and means of livelihood, oornpea the professional man to insist that they slall pursue their callings in a manner niiuu win Alio w mm msw iaj puisue uia. It is t maxim of the law of England that there is no wrong without a remedy. Here is a wrong long enough eontini'jd and grievous enough to thousands surely it can not afford the sole exception to this comforting axiom e almost fear it does, unlcba, indeed, the sufferers do what in ordnary circumstances is never deeirable become tbe avengers of their own gnev anoe. Several correspondents propose the formation of an anti-street-music association, the members of which will bind themselves to carry Mr. Bass' act into effect. Many of them Dfferto subscribe handsomely to it, and one centlema expresses his willingness to act gratuitously as secretary. .Kemembering the ir.dignation which this nuisance has evoked, from the days of Leech and Babbage until aow, when, as is evident from the let ters of our correspondents, it has grown to lzantic proportions, there should be no difficulty in Duttine: it down through the . . . . " . . s3 nf some such association as that proposed in tue districts haunted ty these organ grinders, there are abundance of men of in fluence who would be w illing to spare a little of their time to hunt out of the street the rascalitv m hich now so sadly breaks in upon it. and threatens in time to render life in London and it? ruburt unen aurat'ie 1 nere nave oeen many less laudable societies, and few which can do less harm and more good. It is demagogical pure and simple, to talk of tli witerf.-rhg with the "Kighls of fcubjoct. A man alien or iorigiier nas no mere rigbt to drive an other from tb'f street hi which he pursues his calling titan he hud to ern-t a roap factory in the rear ot ht country houe. It is mouslrous that all peace for hale or tick bhos!d be Kx-t, at the pleasure of a hulking Italian or German who chooses to put his thews and sinew to no better purpose than grinding an organ or beating a drum for his own profit. and the delectation of the aesthetic house maids of Kensington, Kenington or Chcslea. Womn In Russia In th Seventeenth Centnry. Eugene Schuyler a "Life of Peter the Great'' in Scribner giyesthe following Citing sketch: interThe Muscovite ideal of woman, foundi n thetenchingsand traditions of Byzantine theiogy, was purely a monastic one. The virtue ol the cloister, faith, praver, chanty, obedience and industry were tbe highest vir tues of a woman. The life of the cloister was best suited to preserve her purity. Socially, woman was not an independent being; she was an inferior creation, dependent on bar husband, for except as a wife her existence was scarcely recognized. Of this theoretical position of woman, abundant proof is given n ail the early didactic literature ol Kussa, and especially in the LVmoetroi, that curious manual of household economv written in the time of Ivan the Terrible. The wife should be blindly obedient in all things, and for her faults should be be be severely whipped, though not in anger. Her duty is to keep the house, to look after the food and clothing, and to see to the com fort of her husband; bear children but not to educate them. Severity was inculcated.and to play with one s children was esteemed a sin a snare of the devil. The wife was bound to stay chiefly at home, and to be acquainted with nothing but her household work. To all questions on outside matters she was to an swer that she did not know. It was believed that an element of evil lurked in the female sex, and even the most innocent sport be tween little boys and girls, or social inter course between young men and women, was severely reprehended. The Domostroi, and even I'oooshkof, as late as the eighteenth even I tnry, recommended a father to take his cudgel I X 1 l.t -i t , , 1 1 ana DreaK me nna 01 nisson, wnomneiouna jesting with a girl. Traces of this feeling with regard to women are still found in cur rent pioverba. "A woman's hair is long, her understanding is short," runs one pro verb; "Ihe wits of woman are like thewildness of beasts," sayg another; while a third says: "As a norse py the Pit, so must a wo man be governed by threats. Ihe collections of popular stories and anecdotes are full of instances of the innate wickedness and deilishness of the female sex, with ref erences to all the weak or wicked women of sacred and profane history. In the "Great Mirror, compiled in the seventeenth century. we even find the obstinacy of women exetn plified by .the well-known anecdote of the drowning woman still making with her fin gers the sign of "scjssors. Although this was the theoretical posi tion of woman in Russian society, prac tically in. small nousenolds, wnere women were important factors, there were great divergences from the strict rules of the Domostroi. In the higher ranks of life the women were more carefully guarded and restrained, and in the family of the tsar the seclusion in tho terem, or wo men's apartments, was almost complete This was part due to a superstitious belief in witchcraft, the evil eye,and charms that might atlect the life, health or fertility of the royal race. Neither the tsaritsa nor the princeas ever appeared openly in public; they never went out except 10 a closed litter or carnage; in church they stoood behind a veil made, it is true, sometimes of gauze and they usually timed their vsits to the churahes and monasteries for the evening or the early morning, ar d on these occasions no one was admitted except the immediate attendants of the court, von Meyerberg, Austrian am bassador at Moscow in 1603, writes, that ut of a thousand coutiers, there will hardly be found one who can boaet that he has seen the tsaritsa, or any rf the sisters or daughters of the tsar. Ever, tueir physicians are not allow ed to see them, ' When it is necessary to call a doctor for the tearitca, the windows are all darkened, and he is obliged to fell her pulse througn a Piece, of gauze, so as sot to touch ter oar nana. rveu cnance encounters

were severely punished. In 1674, two chamberlains, Dashkof and Buturlin, tn suddenly turning a corner in one of the interior courts of the palace, met the carriage of the Tsaritsa If alalia, who was going to prayer at a convent. Their colleagues succeeded in getting out of the way. Dashkcf and Buturlin were arrested, examined, and deprived of their offices, but as an encounter was proved to be

purely fortuitous and unavoidable, they were V.;. ,t,w ta I in a few davs restored to their rank. And yet, this was during the reign of Alexis, who was far less strict than his predecessors. Three Angela. They say thin life is barren, drear and cold; Erer the same sad eoog wan anng; of old. (.er tbe same long weary tale la told. And to onr lips is held tbe rnp of strife, Aod yet a little lore ran sweeten life. They say onr hands may grasp hot Joys destroyed. loam Has not areame, ana age an aching void. v horn Iead-Sea fruit, long, long ago has cloyed, VThose night with wild tempeotnoas storms is rite And yet a little hope can brighten life. Tbey say we fling ourselves in wild dspair Amidst tba broken treasures scattered there. Where all is wrecked, where aU once promised fair; And stab ourselves with sorrow's two-edzd knife And yet a little paücnce strengthens Ufa. Is It then true, this tat of bitter rrtef. Of mortal anguish finding no rUef? L.o: mldt the loter blDs the laorel s lef; Three angels shara the lot of buroan st"tfe, Tbrf angels glorify tbe pth cf life. Lore. Hope and Patience cheer ns on onr wa. - Lot, Hop and Patience form our spirit's stay, bore, nope anc ratieuce watcb as day by day. And bid the desert bloom with beauty vernal. unm tne eariniy laaee in tne eternal. Temple Bar. In the Bottom Drawer." T . 1 a . . x saw my wiie pun out me Dot lorn drawer of the old laraily bureau this evening, and went softly out, and wandered up and down, until I knew that she had shut it up and gone to her sewing. We have some things laid awav in that drawer which the gold of kings could not buy and yet they are relics which grieve us until both our hearts are sore. 1 haven t dared look at them for a year, but 1 remember every article. 1 here are two worn shoes, a little chip hat. with part of it gone, some stockings, pants, a coat, two or tnree spools, hits of broken crockery, a whip, and several tovs. Wife. poor thing, goes to the drawer every day of her lile and prays over it, and lets her tears fall upon the precious articles, but I dare not go. Sometime? we speak of little Jack, but nt often. It bas been a long time, but somehow v an 1 trv over grieving, ue was sucn a a .a . T tw burst of tunshiue into our lives that his go ing away has been like covering our every day existence, v,ih a pall. Sometimes, whtn we sit alone of an eveauig. I wntimr and she sewing, a child on the street will call out as our boy used to and we will both ii&ri up wun oeaung nearts ana a wild nope, only to nna me aartness moreot a burden than ever. It is still and quiet now. 1 look up at the window where his blue eyes used to sparkle at my coming, but he is not there, I listen for his prattling feet, bis merry fihout and Lis ringing laugh, but there is no tound. There is no one to climb over mv knees no one to w search my pocket? and tease for presents, and I never find the chairs turned over, the broom down, or ropes tied to door knobs. I want someene to tease me for my knife: to ride on my shoulder; to lose my ax; to fallow me to the gate when I go, and be there to meet me when I come; to call "good night from the little bed, now empty. And wife she misses him still more; there are no little ia.1 . . ieei io wasn, no prayers to sav, no voice teasing for lumps of sugar or sobbing wiih the pain of a hurt; and she would give her own life almost, to wake up at midnight arud look across to the crib and see our boy there as he uiod to be. So, we preserve our relics, and when we are dead we hope that strangers will handle them tenderly, even if they shed no tears over them. Wl.y Patty Spoke In Church, St. NlchoUs fir February. If the minister had asked any other ques tion, it never would have happened. If it had been on any other day than that one particular day, it Dever would have hap pened. If anv other boy in the whole wide uni verse excepting Robby had been with Patty, it never would have happened. Above all, if it bad been two strangers standing before the altar instead of sister Sueie and Willie Norris, it never could have happened. But it did happen, and that is all I know about it. "If anyone here present," said the minis ter, looking kindly upon the sweet bride with tbe brave young man beside her, and then glancing calmly over the little churchful of wedding guests, "knows of anv reason CJ O ' , - . whv this man and woman should not le joined together in the holy bonds of matri mony, let him speak now, or " "What s all that?" whispered Robby, in reat scorn, to Patty. "I guess he doesn't ;now. There ain't any bounds of materony about it. That was enough. Robby was her oracle, Up jumped Patty, anxious to set things right, and determined that the wedding should go on, now that sister Susie had on her white dress and orange-flowers and every thing. "I do" she called out in a sweet, resolute voice, and holding up a warning finger. "I do. Please wait, sir! There ain t any mat erony about it at all. Ihey came on pur pose to be married r "O course they did! ' muttered Robby. bvervbodv stared at rattv. It was a dreadful moment, but the wedding went on. all the same. And Patty and Robby were the very firtt to kiss the bride. Death. It is the thought of death that is terrible, not death. Death is gentle, peaceful, pain less; instead of bringing suffering it brings an end ol sunerlng. it is misery cure. Where death is, agn v is not. The processes of death are all friendly. The near aspect of death is gracious. There is a picture somewhere of a tearful face, livid and ghastly, which the beholder gazes on with horror, and would turn awav from but for the hideous fascination that not only rivets his attention, but draws him closer to it. On approaching the picture the hideousness dis appears, and w hen directly confronted it is no longer seen; the face is that of an angel. It is a picture of death, and tbe object of the artist waa to impress the idea tbat terror of death was an apprehension. lheodore Parker, whose observation of death was very large, has said he never had seen a person of any belief, condition or experience, unwilling to die when the time came. Death is an ordinance of nature, is directed by beneficent euds. What must be is made welcome.

A FEEP AT ETERNITY.

Colored Last of 16 Sommert JourxMy Through Heaven and Hall. Philadelphia Record. A religious revival among the colored peo ple c-f Bordentcwn, of Eome weetjs' duration, has been so violent in its tendencies of late as to cause a general agitation in that once peaceful place. The colored population have gone absolutely crazy over a rirl 16 year a of aire, who was so comnlete.lv overcome with religious emotion that she - a m fell into a stupor from which she did not show igns of recovering for more than two davs. Now, having recovered, she sincerely believes she has pas-ted within the pales of both Heaven and helL was introdncad to the rejoicings of one and the curses of the other and then returned to the flesh that she might furnish the solution of humanity's great problem. The transition was effected in the African M. E. church, wherefrom the cries of the sinners have been disturbing rustic sleep this many a night. Levi Johnson, the exhorter, was in his best form about 10 o'clock last Thursday evening, when Abbv McCloe, with a thout of joy, leaped twio toward heaven and then fell into the aisle insensible. She was tmtbered up and carried. like one dead, to the altar, and tubeeouentlv to her home, a block or two away. Tne sup position was tbat she was injured by her fall in the church. Physicians attended, and. finding she had sustained no bodily harm. declared that she had gone away in a trance, and pronounced her beyond their ministration. The humble household was filled with awe. Colored clergymen flocked to witness this spiritual phenomenon. They sang and prayed for hours, asid one ot the Iamuy yesterday, "but it didnl peem to do anv good. De Lord was taking His own time. There was a doctor here who thought she had a fever, but when he felt her pulse and found it all right he supposed she'd went away in a trance, too. About noon on Saturday she showed signs of life for the first time. Saturday night she drank a glass of water, but eat nothin' until Monday, and all she had that day was an egg and a piece of pie. Last night she made motions that she wanted to go to church, and we carried her there in a chair. That seemed to do her some good, for thia morning she talked like herselt lor the first time, and said he had been to both Heaven and torment She came down stairs to-day. but had to crawl down, becau.-e her feet are so sore she can't walk." "What is the cause of her sore fejt?" In quired the Record reporter, to whom this statement waa addrwoseo. "Walkin' through torment." was the re ply. "It was so hot she burned tbe bottoms of her feet," By request, the reporter was shown up to a small bedroom on the second floor, where the late tourist, an attractive mulatto girL was sitting in a comfortuble rocking chair with her scorched (?) and shoeless feet rest ing on a stool. When asked her experience whila in the transitory täte she told this story in all sincerity: "Well, I went through Heaven flret. There I saw mother, my two sisters, and my brother. 1 walked by them, buteouldnl get in the path they were in. Tbey took me in a room where there were many lights; some were just lit, some part burnt, and others almo-t out. Thev took m 1n another room where there was all little angels sitting around. Then I went to another place up steps, like. There sat a large man writing with blood, and there waa another one on his knees pravirg, 'rather spare me a few days longer.' He bad long whiskers and spoke crces and groin. After I left there everybody seemed to be shouting rejoicing. I said: "Oh, mother, how I would like to stay!' but fbe said: No, ycu must go back and tell tbem how things are here, and prepare.' Here the girl showed gigns ol her exhaus tion from long fasting, and after a short rest continued: "Then I started to another place. It seamed like a man who lead me. It was awful hot, and there was a blazing up and a smoking as "f something was boiling. People were screeching for water; such screaming I never heard in my life. Little demons were run. ning around with dippers pouring something that looked like hot lead down their throats ; and there was a big black man locked to tbe floor writing in a book. They had men shoveling hot coals and ashes back on the people as they rolled off. That's where my feet were burned. I did not stay there long, for angels that were around me all the time soon carried me back Ut earth." There must be something supernatural in Bordentown exhortation when it can work such a wonder as this. Old Letter. Never burn kindly written letters; it is so pleasant to read them over when the ink u brown, the paper yellow with age, and the gentle hand that traced the friendly words are folded over the hearts that prompted them under the green sod. Above all, never burn love-letters. To read them in after years is like a resurrection of youth. The elderly spinster finds in the impassioned offer she foolishly rejected, 20 years ago, a fount ain of rejuvenescence. Glancing over it she realizes that she was a belle and a beauty. and beholds her former life in a mirror much more congenial to her taste than the one that confronts her in her dressing-room. The widow, instead, derives a most sweet and solemn consolation from letters of the beloved one who ias journeyed before her to the far-off lan-from which there cornea no message, and w here she hopes, one day, to join him. JN o photographs can ro vividly recall to the memory of the mot tier the tenderness and devotion of the children who have left at the call of Heaven, as the epistolary outpourings of that love. The letter of a true son or daughter to a true mother is something better than an image of the feature; it is a reflex of the writer s souL Keep all loving letters. Burn only the harsh one, and, in burning them, forgive and forget them. A Bachelor' View of It. Man that is married to a woman is of many days and full of trouble. In tbe morning hi draweth his salary, and in the evening behold it is all gone. It is as a tale that is told it vanishetb and no one knoweth whither It goeth. He riseth up clothed in the chilly f;armenta of the night and seeketh the somnoent paregoric wherewith to sooth tbe colicky bowels of his infant posterity. He becometh as the horse or the ox and draweth the harlot of his offspring. He spendeth his shekels in the purchase of fine linen to cover the bosom of his family, yet himself is seen in the gtm of the city with but one suspender. Tea, he is altogether wretched.