Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 28, Number 19, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 May 1880 — Page 10

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BURTON C. INGERSOLL. -. 11 1 i : i ..' I woader bow she will receive aae Itt-nlght! . - " It maybe with Cor D la bet beautiful face; Or it may b with b I ashes and mi lee of delight, - As sbs fires me a welcome with .aeenly grace! I at what do I care for her mi Inst 'TU not aha, . But her excellent brother, I'm going to eee. For Um proud, haughty beenty ii aothftrg to me! I remember the might when I roUa with ber last. Or rather the mora, for the moon o'er the bill la The wMt, slowly setting, long weird ihalowt cast, Aad the dawn that was coming began to fill The eky ia the east with a faint rosy glow. And to pale the lieht of the moon, linking low. And to kit lata blushes tbe ermine mow. The party waa oer, the musie bad died. Of Mich bUs and laughter away on the air; I eat by toe gala In the aleigh, and beside The aleigh she was standi ng, so haughty and fair; O'ar the hill top the moon beams lingered apace, Aad the dawa Hmmerad redder, to let me trace The pride and the beaaty that dwelt hi her face. Wi bad quarrelled that night coming back from the dance Twaa a trills at moat and wa couldn't foresee, I remember the angry, Imperious glance ' Of bar scornful ayes as she flashed them on me; I remember tha hasty words that ab spoke. The pasnlonate words that resentment awoke, Tne words that the ties of our friendship broke. Again, aa of yore, in the moon's tender light, I am treading the path by each well-loved place; I wonder how the will receive me to-nigbt! ' II nay be with scorn In her beautiful fae; Bat seorn aa the pleaaee, and bate as she mar, It ia nothing to me, for the unlucky day When I loved her has vanished forever away, Her brother ia foad of a bottle of wine Aad a fragrant cigar with a Jovial friend; . 'A polite inTitation he's lent me to dine, - And with him in a revel tbe evening I'll epend; for to me, with a friend and a bowl, there is more True bliss to be had with oar wit, fan and lore, Thau with false, heartless woman a thousand times o'er. Here's the top of the bill, where the pathway winds Its sinuous course to the valley below; Down yonder dwells the proed beauty, where shines Through tha clambering Ivy, the lamp's soft glow; And some one is singing! 'tis she; and I know The song; ber lips trilled it to me long ago. When she was my sweetheart and I was her beau. She is singing a little love ditty to-night. That recalls to my mind happy days that have flown; And somehow I feol tender toward her, in spit - Of my bate, rather more than I'm willing to own. She la standing, I know, in the porch, where I've sped The hours with ber oft, while her witchery led Into bondage my heart and my giddy bead. Sing on, while in time to the song my feet trip, 8ing on, oh: vlng on, with that sweet voice of thinel I'd give mote for one drop of the dew on that lip. Than tor all the world's revels and all the world's wine! What! panting to meet her in baste down the bill? Shame! am I a slave to this proud beaaty still? I should hate! but I love; and I always will. - Waukesha Democrat. ADRIENNETS STORY. Harper's Bazaar. I was never happy at Aunt Browne's, hut there seemed no prospect that I should ever leave her. I had come out, so to speak, as far ari an yone.so repressed could come out, hut I might as well have staid in. I only sat in corners, talked with the chaperons, or listened to some garrulous octogenarian. Aunt Browne's interest in me, such as it was, died a natural death after the first season it had always been weakly and the result was a sad deficiency in my wardrobe. She had married oflT two daughters w ithout difficulty, but a niece, it seemed, stuck closer . than a burr. Ilowever, it was not my fault that I remained unmarried. I had done my best to be fascinating. Though I lmtd the idea of marrying for a home or a position, yet I was sure I should not find it hard to love one who was kind to nie, if only on account of the novelty. I was thirty now, and not unused to hearing changes rung upon the old maid, and the beggar who cliouldii't be choosers, by my younger cousins, Susette and Anne. But I had had one opportunity to change for better or worse of which they had never dreamed. The son of Aunt Browne's second husband. Cedric Browne, had asked me to marry him, three years before, as we rowed up the river in June for the rosy laurel blooms to decorate the house and piazzas for Susette's birthday fete. I sometimes wondered what Aunt Browne would have thought of the proceeding, as she had set her heart upon marrying Susette to Cedric Perhaps I refused him because I was taken unawares, because . I was net enough interested to care about frustrating Aunt Browne's plans; perhaps I did not expect to be taken at my word, hut imagined it the proper waV to decline, in order to be importuned. I believe all my favorite heroines had conducted in this wise. Ilowever, we rowed home through the sunset, our boat heaped with the pink flowers, in silence. "You look as if you were laden with sunset clouds,' said Susette, who was watching for us on the shore; but I am certain that Cedric looked like a thunder cloud. The next day was the fete. Everybody brought presents for Susette. Cedric gave her an antique necklace of turquoises; 1 was sure he had meant it for me. We had supper out of doors, under the great pine-trees, and dancing by moonlight. That day I began to regard Cedric Browne attentively. I had known him under the same roof for weeks at a time; I had laughed and talked with him, believing him fore-ordained to minister to Susette's happiness, "aa inaccessible aa a star in Heaven, ao far as I was concerned. lie had helped me with Adelo'i children, who had come to live at Aunt Browne's when their mother died. But that he should regard me with any tender emo tions I had never even dared to wish. In fact I had thought little about him till to day. I had never observed till to-day that his eyes were as tender as stars, that his face was like that radient countenance of Mozart in the music-room, that his smile was simply enchantment. I was rather late to make these discoveries. lie aia not leave us at once; it seemed as if he staid just long enough for me to know all I had lost. Since then he had been with as for a whole month; but little Walter was ill with a spinal affection that kept him on his back, and me by his side; and though Ce dric used to relieve me often by day and by night, I could see from my window, and from occasional glimpses -into the drawing-room, that the balance of his time was spent in Su sette s company. "Aunt Susette's beau is going to make me a kite," Teddy confided to Walter one day. ho s he7' asked Walter from his bed. "Why, Cedric, of course Cedric Browne. Bridget says so herself," as if that put the matter beyond dispute. The next day, when Cedric came up to arouse Walter with the afiairs down stairs, that vouth demanded: "I sav. are vou weally Aurt Susette's beau? Cedric, Adrienne'B ever so nicer. When I'm a man 1 shall marry Adrienne." "Then you'll be luckier than I," said Cedric, winding.. up a top, and spinning it n his palm. . It waa a year since then. I no longer

went out: I was fairlv Basse. Aunt Browne

had abandoned all hope of me.' I was a gvod uurirymaidM a cheap -govetnesvan ioexpexuiiye companion in - the family. ' In the meantime A -could have married any day, it 1 had cnosea to accept Key. Atl Amherst, and transfer my labors to the parson age, to be sure, this would not have proved th'brilliant marriage my aunt had expected pi me, nor tne, romantic one i hau dreamed of myself, and it was not till I came into Kesession of a certain family secret that I gan to revolve the possibility in my mind. It seems that when my aunt married her Becond husband, Mr Browne Susette and Anne were both Lowells they had subsisted upon the patrimony left to Cedric by hia own mother, and that after his father's death Cedric had turned In the same family income from the estate for the family use, and that I, Adrienne. Lennox, owed my daily bread to the man I had refused, and who had forgot ten me. Earning my own livlihood waa out of the question, drudgery was my only voca tion, and that was too badly paid to be en couraging. 1 looked at Kev. Abel Amherst oit.-n at this period with a view to installing him in Cedric's place, if Cedric would only vacate. Oddly "enough, Mr. Amherst renewed his suit at this time, and pressed it with the eagerness of a lover, and for the first time I began to hesitate. "The woman who hesitates is lost," said Susette. I had breu out on the hills one dav trying to make up my mind to forget Cedric and marry Mr. Amherst; but whenever I begun to think with some interest of going to parish meetings, becoming the President of Dakota Leaeues and sewiatr circles, visitinir the poor and drinking tea opposite Rev. Mr. Amherst all the rest of my days, somehow or other Cedric's face would slip into the picture uninvited and blot out his rival s, as strong sunlight fades a negative photograph. "There is a letter for you, Adrienne," said Aunt Browne, when I entered the house, ''in the music-room on the top of the dado, under Mozart s picture. 1 went into the music- i room, but there was no letter to be seen. Perhaps one of the girls has removed it," she suggested. But no one had meddled with it. "Grandma cooked a letter over the tea-ket tle," said little Teddy, reflectively. "les, said grandma, "I wrote a letter to your pa, child. I hadn't any blotting paper, but the fire answers the purpose quite as well." At that time I had never heard of opening letters by steam. Well, we ransacked the house for that truant let'.er, but in vain. "Who was it from, aunt?" I asked. "How should I know, child?" 'But the handwriting the postmark?" The postmark was blurred." 'II ad it a foreign stamp?' I asked with sudden earnestness. Cedric had gone abroad some months before, and I had not heard of his return. "A foreign stamp! No. Were you expect ing a foreign letter?'' ".N-o; but it is the unexpected that always happens, you know." "It's awfully provoking,"" said Susette. 'Perhaps it was only the recipes Mrs. Clark was going to sena you. "Nothing more likely; but what has be come of it? It's a prolonged game of hunt the thimble." "And supposing it's a letter notifying you of the existence of a first Mrs. Amherst," put in Anne, "or a legacy left by your forty fifth cousin in Australia " And then the door-bell rang. ell, after that I suppose that I must have accepted Mr. Amhorst. Everybody behaved as if Lhad. I received congTatulatii ns and a ring, and the parish began re pairs upon the parsonage, before I could muster courage to tell Mr. Amherst all about Cedric and my mistake, and how I wasn t sure 1 could ever get over it. and care for anybody else, but that I would do my best. And he smiled in a sort of absent way - when I told him. but seemed content to take me as I was, for better or worse: only it did strike me sometimes that he was the most undemonstrative lover in Christendom; but I hadn't much experience in lovers, and perhaps they wern't as gushing in real life as i f . . - r . , ' , , novels piciureu. lie usea to kiss my nana when we carted: that was all. lie was very gentle, but a little sad, I fancied, with a look which might mean that he was afraid of so much happiness, or that to marry the woman he loved was not all fancy had painted it; and sometimes I thought lhad perhaps done wrong to tell him everything about Cedric so unreservedly; yet I had only meant to be honest. But the day was appointed, and suddenly Cedric appeared among us, when I thought he was at the world's end, and he and the girls decorated the little church with field daisies and grasses for the occasion. You may believe that I avoided the sight of Cedric in the interval before the wedding as much as possible, but somehow I was always stumbling upon , him; he seemed tobe perpetually at my elbow; he surprised me more than once with traces of tears upon my face; the sound of his voice made my heart turn and quiver within me. If I had dared to withdraw at this juncture, I'm afraid 1 should have done so; but it was too late; and though I felt like a hypocrite whenever Mr. Amlrst appeared, his look of sober satisfaction, which reminded me of those lines of Matthew Hoyden on Sir Philip Sidney, t A full assurance given by looks Continual comfort in a face. The lineaments of gospel books, might have taught me that all was well with him. "You are the oddest sweetheart 1 ever saw," gossipped Susette. ''I wouldn't give a straw for such a lover; and as for you, Adrienne, you resemble a ghost more than a bride.' ' In short, a thousand years of purgatory would ill represent my sufferings during those last weks before my wedding. "V ell, to crown the whole,' Aunt Browne said Cedric must give mo away; he was the only male relative, the head of the family, so to speak, and he could do it so admirably. "We shall see," said he. "I'm afrala I should make a poor figure at giving Adrienne away;" ana he stroked his triste, mustache as he spoke, and looked at me just as he looked that day when we gathered the laurel for Susette's fete I could have sworn he did. I didn't answer, for fear my voice would be husky, and the tears would start, i The redding was to be quite private only relatives.' Aunt Browne arranged everything to suit herself and the proprietors; it didn't became a clergyman's bride to make a great parade. At the church, I remember, my veil caught in the carriage door, and an orange blossom tumbled from my wreath, Which Cedric picked up and wore in his button-hole. Then he drew my half-lifefess arm within his, and directly the Wedding March pealed forth in great resounding waves of, melody. My grandmother's India moslin blew out in

abundant creamy folds behind me, and Cedric and T were' standing before the altar, and Mr. Amherst was reading the marriage er vice I I believe that Aunt Browne fainted, or she would have forbidden the banns. ..,. ' "You see it was impossible for me to give you away, Adrienne," said Cedric,' later, when we were steaming out of town. "Am-

.bent is a trump; and may he find a wife as sweet a Mrs. Browne! lr it hadn't been ror. him, I should have been of all men the most miserable to-day. What do 'you think he did? Whv he wrote me all that sad little story you thought right to tell him, and added that he would not deny he was making a sacrifice; that in renouncing you he renounced all that made life lovely to him, except his work; vet he felt it was letter one should fail of a Heaven on earth than "that two should suffer; and that if I loved you, ns I had once said, would I take hia place at the marriage, and allow him to solemnize it? It was a whim of hia to have it so, ,4to avoid explanations,'' he said. I couldn't believe ia my luck, you know, Adrienne. We bandied letters to and fro, canvassing the subject. I feared he had made a mistake, as I had renewed my offer some little while before, but had received no reply; still a dozen things happen to letters every day." Ves, and something happened to yours," I said. Years afterwhen Susette and Anne were married, when Adele's huband had taken the children homo to a new mamma, and Aunt Browne had gone to ''the land of the hereafter," when Cedric was repairing the old house for a summer residence, in ripping away the ancient dado in the music-room, which had always warped away from the wall in warm weather, leaving a little crack, the carpenter unearthed my lost letter. Had it slipped down there, or had Aunt Browne given it a pu.-h? We gave her thebenefitof the doubt. An Incident of the Stage Door. Tinsley's Magazine. Stage-door homage often proves the bond of sympathy existing between actor and audience. What I mean will be best illustrated by the following incident. A friend of mine was once acting at Swansee. One night whilst waiting at the wing, he was accosted by the door-keeper, and told that some one was asking for him at the door. "Who is it?" asked my friend. 1 "I don't know, sir," was the response. "What is the person like?" questioned my friend. "It's a boy," answered the hall-keeper. "A boy," echoed my friend. "Ask him what he wants." "He won't say, sir; and," added the man with a serious tone, 'I didn't like to send him away. lie don't look well, sir." "Very strange. I've a long wait after this scene; let him stay till it's over, and I'll come and see what it's all about;" and my friend, taking up his cue, walked on the stage. When the scene was over, putting his great coat over his dress, he sought the hall, where he found, waiting within the shadow of the door way, a poor, pale and weakly-looking lad in a sailor's garb. 'Do you want me?" asked my friend kindly, as soon as he had reached him. 'Yes, sir, please." "Well, my boy, and what is it?" They lad looked shy and confused, then said softly, 'I'm very sorry, sir, but I want ed so much to see you" here he broke down, and the tears trickled from his eyes. "My poor lad, what is the matter? You don't seem well." "No, sir, I'm not. I'm a stranger here. I've seen you play sailor in our town, sir; and as I'm a sailor, and have been shipwrcckc " 'Shipwrecked 1" cried my friend. "There. don't bo down-hearted, lad; I'll " and my friend's hand instinctively sought his pocket But the lad suddenly stopped the action with a touch of pride in his tone, as he said: No, sir, it wasn't that I wanted to 6ee you for. They've done all that for me over yonder" and he looked in the direction of the Sailors' Home ''But I wanted a kind word; and as I saw your name, I thought you'd give it, and you have;" then clutching my friend's hand in both his little ones, he murmured a broken "God bless you for it!" and was gone before my friend could stop him. Where the Noble Dave Their Country." Brighter than the glorious sunsets Which delight this earthly clime. Than the splendors of the dawnlogs Breaking o'er the bills of time, Is the richness of the radiance Of the land beyond the sun Where tbe noble have their con ntry When the work of life is done. With tbe the deep mysterious problems Of their earthly life made plain. All the bitten turned to sweetness, All the loses golden gain; And the new life's heavenly rapture Far exceeding griefs of this. Earth's hard toiling all forgtten In the restfulnesa of bliss! I And the mnsio of their welcome From angelic lyres of gold Shall full oftsn be repeated , Yet it never shall grow old; Manic higher than earth's noblest. Than all eloquence of words. Than the sweetest of tbe carols Of tbe gladdest of the birds. Springfield Bepubllsan. Woman's Tears. New Tork World. Stop this scientific business where it is, and don't let it go any further. It is robbing life of all that is worth living for. Only a short time ago one of these scientific joskins analyzed a tear that had trickled down npon the cheek of a lady who wanted a new dress, and he found it to contain phosphate of lime, chloride of sodium and water. Ever since reading that analysis we have lost faith in tears, and no matter what a person is bellowing about, we can. only look at the tears aa they flow over beauty's cheek, and think of the phosphate of lime, chloride of sodium and water. The infernal aaalysis has knocked all the poetry out of tears for us, and we feel as though we wanted our money back. If the scientist will refund what he has taken from us he can have his old analysis. "We would like to throw him in a corner and jump on him. He has robbed us. Ohl give us back them other days, when tears were tears and not chloride of sodium and other nauseating drugs. Our ideas of right and wrong are mostly right. We can all agree as to what is best for man. No one will assert that a lie adds a man's character; that dishonesty inspires to confidence; that expensive, injurious habits are to be commcnaed; or that vices that shorten and brutalize human life are fit for men and women to practice. Sins may have made saints, but we do not believe that they have made a great many. You will be a better man to-morrow by being a good man J to-day.

WESTERN CAMBLCRS.

Ksprlencee of av Ratnraexl fTonrlat. n I patronized the amokine cardurw?the . , . ? I , a greater part of my Western -trip, because it is there that one is brought in contact with the people of the country and has the best opportunity of studying Western life. ' While traveling down the" line '-of the AtchisoA, Topeka and Santa' F Railroad, nry attention was one day attracted by an individual in clerical costume, whose physiognomy aeerned decidedly out of harmony , with tne white necktie and long black coat. Presently an army officer entered the car, and, after fighting his cigar, proposed a game of cards.' The peudo minister at once responded and they brgan a game of poker, playing at first for small amounts and appearing quite evenly matched. The officer, however, was slightly ahead and, flushed with success, propoc-i tl higher stakes, to which his adversary acceded. After a few deals both apparently held strong hands. The betting grew fat.t and furious, and soon $1,500 lay upon the table. Tho sanctimonious expression which my eleri! friend had assumed now dropped off like a mask and' "blackleg" appeared written on his face. Unbuttoning his coat, he pulled out a huge mass of bills, threw them down and exclaiming," I raise you $10,000," drove his huge bjwio-knife through the pile. The officer, calmly looked at him, and in an easy, lazy way said to his servant: "Tom, bring mv small trunk." The servant did so, and his master pil-d up bundle after bundle of bank bills. Then he quickly said: "I raise you $150,000," and the gambler found the muzzle of a cocked six-shooter pointed at his head. lie took in the situation, glanced sadly at the dollar lying on the table and, without a word, re and left the car. A day or two later, while ob my way to Las Vegas, 1 fell into conuorsation with a god-r.atured miner. On reaching La Junta Junction I left the train, meaning to spend the night there. I had noticed that my mining friend had a ticket good only for a continuous pa.-age and I spoke to him with some surprise when I, saw him leave the train. He answered, however, that he only meant to stretch his legs for a few moments As he walked up and down beside the train he was acttwl by two men, evidently t-harpers, who welcomed him as an old friend and a!-kl him into a tent near by for a drink. He demurred, for fr of losing the train, but as they solemnly assured him that tho detention would be fifteen minutes, he finally consented and accompanied them. The canvass door had hardly closed behind him when the trained moved off. I entered the stationhouse and a.-ked the depot master if there was a hotel near by. As I spoke, another individual, evidently from his face a companion of tbe two sharpers, stepped forward and, seizing my valise, exclaimed; "I'll show you the best accommodation aiound, sir. We have a large tent near by. A warning wink from the statioo agent induced me to regain possession of my valise, and, declining the man's offer, I repeated my question. The agent informed me that he feared I must spend the night in the depot, as the hotel was not yet built. Howevea, after some persuasion I induced tbe proprietor of the future hotel to take me into the unfinished house. In the middle of the night we were reused by a loud knocking. -My host warily approached the window, pistol in hand, and asked what was wanted. A plaintive voice responded with an inquiry lor the gentleman who left the train. I appeared and recognized the miner in a woful plight. His story was noon told. In the tent he bad found a number of prof;siional gamblers. They ' had given him drugged whiskey, induced him to play poker by means of the usual innocent countryman acting as a decoy and, after they had robbed the por fellow of hia last dollar, he was pitched out at the muzzle of a pistol. My host took the situation as a matter of course. Shrugging his shoulders, he remarked: "The fools are not all dead yet," and went back to bed. The miner rested as best he could on the floor, covered with my blanket. 1 The next morning as I walked into the depot I noticed a quiet, under-sized, keeneyed man sitting near the station agent. I made some casual remark about the miner's ill-fortune, and the stranger at once asked me to go over to the tent and tell him what I saw. With an amused smile at my refusalj and evident suspicion, he threw back his coat and exposed his badge, showing th&t he was the detective of the railroad company. I am here for the purpose of breaking upi this nest of gamblers and making some arrests," he said. "I have a force of men now concealed in the freight-house here, but they are all known to these blacklegs, and I want some one to find out for me the number of men and the condition of things inside that tent. Some of the men I know. .They are all criminals, there are murderers among them who have been chased out of other places and settled down here." Backed by the detective's assurance that if I did not return in fifteen minutes he would come after me with all his force, I felt brave enough to walk over to the tent. Inside I found eighteen men, with -faces as villainous as any to be found in the New York slums. On the ground were strewed saddles, pistols, cards and bottles, while on one side was a rude bar. My entrance excited no comment. I was scrutinized closely, but no one spoke or apparently gave me any particular attention On my asking the baricoeper for some beer, he produced a bottle previously opened and filled my glass.' I poured the beer on the ground and told him to open a fresh bottle, saying that I would pay for the whole. He understood my motive the fear of being drugged, and did as he was asked Upon drinking my beer I left unmolested After telling the detective what I had seen, he asked me to go back and notice the men's faces more particularly. ' I did so and ' from my description he was ab'e to identify two or three as the men whom he was in search of. ''Come in to the freight-house with me," he said. As we entered he ' exclaimed, "Come out, boys," and from behind the boxes and bales emerged a little force of strong,' wellarmed, men. He directed a few to surround the tent and at the head of the rest, each man with a cocked revolver in his hand, marched up to the door and threw it open. The gamblers were taken completely by surErise, and everyone was covered witn a pistol efore he had time to shoot, or, indeed, to seize a weapon. "The game's up," said the leader, and threw up his hands. "What do you want?'' "I want you and three of your men here," was the reply; "and I warn the others that if they are within ten miles of La Junta at sunset they will be shot." The four ruffians sullenly submitted to be handcuffed, and tha others, after being disarmed, struck their tent, collected their worldly 'possessions and started for new fields. 1 I did not forget the unfortunate miner,

whe waaaleepiag off the effects of the whisky. By. the xertion ef th detective hi? money wa recovered.1 Hia' -protestations of gratitude aid Intense delight at beingable to continue his journey made a pleasant ending to this insight into the rough life of the West.

laeosulsteacles aad Absurdities of Suicides ' ' IHeatgemery Advertiser. J ' Committing ' suicide is, no doubt, a very serious affair to the on,e most deeply interested in the job- .,When a man or woman, deliberately decides to dissolve their connection with earthly affairs and strike out into a new phase of existence it is reasonable to suppose they feel very-solemn over the performance. That ii, supposing that people in their right minds ever do such things, which some good people aeriously doubt, but we think without any reason. . There is a deliberation and fixedness of purpose about some cases of ßuicide that would seem to preclude the idea of insanity in any form. ..The case of the young man wbot recently took his own life in New York is a good illustration of a perfecty sane suicide. With methodical patience and no small degree of ingenuity he rigged up a kind of guillotine, and so arranged it that the ax would ' fall In just five minutes from the time the trigger was set. Then he laid his neck aross the bWk, held a 6ponce saturated with ether to his nose, went off into a quiet tsloep and awoke in some other country with no head on his shoulders. Evidently his mind was acting in its normal channel during the time ho was planning thrt job, and we cAn not but admire the degree of talent evinced in the manner of his taking off. Other suicides have endeavored to invent some plan of suiciding while asleep, but this young man is certainly entitled to a patent for his invention; provided, of course, there is a patent office where he has gone. This is only one instance that has come under our observation, though we mention it speciaMy because of its unique character, and the beautiful adaptation of means to the desired end. As a suicide it is eminently a success, and would make a Parisian turn green with envy. But there are some ideas connected with the commission of suicide, or its attempt, that have ever struck us as bordering very close ly on the ridiculous, however disastrous it might be to the princiSaL It often happens that a person becomes isgusted with life and its consequent troubles, and thinks he can mend matters by going out of the world entirely. How does he know whether he can benefit himself by the act or not? now does he know whose hands he is going to fall into and what kind of treatment he will receive when he gets there? The chances are that his circumstanccb will not e at all improved by the change, and that he will find that he has altogether, made a bad bargain. Agaic, a man will contend that it showa courage to take his life when his affairs go awry, but it has always occurred to us that the genuine courage consists in fighting the battle of life out to the bitter end. j Other persons, both male and female generally female kill .themselves for love. Because her selected one don't love her, or if she thinks he don't, she straightway takes a ''header" into some convenient stream, or takes an extra quantity of poison, or takes some other means of making way with herself. Will he love her any better after she is dead? Will the job improve her personal appearance any, and make her more lovable? Will his love, even if Ehe succeeds in obtaining it, be of any value after she has gone, no one knows where? In short, will any good result to her in the premises? i To us the whole business of suicide is defenseloss. Of course, we do not now refer to those, who, for any cause, have become morally and mentally wrecked, and are incapable of reasoning on the subject. They are objects of pity and sympathy, but the man in his right mind who deliberately sets about taking the inestimable boon of life which none but the . Almighty can bestow, is a murderer, and can lay no claim to the gymbath y of the world. He has thrown away his last chance, - and put it out of his power o do good for himself or others. Perhaps, after all, it is as well for the rest of the world that such persons should leave it. Sweetness of Spirit. I Coogregationalist.l i We have known some ladies whose presence was always made apparent by the pervasion of the atmosphere with a subtle perfume. Whether Lubin aid itor not, we never. knew; but the room . always seemed fragrant iust from their being in it, as if rare flowers had been breathing . their, .delicate odors there. We think all our readers will agree with us that there are some Christian men who somehow carry, in a like manner, the charm of an attractive atmosphere with them. It ia a pleasure just to look at them. Even when one differs in judgment with them as far as the poles are asunder, one is none the less drawn toward and fascinated by them. There is such sweetness in their spirit, such gracious gentleness in their manner, such kind cathoScity, such manly frankness, such thorough self-respect . on tne one hand, and, en the other hand, such perfect regard for the judgment of others that one can not help loving them, however conscience may compel conclusions, on matters of mutal consequence, Unlike those which they have reached. ' I These are not weak men, either. What people like in them is not that, with the everfasting unvaryingness of a mirror, they reflect back the " thought which is presented to them, and so are always at agreement with othsrs. Sometimes one is even more drawn to them when they are in opposition because they are so true and just that their aspect carries with it all the refreshment of variety with none of the friction of hostility. ! Natural temper has something to do with this. God gives a great gift to a man when He gives him a sunny disposition, a candid spirit, and the instinct of fairness in controversy. It is exceptionally hard for some men to be just. They are jealous, suspicious and morose in their natural trend. It is hard for them to believe good of others. It is easy for them always to put the worst con struction upon matters. It sometimes seems as if it were almost more than ; grace itself can do to transform their, tempers so that they will be just toward any man against whom they have been led to nave a prejudice. . ; Irish Lamentation. Cold, dark, and dumb lies my boy on his bed; Cold, dark, and silent tbe nigbt dews are sbed; Hot, swift, and fierce fall my tears for tbe dead I Bis footprints lay light In the dew of the dawa As tbe straight, slender track of tbe yonng monntain fawn; - - ' Bn.t I'll ne'er again follow tbem over tha lawn. .'',. . Bis manly cheet blushed with the snn'l rising ray. And be sbone In bis strength like tbe son at mid-day, Bat a eland of black derkneas baa bid him away. And that black clona forever shall eting to the skies; And aerer! ah, oerer, I'll see him arise. Lost warmth of my bosom, lost light of my eyeel

DESOX.ATIOH OF PALESTINE. Traveler Tells TThat Turkish Bale Is -'Dolna; Tor the Holy Latd,' Rev. W. J. Starcey writes to the London Time of the deplorable condition of the Holy Land .which he has recently visited, lie ays t , , t . , ; i j t ( 'Nothing can well exceed the desolateness of much of it. .Treeless it is for twenty or thirty miles together,-forests which did exist thirty years ago (e. g on Mount Carmel and Mount Tabor) fast disappearing, rich plains of the finest garden soil asking to be culti vated, at best but scratched up a few. inches deep in patches, with no hedges, or boundaries, mouataia terraces, natural or artificially formed, ready to be planted with vines, as the German colony are doing at the foot of Mount Carmel; the villages nothing but mud hut dust, dirt, and squalor; the inhabitants with scarce clothing enough for decency, their houses ovens ; large tracks without a horse or cow, sheep or dog; no pretense at roads, except from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and this like a cart road over a plowed field, the rest, at best, like sheep-walks on the Downs of Sussex, but for far the most part h'ke the dry bed of the most rocky river, where, amid blocks of stone, each makes his way at a foot-pace as best he can, or on smooth, sloping rocks or over loose stones thrown down from the old walls on either side, which no one offers a finger to remove; nothing upon wheels, not so much as a barrow, to be met with in a ride of over 300 miles. Everything is taxed; every fruit tree, so none now are planted; every cow or horse, .etc, every vegetable sold out of a private garden. Every eighth egg is not taxed but taken by the Government. Nothing lilce a small farmhouse is to be found far or near. If there were, the owner is liable to have soldiers or revenue officers quartered upon him, to be boarded and lodged at his expense. The towns are filthy in the extreme. . None more so than Jerusalem itself, where, however, taxes are levied from every house for. lighting and cleaning the streets, while a sprained ankle or a splash into a hole of blackest dirt is sure to be the result of a momentary carelessness. Nothing is done for the good or improvement of the poople.or the land, by the Government. Iot only so, but every offer, and I heard of several made by private individuals, or by companies, is at once refused, er refused unless a bribe be first given to the authorities. " " "This is a picture,I believe.in no way overdrawn, of that land which was once 'flowing with milk and honey.' What migh it not become again, with fair usage and good government? But there is no hope for Palestine while it remains in the hands of its prescnt rulers. Palestine is worthless to the Turkish Government. The whole revenue is stated to amount only to 180,000 or 200,000 per annum- Capitalize this at 6 per cent, and it comes to. but four millions of money. If it were 6,000,000joreven 10,000,000. wl at would that be for Europe to raise for the purchase of Palestine? A Bum sure to be repaid a thousand-fold in a few years time. And what would not 10,000,000 in hard cash be to the Turkish Government at this moment?" Your Friend. " The friend who holds a' mirror to yonr face,' And biding none, is not afraid to trace -' Tour faults, your smallest blemishes within:

Who friendly warns, reprores yon if yon ein , Although it seem not so bets your friend. But he who, ever flattering, gires yon praise. uv n vr reuvii, nor censures, our aeiays To come with eagerness and grasp roar hand. And pardon yon, 'ere pardon yon demandHe is your enemy, though he seem yoor friend. i : Merry Saints.'" '-.'" ' ' A most striking example was Robert Hall, who could indulge in merry jests and pungent sayings even when suffering from sharp pain. "Mr. Hall," said some one to him, ! under stand you are going to marry Miss f I marry Miss ! I would as soon marry Beelzebub's eldest daughter and go and live ' with the old folks." To a solemn, brother who rebuked him for his vivacity, he replied: i ou carry your nonsense into tne puipit; x keep mine out." Even when stricken with mental hallucination he did not lose his relish mllori iirw-in him at. tho avium inn octroi a whining tone, "What brought you here, Mr. Hall?'' He significantly touched his head and replied, "What'll never bring you sir! Too much brain, sir, too much brain 1. j ! Old Dr.' Emmons,' of Franklin, Mass., eaid as pungent things at table as in pulpiL His wit was as sharp as his logic. A young Treacher occupied his pulpit one day, and at . inner angled tor a compliment. , "I hope I , did not weary you by the length of my sermon,' Doctor?" "No, nor by fts depth, either." , i Spurgeon is noted for the keenness and causticity of his wit. When a well known t bore sent word to him that ''a servant of the '. Lord" wished to see him, "Tell him," was the reply, "that I am engaged with his Master." In preaching to a company of butchers, he opened with a hymn: " , Not all tbe blood of beasts ' Oft Jewish altars slain, etc. When told that twins were born to him, he cried out: , . Not more than others I deserve . , , i Tet God baa giren me more. ( Some years ago a clergyman near Boston asked another who was noted for his prolixity to preach for him. "I can not," was the re- " ply, ''for I am busy writing a sermon on tha ; Golden Calf." "That's just the thing," was the rejoinder. . "Come . and give u a forequarter of it." - " 'M ,-.! .,! . ! The Soothing: Effect of Politeness. , , , , S Politeness has been" aptly and truly likened to an air-cushion-; .Tneremay.be nothing solid in it, but it eases the jolts wonderfully, "Good manners are the shadows of virtues, . . if not virtues themselves." And ''bad man-', y ners," what are the source.; ! from which they t spring? Vanity, want of sympathy or sense, " are some of them; and "Pjte, envy and "illnature maybe added. They are about the) i most expensive luxuries of life- if luxuria t i they are; for no one can afford to surround :i himself with the host of enemies he is sure tQ. , make bv an indulgence in unmannerly habits. Vroou mannen, iia.e goou wurua, vxjcti uuiuue, tA ra w-rt h nwTrihmff. Kinney Smith .... . . . i i ik . i . .HlllfUK. "... V' M w. --. I vision which sees little things, a want of tb

ueiicaie toucn wmcu jibuuicb iuouj,. vuu. 4 j that fine sympathy which a superior mo:. f

organization always bestows. . A well-man-, nered man is courteous to "all sorts and conditions of men." He is respectful to his in feriors as well aa to hia superiors."1 Canon Kingsley tells us that the love and admira- r tion which Sir Sydney Smith won from'eyeTy ';' one, rich and poor, with which he came in contact,1 seemed to arise from his treatingHll rich and' poor, his own servants, tl0 noble-, , . men who were his guests, alike . courteously,' consideraiely and kindly so leaving ableating and reaping a blessing wherever ha went.