Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 January 1886 — Page 2

TI|E OLD-FASHIOXED DIVORCE. In the old-fothlcnod days and primitive ways, When loving voting couple w< re married; They started out poor from the girl’s home door. Alia acaut was the luggage they carried; A bed and some chairs, sp it-bettomed at that, A bake pan to sit on the coals, A long-haiiuled frying-pan, teakettle, too. And thev thought themselves happy, dear souls! X< A big ohest fnll of blankets, coverlets, too, Ah 1 the girls of those days they could spin; a They made towels, sheets, table-cloths out of flax. And had health such ao industry wins. A pillow-case full of stockings they knit, • A big wlieel, a flax 'wheel and looms. ' If the father was able, a rough cherry table. A chum and some home-made splint brooms. Attached to the cart by a new flax rope, The cow she had raised from a calf; Gome sheep so lowed on. of horses not one; Snch a wife was a man’s better-half. A Bible, a tyyrnn book, an almanac, too; Some women were weather wise then— True helpmeets indeed in man’s hour of need, Though seldom they handled a pen. A short gown and petticoat every day wear. Linsey-woolsey, dyed dark brown or blue, Checked aprons so neat, the outfit complete When we add the low country-made shoe. Onexhing was essential to housewifely art— To snch an art did all maid’s aspire— Near the cupboard was stored a johnny cake board To bake cakes on before the great fire. The years rolled away, and children at play Enlivened the hearthstone of home. And unless it was election or town-meeting day Men had little occasion to roam ; But sometimes, perhaps, in a world of mishaps, Dissensions arose, and disgrace, Then the hearth-fire burned low, a sure token of woe. I'" And home was a desolate place. Then the woman went back on a desolate track. With her part of the goods safely stored, And the comment was then, among gossiping men: •She’s gone back with her johnny-cake board.” Divorces unknown, one refuge alone, ‘ „r* Some rest to her sore heart restored. When things went too bad for a wife grieved and sad, ' i She went homo with the johnny-cake board.

LINCOLN’S LAST NIGHT.

Vivid Description of the -Scenes That Followed the Assassination. Keeping the Death Watch at the Bedside of the Dying Lincoln—Actors in a National Tragedy. “I got the best of Secretary Stanton one day,” said Noble McClintock, proprietor of the Seven Stars Hotel of Frankford, one of the oldest and best known road houses in* Philadelphia, to • repdrter. - “For nineteen weeks I had charge of Ford’s theater in Washington, with my company of the Twenty-fourth Veteran Reserve Corps. I was ordered to the theater an hour after the assassination. My instructions were to admit no person unless he had a pass signed by Secretary Stanton. One day the Secretary brought a number of friends around to see the building. They all had the proper passes except himself. I admitted them, but refused to let him in. He went away, wrote a pass, and came back with it. He then congratulated me for living up to my orders. “I have a bill in my possession that I believe President Lincoln had in his hand the night he was shot,” said Mr. McClintock. “On my arrival at the theater with my company I immediately went in the building. On going into the President’s box I picked the bill up from the floor. It was lying under the chair in which Mr. Lincoln had been seated. I have kept the relic from that" day td the present time.” The bill in question is yellow looking with age, has a piece of ths left-hand opper corner torn off and is otherwise damaged. “I presume there are other bills of that fatal night’s performance still extant,” continued McClintock, “but this is the genuine one from the President’s private box and I would not take hundreds of dollars for it.” Many of the persons whose names appear on the bill are dead. The man who played “Binney” that night is living at the Forest Home, a few miles above the Seven Stars hotel, on the Holmesbutg turnpike. Harry Hawk is still a favorite comedian, traveling around the country with combination companies. Laura Keene has passed away.

AT THE FOKEEBT HOME. A mile this side of Holmesburg, on the Frankfort or Holmesburg turnpike, is the fine old country seat where the great tragedian Forrest whiled away some of his leisure moments and which he left for the maintenance of aged actors. In its summer dress it is ■one of the loveliest spots in the suburbs ■of Philadelphia. The terms of the will allow but twelve members of the theatrical profession there at a time. There are ten guests there now, five of whom are ladies, all happy and contented, and patiently waiting for the ,-shifting of the last scene. The.. view from the rear portico of the hofuse.with the beautiful fields and fallows stretching toward the Delaware, is enchanting. There is no rough boards, pulleys, ropes, and strings, no bedaubed scenery for these people to look at, no reipinders of “behind the scenes;” but *ll around them are choice gifts of bountiful nature. “They live like princes of the realm,” said Mr. Mardon Wilson, the Superintendent, who for the last two years has had charge of the place and has made it blossom *s the rose. There are 120 acres of ground in the estate. The farm, which is said to be one of the most productive farms contiguous to Philadelphia, is rented, and yields a handsome revenue. On each side of the rear porch are the •two statues of comedy and tragedy • which formerly graced the stairway of thf old Chestnut Street Theater, above Sixth street Probably the best-known professional at the home is Mrs. English, the mother of Lucille and Helen Webster. What rapid and eventful life her gifted daughters led on the stage! Jacob Thoman, who once gave promise of becoming the leading tragedian of the age, is there, as is Also G. G. Spear, who saw Booth leap upon the stage, flourish his dagger, and heard him cry, "Sic Semper Tyrannu*’’ as he disappeared behind the - scenery. Herr Kime, a graceful Old man, over 70, the Blondin of America, 'who astonished the older generation by his wonderful tight-rope dancing, is one of the guests. The r others are Sophia La- Forrest, Mrs. Mary. Ei Burrough, Rachel Canton, Miss Jane Parker (Mrs. Champney), J. Alfred Smith, and J. Ward

Five actors who lived at the home since its opening, seven years ago, have died. They were buried on the place. Their bodies were recently exhumed and found to be in a remarkable state of preservation. They were placed in a lot, purchased by the trustees, in Uppst Cedar Hill Cemetery, near by. G. G. Spear is the only one of the company mentioned in the programme printed above who ia, now in Philadelphia. Harry Hawk lives here, but is playing with Bidwell’s Stock Company in New Orleans. Mr. Spear was seen yesterday at the Forrest Home. He was found a white-haired, thin-faced, bed-ridden old man, over eighty years of age. His health is broken completely, and his memory has left him, and he can now recall but little of the fatal night of April 14,1865. For over two years he has been confined to his bed, and his death is believed to be close at hand. AFTER THE ASSASSINATION. The most vivid description of the incidents of that night after the assassination is given by Hon. Mannsell B. Field, for many years Judge of the Second District Court of New York. He was in April, 1865, Assistant Secretary of the Treasury. —* “It was an April afternoon in the year 1865. I was driving alone on the Fourteenth Street Road in the direction of the soldiers' home. Presently I heard a clatter behind me, and, looking out the carriage window, I saw Mr. Lincoln approaching on horseback, followed by the usual cavalry escort He soon came up to me, and, while he rode for some time at my side, we conversed together on different subjects. I noticed that he was in one of those moods when ‘meloncholy seemed to be dripping from him,’ and bis eye had that expression of profound weariness and sadness which I nevei’ saw in other human eye. After a while he put spurs to liis horse and hurried on, and he and his followers were soon lost to view.

“The next evening I was sitting alone in the reading room of Willard’s Hotel, where I resided during the absence of my family from Washington. Presently I was joined by Mr. Mellen, special agent of the Treasury Department I never saw the hotel so apparently deserted as it was that evening. The usually crowded corridors were empty. Ten o’clock came and Mr. Mellen left mo to retire td his room. I then picked up the evening newspaper, intending, after I had read it, to follow his example. Scarcely had I commenced reading, when two men rushed headlong into the hotel shouting that the President had been shot at "Ford’s Theater. I sprang from my seat to follow them to the office, but before I could reach it a third person entered, more calm than the two who had preceded him, and confirmed their statement.— THE MEETING WITH MR. LINCOLN. “I immediately dashed up stairs and called Mr. Mellen. He was already partly undressed, but he got ready as soon as possible, and together we marched down E street to the theater. We found assembled in front of it about a hundred persons, many of whom knew us. They crowded around us, and each of them had a different story to tell about what had occurred. We learned that five minutes before our arrival Mr. Lincoln had been carried over to the house of Peterson, a German tailor, in Tenth street, and directly opposite the theater. I do not remember what became of Mr. Mellen, but lat once entered the house, the street door of which was standing open. In the hall I met Miss Harris, the daughter of Senator Harris, of New York, who had been one of the Presidential party at the theater- As soon as she saw me she exclaimed: ‘Oh, Mr. Field, the President is dying, but for heaven’s sake do not tell Mrs. Lincoln!’ I inquired where Mrs. Lincoln was, and was informed that she was in the first front parlor. She was standing by a marble-topped table in the center of the room, with her bonnet on and gloved, just as she had come from the theater. As I came in she exclaimed: ‘Why didn’t he shoot me? Why didn’t he shoo tme ?’ I asked her if there was anything that I could do, and she begged me to run for Dr. Stone, the President’s family physician. I started to do so; but met in the hall Major Eckert, of the War Department, who told me that the Doctor had already bepn sent for, and, not having yet arrived, he was. himself going to bring him. I returned to the parlor, made this explanation to Mrs. Lincoln, and inquired if there was anything else that she desired me to do. She requested me to try and find Dr. Hall, a retired physician of the highest reputation. It took me a long time to reach him, for he lived at a distance, but I finally succeeded, and started with him to walk back to Peterson’s house. As we approached it we found a military cordon drawn around the door, and, although the doctor was permitted to pass, the same privilege was refused to me. “I returned to Willard’s Hotel and went up to the room of Mr. Rufus Andrews, then recently surveyor of the port of New York, where I met the late City Judge Russell. I remained there perhaps two hours, and then again started for Peterson’s house, accompanied by Mr. Andrews. When we arrived there we found the guard withdrawn and no difficulty in getting in. We proceeded directly to the room in which Mr. Lincoln was lying, a small extension room at the end of the hall, from which you descended to it by two The room was plainly furnished and there were some prints hanging upon the wall. The President was lying transversely across the cottage bedste ad, as he was too tall to be placed in any other position. His head was supported upon two pjllows on the side nearest the windows and his feet rested against the opposite end of the footboard. Dr. Stone was sitting upon, the bed. Secretary Welles occupied a rock ng-chair,. which he did not vacate; I believe, during the entire night Surgeon General Barnes was sitting in an ordinary chair by the bedside, holding Mr. Lincoln’s left hand. All the other persons in the room were standing. Senator Sumner and Robert Lincoln were, the greater part of the time, leaning over the headboard. 1 THE DYING PRESIDENT’S APPEARANCE. “From time to time Mrs. Lincoln was

brought into tho room, but she never remained there long. The President’s eyes were closed and ecchymose. Below the lids and around the cheek bones the flesh was black. Blood and brains were oozing from the wounds in’his head upon the uppermost of the pillows which supported it He had been stripped of all clothing, and whenever one of the physicians turned down the sheet which covered his person, in order to feel the beating of his heart, his brawy chest and immensely muscular arms revealed the hero of many a successful wrestling match in his youthful days at New Salem. “His breathing was for a long time loud and stertorous, ending in deep drawn sighs. He was totally unconscious from the. moment that he was struck by the assassin’s bullet. Except for his breathing and the sobbing of his wife, son,ahd devoted servant, not a sound was to be heard in that chamber for hours. The dropping of a pin might have been audible. “What a tragic episode in life's history was this to all their assembled. And not only to us, but to the nation and to the world. “His pulse was vacillating all through the night—at times strong and rapid and at others feeble and slow. His vital power was prodigious or he would have died within ten- minutes after he was shot.

“The night wore on, long and anxious,and finally the gray dawn of a dull and rainy morning began to creep slowly into the room. And still the martyr lived—if living it could be called. “The town clock struck 7. Almost immediately afterward the character of tlie President’s breathing changed. It became faint and low. At intervales, it altogether ceased, until we thought him dead. And then it would be resumed again. I was standing directly opposite his face, with my watch in my hand. “At last, at just twenty-two minutes past 7, he ceased to breathe. “When it became certain to all that his soul had taken its flight Dr. Gurley dropped upon his knees by the bedside and uttered a fervent prayer. Never was a supplication wafted to the Creator under mere, solemn circumstances. ~ after‘thei.ast agony. . “ When it was finished most of” the persons assembled began slowly to withdraw from the chamber of death. J, however, with a few others, remained. We eloped the eyes completely and placed silver coins upon them, and with a pocket handkerchief we tied up the jaw, which had already begun to fall. Mr. Stanton threw open the two windows of the room. Just then Peterson entered and rudly drawing the upper pillow from under the head of the dead tossed it into the yard. Shortly afterward we retired from the room. Mr; Stanton locked the door and stationed a sentry in front of it. I then went to the front parlor, where I found Dr. Gurley again praying, Mrs. Lincoln was lying upon a sofa mourning, and her son Robert was standing at her bed. When Dr. Gurley had finished his prayer Robert Lincoln assisted, his mother and together we walked to the front door. The President's carriage was standing before the house in the dripping rain, as it had stood there all through that terrible night. As Mrs. Lincoln reached the doorstep she cast a hurried glance at the theater opposite and three tjimes repeated: ‘Oh, that dreadful house I’ She was then helped into the carriage, which drove away. [i “Perhaps the most affecting incident connected with this drama occurred an hour later. Mr. Lincoln’s body, enclosed in a plain wooden box, around which was wrapped the American flag, was borne from the house by six private soldiers; then placed in an ordinary hearse, behind which the soldiers marched like mourners, and so carried it to the Executive Mansion. “I walked back to Willard’s alone that morning. Just as I turned from Tenth into E street I met Chief Justice Chase hurrying in the direction. His eyes were bloodshot and his lace distorted Rs I had never before seen it. ‘ls he dead?' he asked. I answered! ‘Yes,’ and gave him a very brief account of Mr. Lincoln’s last moments. He passed on, and half an hour later he proceed to the Kirkwood House, accompanied by some of the members of Mr. Lincoln's Cabinet and administered there the oath of ofiiqe to Andrew Johnson as President of the United States.”

Close Living.

The little country of Belgium has 480 persons to the square mile, or three to every four acres.' That is, four acr s are made to support three persons. It .the United States were equally crowded tile population woula be 1,650,C00,U00, or more than the population of the whole world. One acre perfectly well cultivated can easily support one person. It is possible to produce sixty bushels on one acre, and this is equivalent to the whole support of at least two persons. It is simply a matter of calculation and management. Belgium shows what can be done. And it is well done, for we do not hear of distress in that busy country, mor of paupers, nor of a rush of dissatisfied Belgians crowding away to better their condition. It shows that high farming and excellent cultivation Of the soil are profitable, and may be taken as one of the facts that proved this to be a settled principTe of agricultural economy.

A Brain You Could Almost Hear.

I once knew a man whose brain was one of the most active of his time, and yet his name is not known beyond the limits of his own school district. When his brain began to act, and as it* were to give down, you could almost hear it He had a fine scholarly mind and yet his liver was torpid. To show how nature delights to deal with incongruities, I need only say that although this man was a poet and an artist in his mind, he .ate pip with a knife and finally died in obscurity. He was not practical with all his greatness, and he walked down the,, long vista of life holding up his pantaloons by means of a shingle nail! How often is this the case? Why should men with the greatest mental endowments be also most prone to gastric eccentricities? And yet it is so. lam that way myself V-Bill-Nye. \ -

His Sixth Medal.

' He ha<J been thrown out as a vidette, and for hours he had peered into the darkness around him to watch for the slightest sign of danger—listened like one who realized that the wild Arab of the desert steals upon his prey with all the silent cunning of the American Indian. As the stars of night began to pale before the advance of dawn he felt like one reprieved. While he watched, the enemy had, for once, seemed to sleep. Daylight would bring a continuation of the march, and every hour would witness a skirmish, but even a battle does not unnerve a man like standing vidette on a lone and dangerous po t. What! Has he become blind? Daylight now covers the desert, and, the vidette is looking towards the camp of of the night. There is no camp. At midnight he left 800 of his comrades. This morning there is no sign of life. He looks to the right, but there is no vidette. He looks to the left—no living thing meets his eyes; He stands and peers and stares and blinks. Is he awake! If so, is he blind ? Has the night played some strange trick on him in this land of strange things and strange fancies ? He moves toward the spot where the night halt was made, but he advances slowly and cautiously, and he hesitates now and then as if to reason with himself. Ah! He is neither blind or daft. Here is a cap—there a belt—here a rope—there a sack, to prove that the camp had been here. Here are the tracks of men and camels, there a broad trail leading away to the south. In the stillness of night a messenger had come to the little band, ordering an instant change of march. Quietly and without alarm the men had been turned out, the beasts made ready, and the videttes called in. All but one! In the hurry and the darkness he had been overlooked.

Leaning on his carbine and looking over the trail left to show the change of march, the soldier reasoned it all out. His command had been gone for hours. He was alone and on foot. Overtake them! He smiled grimly at the thought. The sun and sand and thirst of Egypt were as deadly enemies as the spears, and bullets of the Arabs. He had neither food nor water, A "hundred miles of burning sands and hot winds lay between him and a blade of grass— : a single drop of water, The soldier turned to survey the desert plain. To the east, nothing but sand; to the north, nothing but sind; to the south—ah! He straightened up, shaded his eyes with his hand, and for a long minute continued his gase, then he let his arm fall. A score of Arabs were riding down upon him. Without undue haste—with the dignity befitting an old veteran —the soldier took from his breast and pinned to his coat a medal. Upon its bright side were the words: “The Boer War.” He pinned on another which said: “For Services in Zululand." There was a third—a fourth —a fifth. In his twenty years of soldier life the old man had a thousand times been a target for bullets. This was his last campaign. Death was riding down upon him, but he would die as a soldier—as a British soldier. When the savage horsemen were half a mile away they halted. The old soldier was ready and waiting. There was no thotight of making him prisoner—no thought of surrender. There was a moment for consultation, and then the bunch of horsemen deployed in line and advanced at a gallop.

Steady, now! Crack! Crack! Crack! Two horsemen tumbled from their saddles—a third reeled about in his seat like a man mortally hit. Before another shot could be fired the murderous lances drank blood and the old soldier lay dead. On the hot sands, his face upturned to his foes, and his medals shining as never before in a morning sun, lay the old man, dead. And then, not by the hands of friends -not by the hands of comrades —a sixth medal was placed upon his brawny breast. It was not of gold or silver, but something of more priceless value. It was the w’ords of an Arab .chieftain: —“Comrades a brave man lies here!” —Detroit Free Press. „

Care of Boilers.

Steam boilers are many times injured seriously through the injudicious use of solvents, which, with proper use, would prove very effective and all that conld be desired. It woxild seem to be almost unnecessary to say that when a solvent is used in a boiler, which contains a large amount of scale, and considerable quantities of it are loosened and fall down on the bottom of the boiler-shell, it is very essential that it rehould be removed. If it is not, there is a strong probability, that the boiler will be burned the first time it is fired up after lying idle a day or so. This has happened many times in our experience, and we find it necessary in most cases to specially insist upon a thorough cleaning following the application of a solvent to a foul boiler. Generally it is necessary to shut down and blow off a boiler and open the hand-holes to do the necessary cleaning. With these plates removed it is a very easy matter to thoroughly rake out all loose scale. In most cases, it is also well to remove the manhole plate, send a man inside with suitable chisels and scraping tools, and scrape oft' all pieces of scale which have become partilflly loosened, and see that they, also, are raked-out. This sort of 1 treatment will not only prevent any damage to the boiler-shell, but will, if faithfully followed np, generally result in perfectly clean boilers in a comparatively short time.— The Locomotive.

A Boy’s Fortitude.

A French writer tells this remarkable incident of the Franco-Prusian war: A young officer of the French army was” suspected of being a spy. One night his house was surrounded by German soldiers. Seeing that capture was inevitable, he handed a bundle of secret dispatches to his 10-year-old brother, with instructions to bury them fkn<l*iander mo circumstances to tell where they were. Soon after the young officer was captured, together with his father. As the dispatches could not be found on, the person of the prisoner, search was made for them. The little boy did not deny concealing

them, but refused to reveal the place. His father and brother told him to remain firm, even though they should be killed before his eyes. Next morning the prisoners were led out to be executed. The boy still refused to tell where the dispatches were. Just then a terrible expression of agpny passed over his face, The boy his mouth; a torrent of blood poured out of it, Investigation showed that he had bitten off his tongue, so great had been his temptation to speak and save his father and brother.

Horseflesh.

It will probably be news to many Americans who have lived in Paris that they may have unknowingly often eaten horseflesh at some of the minor restaurants. In 1883 over 13,000 horses, mules, and donkeys were slaughtered for food there, and sold for about half the price of beef. This accounts for the modest prices prevai ing in cheap bouillons. It is claimed that the custom tends to the improvements of the horse. One point may certainly be granted, that worn-out jade is now often got in condition for the meat market and is put to death in a much less cruel fashion than formerly. In former years the government made many eh, forts to stop the sale of horseflesh, and immense quantities of it were seized at different towns, but it is now viewed as having become a necessity. In any case, there are eighty duly licensed horse-butchers in Paris at the present moment. The first efforts to put a stop to the practice of eating horseflesh can be traced as far back as 1739. During the revolution, however, almost the whole of Paris lived on horseflesh, while during the last Franco-Prussian war horseflesh was considered a delicacy. The writer remembers having eaten once at the Quartier Latin a students’ dinner entirely composed of horseflesh. The students tried it as an experiment, which, thanks to good seasoning and good appetite, proved a great success. It is no exaggeration to say that in almost all the cheaper restaurants horseflesh enters constantly into the preparation of soups and stews, and that in many of them roast beet is nothing but roast horse. Of course you cannot easily find out what you are eating in the potages and ragouts. But the horse roast beef always betrays itself as horseflesh when roasted, shows no fibre, and looks more like liver than like-beef, and often has those little round holes which everybody knows who has ever eaten coarsely baked and lough beef liver.— New York Sun.

Railroads in South America.

The Argentine Republic in common with all the South American countries, is fully aroused to the importance of railroads, as agencies of development and progress. Several years ago the Government of the Republic adopted a policy of internal improvements, under which it commenced at Government expense, the construction of a number of great railroads. The cost was found to be too heavy for the current revenue, and by a system of Treasury no’es it was cast upon the public credit, which, very soon, it threatened with impairment. This suggested a change of policy, which has been effected, and a powerful English syndicate, at the suggestion of the Argentine Government, has assumed, by contract, the burden of the enterprise. Three main lines of road are to be forthwith constructed. They all start at Buenos Ayres, the capital, and run inland—one northward to Bolivia, one westward to the Pacific coast, beyond the Andes, and one southward to Chili. In addition, the system is tc> include several internal connecting lines of great importance. The whole system is to be completed and fully equipped within five years, and is to cost $59,000000.

The completion of these roads, with the improvement of the harbor of Buenos Ayrps, which is in simultaneous progress, will more than double the commerce of the Argentine Republic. The rich metal deposits and the vast stockd’anges of Bolivia, the splendid coal mines of Southern Chili, and the abundant agricultural wealth of the whole interior, are all now locked in for lack of transportation, will contribute alike to the exports and the wealth of the country.

Kindly Disposed.

He had wandered around all day trying to sell a mule he had raised on his ten acre farm,, and when night came he was compelled to stable the “critter" unsold. After supper he strolled out, and, passing the town hall where Keene was billed to play Richard, he procured a gallery ticket and went in. It was new to him, and the Keene energy was just his style. - As the play went on his enthusiasm grew and spread until it almost sprung the ventilators, but he only opened his eyes and swelled with repressed emotion. There was a limit, however, and when Richard shouted, “Ahorse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” he jumped to his feet: “Here, old man,” he sung out, “I haven’t got no boss to give you, but I've got a S2OO mule around at the tavern stable that you kin have, and I won’t charge you a d -cent for it.” It took six ushers and a policeman to quiet the house sufficiently to let the play go Merchant Trader.

Liked the Gravy.

At a meeting of a clerical club in an old New England village the late Rev. Dr. Clarke once read a strenuous and eloquent paper on total abstinence to the delight of all his hearers, says the hostess, who took the first opportunity to tell her husband that she l had brandied peaches for supper, and that it was impossible to make a change at that hour. When the peaches served the essayist, who had the posL of honor at his hostess* rinht hand, seemed to find them remarkably fine, and was persuaded to take a second helping. After a while the lady said to him: “Dr. Clarke, won’t you allow me to give you some more of these peaches?” “Well, really,” said the simple old doctor, “they are delicious, but I think I’ll only take a little more of the gravy.” He who is coatent to livo'on probabilities is afterwards forced to die on imp-probabilities.

GIRLS WHO WEAR GLASSES.

A Boston Girl’s Experience With an ‘Oculist 1 of Repute—Fate Defied. Boston girls begin early to reflect the unmistakable Boston No - matter how giddy they begin, they end r by wearing a 'determined, independent, very recently-gloomed expression, as though their brains and their skin had just been sandpapered. The realy protty ones are finder 16, and wear their glossy hair in braids down their backs and sensible little suits with everything taut about them. Their complexions are fresh and rosy, their eyes bright and they have the air of perfect health. After 18, I regret to say, they are not so comely, unless heaven has intended they should eclipse their sister mortals and be known as “belles.” Either the Boston girl is a victim of inherited myopia or she early acquires a weakness of vision by too close application to books, for their reputation for being addicted to eye-glasses is too true. Half the girls I met wore them. “What does it mean,” I asked my companion, as a child of 10 passed by having on a pair of gold-bowed spectacles, “what does it mean that the eye-sight of Americans . should be so defective ? If this goes on, babies in arms will be wearing spectacles before they can talk.” , My friend then told me of her experience with a highly-reputed oculist whom she had consulted for an acute strain of the eyes several years ago. She was always near-sighted, inherited the difficulty, but only used glasses occasionally, One night she read by a flickering gas light and brought on a serious and painful inflammation of the eyeball. Various remedies were tried to allay the trouble without avail, and she then sent soy the oculist in question for advice. He examined her thoroughly; sat her staring into brilliant flame; shut her up in darkness; pulled up first one eyelid, then the other, and finally announced there was a grave inequality of vision, one eye was doing all the work and the other was losing its sight. To make a long story short, she was ordered not to look at a book or do any work of any kind for a month, and then he would write a prescription for spectacles. “Spectacles!” she cried; “no, indeed. If I must wear anything I shall wear eyeglasses.” The oculist smiled grimly and replied eyeglasses could not fit the vision. It was impossible for an optician to make them, and she would eventually be blind if she did not put on the spectacles. He had ordered them for a great many persons who took immense comfort with them now. But my friend is not Bostonese, and she said, “I’ll not join the spectacle brigade at whatever hazard.” She did rest her eyes and she cured them of the acute strain, and then she proceeded to an optician and ordered two pairs of eye-glasses—one to use at theaters and other places where she wished to see from a distance, the other pair to wear when reading. Neither to wear permanently. This was eight years ago, and she sti’l has her eyesight, and, in spite of what the oculist predicted, it is stronger than then, and she rarely has to use the second pair of eye-glasses. She declares that parents can not be too wary about inflicting this blemish on their children’s good looks; that half of the weak visions is caused by carelessness, and when once the glasses are put on they can never be taken off. —Boston Correspondence Albany Journal.

Making Glass Eyes.

“How are artificial eyes made?” the reporter inquired of a local optiticiau. -- ——— „i—.—_ “They are first blown into the shape of a bottle. They look like miniature whisky flasks. Then the operative separates the structure,and, afterblowing in the center colors, the veins, and adding shade to the ball, the edges on the inside are finished off, and the eye, which is nearly always of an original shape, is packed away, perhaps never to be worn. It may lie around in a store for a hundred years before a customer is found whom it will fit or suit in every respect. Very few are made of the same pattern, because there is no rule of size, style, color, taste, or finish to follow. Most of the eyes are made in Germany and France. The best are made there, but a good eye is now being made in this country." “How long do they last the wearer?” “Home people use a dozen while others make one answer. It depends largely upon the condition of the socket in which it is worn. The liquid discharged from some men's eyes is of such a destroying character that it will eat into the glass in a few months, and so completely destroy the smooths surface of the bowl as to make the eye unbearable. Some Men wear an eye five years, but such instances are rare. “A lady came into my store the other day,” continued the optician, “and asked to be fitted for a pair of eyeglasses Of extra quality. She . was a Sister of Charity, but I observed at once that she was the possessor of a glass optic. She did not allude to the fact, neither, did I. She wanted something of the best made to order, and of couse I knew that anything would do to cover the dummy eye. I got out / a frame, placed a splendid crystal in the loop tnat was to cover the perfect eye, but nothing in the other frame. The lady looked at me in amazement (with her good eye), but assumed a®, indifferent .look; She thought the glass was eplendid; read an extract iu a newspaper, and ordered the glasses. Now, you see, I made, the price considerably less. I toftl her they were worth sl2, but to her they would be cheaper,. She returned next day, got her glasses and departed. The false eye was covered with the cheapest kind of * crystal.”— Milwaukee Settlinel.

Exclusiveness.

Traveler (to waiter) —“Is this my room?” sah." “There are two beds in it I don’t want two beds; what’s the other one for?” “De nex man, sah.” • “What man ? 1 thought I paid for the right of being exclusive here." “So you can, sah; so you can." * “How am I gping to manage that?”. “Doan speak ter him."— fittsburqh Dispatch. x j