Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 April 1877 — Page 3

• ■ a, f The Rensselaer. Union. .>• - INDIANA.

jY IOBX PIOTURBS. Buimm. dweller in-eloudlaad, Cloodland, mirtr mth tlaap, Over Uiabmtacu o< ria*cm Shadows of shadow* creep. • Drit&'UitrWUSt A!. . 81 amber slid sweet, ' 'tightly lore swing* thy piltoW - .** Kisses are on thy feet. l KiVi In, i Drifting away to bearen, ' Anohpred in vuluh of (»lm, , , All thy white shll* iuv folded, Silent on seas of balm. i i’i i.ci'F- T»T»o /IJTih Ut (-.• ■' > THK AKXtH)UU.UNS. She has not sang, she bae not wailed, 9UG weir best, , She kneels ftt»d pray* 1 -the unde&led—- . ‘And seek# her ritet * tniJ Ki t *■ » il. i Hileat her ohsek the pillow med». She turns her to her aakiseed sleep; From here and there the shadow fleets And hovers deep., * Some little runtle* stir and creep; A fitful sigh—her vision breaks— She grows so lovely in bar sleep She half awakes. Then sleeps again, with measured breath. At last all troubled thoughts are gone; Her pence is almostisweet as death—,. The night goe* on. , , . —Piute Geranium, in Youth's Companion.

THE FIRST SPRING FLOWER. “ I’ve won the bet,” said Tom to Nell And Bess. ‘ ‘ While you were sleeping I watched the earnest'rays of mom Aoroae the' heavens Creeping, And off to yonder fieldj hied, ■ • -- -Lad basome fa%po£ac£ . .- ’Cause I*oi.eo-gpod--*tund there I spied—“Yog ne7er.s ß li4ifl 2S r y *';l didn’t? 1 Well.TorEWait and see, Yon girlb thought mb Ho lazy"Td leare my. aedr A croons or a daisy. And wagered me a kia—” "Oh! Tom,” You've lost the bet—please pay it” “ Not *til we’ve seen rtre prize,” said Nell, “I think, Tom, you’ve been dreaming.” In her white hand a frog he placed, She set thp echoes screaming. " OhlTom.ycrti wtetch, hew obuld yon plan To laugh at aha provoke**? Said Toms- "&$> April firyt, my dears, f > And ev«jr f!tp|rA.%croiiik<nes!’' Margaret ‘in ~3?- Y. Evening

MY LEGACY.

Our little town sipten. was.in a state of unusual commotion. Knots of Hie were standing at; various corners, rntly discuaßiffMa subject of vast importance. The was this; the eccentric and somewhat Jacob Braidwood, whose wealth was supposed to be fabulous, had :*aT{d a ie%' days ago; and this was the day of his funeral. “Well, What then? That surely is nothing exthQgdinary.” : Ah, ’bnl' qfter the funeral the will was. to be opened and read, and public curiosity, was excited to its highest pitch. A hundred thousand, two hundred thousand, half a million—each and all of as positively named; but, in truth, nothing really could be learnt till after the * luti'eral, which’ my* Httid sifcter and I now watched passing our windows. Then we equipped ourselves for our afternoon walk, and set out, passing in our route several groups of people, and also several houses, the closed windows and carefullydrawn down blinds of which looked the personification of decorous woe. These houses belonged »to various distant relatives of the deceased, who, evidently expected a good snare of the rabiildus fortune. iii i't’ » .• Letty and I walked on, wishing that we, tcto/eoUM lW6k* Mr a legkcv; but, as that was out of the question, we dismissed the subject, s<£ efijpyed our w ( alk. Returning home, we' chose a road which weuld save our passing throueh so many streets; consequently wfi saw few people; but, just as we had almost reached our home, we met*,Mr. Brown,,the rich corn merchant, Whoto wife was a third cousin of Jacob Braidwood’s and to whom rumor hid assigned i legacy. As usual, ceived only a distant nod, and a scowl directed at me, which hfiffe frightened toe. " How enm a*-.,JkQ.wii lpdked at you, Nelly,” sAid'T.efty. ‘’• What cAn be the matter with , hint-? Oh, it is the will, Nelly,” she suddenly added ; “ he has not go* *cy ruoneyAW. " But that needn’t make Mm "scowl at toe in that way,” said I, still Indignant at the frown* ,r On entering our’ own little parlor ire found my father and mothea inclose con- , versation, whibh fthiy jßuddfnly broke off on pur entr|nce, jbofclqg qt eacqj other and then at us in rather an embarrassed manner. Then my father said, apparently with an effort, Nolly; I have news for you.” "News for l me, p*Da? I hope it is is wrong. “No, dear; nothing wrong.” he replied. "It Ik this;’’Mr. Braidwood has left you afcgicy:”' ‘ ,,H 44 Left mfinffiajfecyy i exclaimed. “WhyTf nevefi sjioke to him. It must be a mistake. Surely you are lid, ii seems correct jMougtL”tia|& fath*?- “-But 1 fear tou wifi bewrirwib hurt' at the terms it is bequeathed in. Mr. Reynolds, who was old Jacob’s^lawyer;'showed me the will, and I have copied the bhrt of it concerning your legacy." • Shall ! read it'to you, or wiU you reattift yoqrself ?” 44 Read i#, fiWso*. I. “But how can I be:hurt? He can’t say anything very bad of me, can he ?” .. “My dear Nelly,” said my mother, there is nothing, to hurt you much. Mr. Braidwood had not. .very refined feolianL &ra, v sa r . 7 SsrKfea" j ' 0 ' 1^ After ail Una preamble I felt quite nervous. -i ' “ Well, Nolf, ,v said my father, "here it i«f we won’t keep yon any longer in suspense.” _Mv father then read as fob , Iowb: 44 1. gjvs and 'hfcqutath *to Ellen Warner the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, because she is the daughter of an honest man, and because she is so ugly that she win "never get a husbaim; and, furthermore, as some needy rogue might 2BUfUT: Aaltos! marries Any one wilh an income of less than three thousand dollars a year, the said twenty-five thousand dollars are to he .restored to my heir.” What woman could confess that such words did not give her a pang ? I always

had,known that I was plain; but to hear it thus broadly stated without any softening, was a shock. However I soon recovered from it, and said, gayly: " Mamma, I am veiy much obliged to Mr. Braidwood; I always knew that I was ngly.and I always wished for some money. And, oh, papa, is, it really mine? and can I do what I like with it?” the reality of my wealth now jtriaing me very forcibly. * / "Of course, Nell, you cannot touch the principal Just now," he replied; “ but the interest is yours, and you can soon begin to enjoy it. Mr. Braidwood has been very .thoughtful: he has left you shares in the Great American Mineral Company, which will be transferred to you, so that you will have no trouble in investing your money.” “ Oh, how nice f” said I;" then, mamma, we will get a pony carriage for you; you know the doctor said it would make you quite strong if you could drive every day: and £etty snail go to school, and we will get a new drawing-room carpet; and you and I, mamma, will have new silk dresses, and mine shall be a bright blue.” Fifty other bright visions floated through my excited brain, when my father, kissing me, said, " Well, Nell, I congratulate you on your legacy; but with all these schemes, you will soon spend It. We will talk it over, dear, when you have had time to think about it ” And so- shying he left the room.

"Oh, mamma,” said I, “I am glad now. I think it was kind of Mr. Braidwood to leave me the money because he thought I would not get married; for you know, mamma, it is true I am plain.” i " You have the best and kindest face in the world to me, dear,” said my mother; “ and have been my greatest comfort in all our years of poverty; and, -though Mr. Braidwood’s words about you are hardly polite, I think with you that he was very kind in.leaving you the money. He knew your father’s embarrassments, and that there could not be much provision for you. I know, dear, it has always weighed heavily on your father’s mind, that in his peculiar circumstances there could be so little provision made for you and Letty, and this money will relieve him of that anxiety; that is,to say, Nelly,” she continued, smiling, “ if you are not too proud to take money that has been left you—” “ Because I am ugly, mamma?” said I. “ Oh, no, I am not too proud; and, beside, think of all that the money will do. I always wished for some, but certainly did pot expect it. But tell me all about the will, mamma, and who gets the rest of the money, and how much there is.’ "It seems, Nelly, that Mr. Braidwood has left aDout six hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” she replied. "Of this, a portion is left in legacies of various amounts, yours included; the rest of the money is left for a nephew who is in Canada, and who thus succeeds to a fortune. As this nephew was never heard of here before (he Is supposed to be the son of a sister of Mr. Braidwood’s, who ran away from home about thirty years ago), his - coming in for so large a share of the fortune, of course, disturbs the many calculations rasde, and the will altogether has taken everyone by surprise.” “lam sure it has surprised us not a little, mamma,” said I. " What does our friend, Mr. Brown, get ?” "A hundred dollars to buy a mourningring,” the reply. “ That accounts for his scowl at me this afternoon,” said I, and I related our wonder at Mr. Brown’s cross looks. “ Well, mamma,” I continued, "it is very strange to think of my having a fortune, and to think that, instead of the beauty that generally brings other girls their good fortune, it should have been my want of it that brought me mine. I don’t think I shall grumble any more at my unclassical nose and large mouth." When left alone, I pondered with mixed feelings on my legacy. It was certainly rather humiliating to have it thus put before me, that 1 was too ugly to get married ; for I was obliged to confess to myself that, in spite of my having reached the mature age of twenty-four unwooed, and of my plain face, I had always had a lingering hope that some one might love me, even without beauty, for the shfce of the loving heart I could give in’ return. However, I consoled myself with the reflection that Letty and I were now provided for, and that my dear father’s mind would be thus set at jest. I also thought df the many comforts this money, added to our slender income, would produce; and then I began to feel rather proud than otherwise of my ugliness. If papa’s eldest daughter had been a beauty, thought I, this fortune would not have been left to her; she would likely have been married, to be sure; hut then she wouldn’t have been at home to nuree mamma, and take care of papa, as she now will be. There is always some compensation for every adverse thing in this world, thought I, continuing my philosophic meditations; and thtAigli people will be sure to talk about tny legacy, and I may hear some illnatured comments, it is a substantial goodi'etpii I don’t intend to mind what tteywty--1 V CHAPTER n. Time passed on ; I got accustomed to the ffldt of my wealth, and the nine days’ wonder caused by Jacob Braidwood’s will, my legacy, and the unknown nephew, was’in. a measure exhausted. Of course I haa to hear a good many satirical rein arkson my legacy and its conditions; but I had expected that, and was prepared for and beside, these things died downmnd were, in time, forgotten. We'nad got the pony-carriage I had plann*i, and it was my greatest pleasure to drum my mother every day, end to wati# the decided improvement in her hequ|M> W e were air happier than We had been for a long time, as the cares of poverty were removed from us. My fatqWfmoved with a lighter step; his embarrassments in business, and the consequent hardships entailed on his family, had weighed heavily on him. These embarrassments were caused by the dishonoraVle conduct of a man for whom he had become security; and though they were still to be surmounted, yet his heaviest care Was relieved. Letty was happy at scfiwm and a most promising scholar. And how that I 100 had leisure tocultivafe my® Accomplishments, which were but scanty, it was discovered that my musical ta& Wjas good, and that my voice wasun“UsUdUr fine, np always been fond of music, but hitherto W talents had only been empldffed ih singing old ballads to mv father, or wselty rhymes for children. But now, SigUgjr Piccia, my music .master, complimented me highly, and went into raptures otWiPbpportunitles about Miss Warner’s voice. “ You have one magnificentvoice, mees,” said he. "You could make your fortune on the stage.” But I told him my fortune was made already. It was wonderful to see with how much more consideration J was treated, now that I was Miss Warner, the owner of $25,000, not ugly Nelly Warner, who was nobody, and haa nothing. Our clergyman discovered that, my voice was the very thing to lead the choir, a discovery never made before. I had numerous invitations ; in fact, I had become quite an

important personage. Many a time in my heart I thanked Jacob Braidwood tor his legacy; and thought, too, that it wan well there had been that check to my vanity along with it, as, otherwise, my head would have been turned. In this way nearly a year passed on—a very happy year it had been. My mother’s health was greatly improved, my father’s spirits were lightened, and Letty and I were busy ana happy. The unknown nephew, the heir to the large fortune, and who pas now krown to be a Mr. Hugh Roecoe, was expected home by every steamer. Mrs. Reynolds had Issued invitations for our usual yearly evening party, which was looked lorw&rd to with delight by all the young people of our little community. When dressed, on the evening of the party, I wont to show myself in my new and pretty ball dress to my father and mother. I found an old friend sitting with them, who greeted me thus: "Miss Nelly, people will be saying you got your legacy on false pretences, for to-night you don’t look at all like a young iady likely to want a husband.” My mother looked at me fondly and said: 44 I hope you will have a pleasant party, Nelly, dear.” "Don’t forget to wrap yourself up warmly, Nell.” was my father’s practical recommendation. On arriving at the Reynolds’, I found Mrs. Reynolds looking particularly important. ' r 44 He’s oome, Nelly,” she whispered, after our greetings. * "Who’scome?” I asked. “Mr. jloscoe, the heir,” she replied. "He came from Liverpool to-day. Mr. Reynolds is with him just now, and he was to ask him to come here to-night. I do hope he will come.” 8o saying, Mrs. Reynolds moved on, to welcome another group who had just arrived.

The party was very pleasant. Since the receipt of my wonaer-working legacy J no longer moped in a corner all the evening, as I had been wont to do. Greatly to my own surprise, I found myself the, fashion; and, without doubt, the attention I received made me more animated, whilst the idea of being independent gave me more confidence and self-possession. Later in the evening I saw Mr. Reynolds enter the ball-room, but alone, and I wondered if the heir had arrived or not, for I was vciy curious to see him. Before Mr. Reynolds had been very long in the room, he took advantage of a lull in the (lancing to make me sing for him. In the middle of my song, which was Tennyj son’s “ Swallow, Swallow!” I had the uncomfortable sensation that somebody was looking fixedly at me, than which sensation I think nothing can be more unpleasant. 1 was therefore glad to finish my song and look up, so as to break the spell, when I caught a glimpse of a pair of bright dark eyes, whose brightness, I had just time to see, was heightened by a gleam that looked suspiciously like tears, when their owner turned hastily away, as if ashamed of his emotion. What a compliment, thought I, to my song! Dancing began again, and, in a short time, Mrs. Reynolds entered the room leaning on the arm of a tall and handsome man, the possessor of the bright eyes I had before noticed, and which were now sparkling with fun as he listened with aa amused air to Mrs. Reynolds’ constant flow of words. They were passing, in their promenade, the couch on which I was sitting, when a servant approached and summoned Mrs. Reynolds from the room. “ Oh, Nelly," said she, " this is Mr. Roscoe. You will amuse him till I come back.” With this informal introduction she bustled off. Mr. Roscoe sat down, evidently nothing loath, and coolly announced his readiness to be amused. I felt very awkward and nervous, and would have given anything for coolness, like Mr. Roscoe; for just then I could think of nothing to say. But he came to the rescue himself. - " You were the singer a little while ago, were you not?” said he. I answered in the affirmative. " Then I have to thank you ior a very great pleasure,” he continued; and in some neatly-turned compliments he praised both song and singer, adding " that song has peculiar associations for me; hut I love all songs. I am exceedingly fond of music, and am flad to find that I am likely to meet some indred souls here. I did not expect it, I assure you; for I was told that this was the dreariest little town in the world, and see how it has been belied. I have only been here three hours, and I have been warmly welcomod by a motherly old lady, had an opportunity of seeing a great many pretty faces, and of hearing a charming song admirably sung. ’ ’ Mr. Roecoe’s conversational and complimentary talents were evidently of a nigh order. I had np need to say a word. “ There is one young lady in the town I should much like to see,” continued this self-possessed Individual, " and that is a Miss Warner, or Yerner >c or some such name. Do you know her?" “ I know a Miss Warner,” said I, “if that is the name.” . I had some suspicion of what was coming, but 1 wasn’t going to announce my-

'‘Yes, I think, that is the name," said he. "Has she had a legacy left to her lately?” 44 Yes,” I replied. 44 And is she here to-night ?” “ Yes,” I replied again. "Pray point her out to me if you see her,” said he. "I don’t see her just bow,” I replied, which ww strictly true, looking round, and striving to look nonchalant. ft 4 Now, Miss Lily,” said he, (he had evidently caught up my name wrong, and oh, how mateful I was!) 44 do tell me what vou would have done had you received a legacy with the same stigma attached as Miss Warner’s ?—for I suppose you know the circumstances. Of course, in the remotest bounds of possibility such a thing could never happen to you” (I made a bow), 44 but let us suppose an impossible thing, and what would you do ? Would you not have Indignantly refused the money?” 41 No,” I replied, “ I think 1 should have taken it, and been very grateful.” “ Even if you had been left it as yon were too ugly to get a husband? I thought no lady could ever forgive an as sertion like that. And is Miss Warner,' then, really so plain?” he inquired. 44 Hideous,” said I. 44 1 should very mnch like to see her,” said he; "she must have red hair and a squint, surely?” I was saved replying to this question, as a gentleman came up and asked me to dance. I rose, quite delighted to get away from the troublesome cross-questioning of Mr. Roscoe; I resolved, if possible, to keep out of his sight for the remainder of the evening, as there was no doubt he would soon find out to whom he had been talking. " 1 have the best of it, however,” thought I, somewhat triumphantly;" it will put even his coolness out to find that he has been talking of me to myself.”

The evenftg pined quickly, I had glimpses occasionally of the tall figure and bright eyaa, hit whan I saw them tin my vicinity I contrived to evade them ny passing always imp another room. Next morning at breakfast, I narrated my adventure, amid shouts of merriment from all. < A day or two after, this I drove mamma in our little phaeton, to call oh Mrs. Reynolds, ’ with whom «e found M*Roscoe seated. Mrs. Reynolds was delighted at seeing my mother, whom she had not seen, save on her sofa, for a long time. After due introductions, and when tne matrons had commenced a seemingly interminable conversation, Mr. Robcoo came up to me. “ Oh, Miss "Warner,” said he, " can you ever forgive my rudeness the othfcr night? Ido not know what apologv to make. I have wandered lieri and there and everywhere for, the last (wo days, hoping I might meet yop, and crave yopr pardon.” ’ ' • " There is no apology needed,??, said 1, in as careless a tone as I cculd assume, and striving to ldcAt dignified;'but it was of no use, . The recollection of our con vernation, and Mr. Roscoe’s perplexed face, were tow much’ tior me, and I burst could not but join. f .1. *i » i>< After this we ( were the, best of frjehds immediately, and had a delightful ’chat, whilst thto elders discussed everything and evenrbofiy. At last Mrs, Reynolds said: “ You young people are very merry. Come here, Nelly dear, and tell uS’tyhat it is all about.” \ r ,. , , r | I could not resist the temptation of 'being mischievous,, so I related to Mrs. Reynolds fii6w > anxious Mr. Roscoe had been the other evening that I should out the plain Miss Warner.tp/him; at which the kind old lady laughed till the tears ran down her ’ cheeks. There is nothing like laughter for removing the stiffness, of a morning call, or .for making fieople friends in the shortest space of time. I think that was the pleasantest morning rap I ever remember to have made. 1 ’' * ! ,

As* Mr. Roscoe assisted us into our little carriage, he said to mamma: “ I hope, Mrs. Warner, you will allow me to call, and make my apologies in proper form;” to which shp of course replied in the usual formula, that wtf should he glad to see him, etc. > ' i. , Mr. Roscoe was for the next few months the lion of our town. Having not only his own handsome appearance, bat also his handsome JOrtune, to recommend him, he was a general favorite, and was courted and feted on all sides. Mothers and daughters welcomed him as an eligibly person, while the male members of the family recognized in him the wealthiest inhabitant in otir town, probably at some future period to represent it in Congress and have great influence. * , The young heir tppk all this attention as coolly as possible,’and made himself at home everywhere. He was not long in availing himself of the permissipn to visit us, and indeed I must say a considerable part of his time was spent in our house. Our mutual passion for music was a great bond of union—though to be sure he might have had. music anywhere, for just at this time music was most assiduously cultivated lty all our young ladies—but I think our first introduction, went a great way in strengthening our friendship. At length cam 4 the denouement , and the last and most wonderful effect of my legacy, for to it, in the first instance, I attribute, and always shall attribute, my happiness., Mr. Roscoe proposed, and was accepted,’ for he would not be refused, thougli 1 in vain told him he ought to marry a beauty, and that people would call us Beauty and “ If they do, Nelly,” said he,, “ I shall be quite agreeable; for I always thought you a beauty; and if they call me the beast, why, it can’t be helped.” And so this self-willed individual had his own

way. / Gossip at first refused to believe this startling supplement to the altogether exciting story of Jacob Braidwood’s will. 44 What ! plain Nelly Warner induce the richest and handsomest man in the county to marry her I—the . Idea was incredible ;” and, as I told Hugh, he was very much felt for on the occasion. "My only regret on the subject,” said he, 44 is that I have more than three thousand a-year, and that yon may keep your legacy, for I even gnidge you mat, Nelly, darling. I should like my. wife to have nothing to give me but herself.” His wish was gratified, for with his consent, and with the sanction of my dear father and .mother, the wopderful twenty-five thousand dollars were settled on Letty. But Betty wori*t need the money to get a husband, for instead of being.ugly, she bids fair to be a beauty; arid I can wish her no better fate than that she may be as happy as her plain sistar; —Domestic Monthly.

A Thrilling Adventure.

James Hancock, foreman of the repair gang of the city water-works, and brother of Superintendent Hancock, had a narrow escape from a horrible death at Ludlow this afternoon. The twenty-four-inch pipe leading from the great reservoir to the higher brook has for some time needed repairs, and, a coffer-dam having been built to shut off the water, Mr. Hancock crawled into the pipe at the reservoir end, Intending to go through its entire length to ascertain precisely what repairs were necessary. After getting about a quarter of a mile in he found that a section of pipe, having sunk somewhat in quicksand, had not emptied itself, and that it would be impossible to crawl through to the higher brook-end without danger of drowning. Of course he could not turn about, and he had no other alternative than to back out—a very slow, tedions and painful process. It was intensely cold inside the pipe, and he soon became benumbed, and so announced in a feeble voice to the men at either end, who were listening, and were becoming extremely anxions for his welfare. Meantime the coffer-dam was leaking badly, and the men had to wprk with all their might at the pomps to prevent the water from flooding and drowning Mr. Hancock. Hie danger became so Ct that a cart-load of sawdust was ped behind the dam, and bags of sand were thrqwp in to stop the leak. After Awhile Hancock became so exhausted as to be unable to speak in reply to the shouted inquiries as to his progress. Hour after hour passed, and a large number of persons gathered expecting that the man wopld never be got from the pipe alive. Finally, after an imprisonment of five and a half hoars, he backed out alive, yet trembling and nearly dead.—Springfield (Mast.) Cor. Boston Journal. —Somebody having remarked that a great many people were hut of doors yesterday, Lavender wanted to know why they didn't go to a door factory and buy some.

Youths’ Department.

a Talk about beauty. “ Amur, do you think it Is wrong to wish to be beautiful f” Something in the earnest look and tone, recalled another question asked by this sAme niece of (nine, years before when she was a wfic girl of seven." • > Then she had broken a long silence with, "Aunty, do you think the heatheh will be saved r* •■■< > j < .Evidently the years which made her almost a woman, had not settled every doubtful subject to her satisfaction.” . I looked into-tho face no longer childish,, but .childlike, and thought within myself that there was small peed for youth, and health, and innocence, to wish anything of the kind; but like a wise woman I kept such thoughts to myself, apd answered (after the manner Of my Nation) with another question. “ Why, May, do you wish to be beauttfhl?”

"Yes, Ido,” frankly, and with a kind of defiant shrug of the shodlders—“ and do you think It is wrong?” "• Here wAs an opportunity; and theretipon I 1 "made a small talk,” As an Indian Would say, Boinethlng 1 after this fhshion:’ 7 t ' ,! "No, I do not think it is wrong; hut there are so many other things so much better worth wishing for. I would a great deal rather be what is called 4 a fine-look-ing’ woman r thaa a beautiful woman. .1 would rather* have beauty of mind and of heart, than of person. "As a rule, which has few exceptions, a beauty is conscious, and vain, and empty-headed r the last as a matter of course, since she relies on her face rather than'on her brains. I have known, personally, only ope beautiful woman who was not spoiled by her own charms, and she had the rare grace of unconsciousness. She honestly thought herself plain-lookjng. “ Then, too, by one of the laws of compensation, beautiful people witi no more real true love thstn homely ■ -people win. Think over the persons you csire the most for, and you will'he stn*prtsMi ; to find Jiow little your liking aepends upon their looks; or rather how fair Mxeir faces have come to seem, because oPthe good hearts Which have expression there. We always see our loved ones through Love’s spectacles. As far back as l ean remember, that old saying was dinned in my ears; 1 < Handsome is that handsome does,’ and, I' used to woa~ der what it meant; now, thinking of many lovely lives which have illumined very plain features, I knave. i , 44 It is a common experience for persons going into strange places to think, ‘ How homely all the people attkf hut kindly fellowship nearly always changes , the opinion.:. v nh ui "Wouldyou like to know, my dear, where is the best -description of a truly noble woman I have ever, read ?—the one I would most like to. have you resemble ?” . May brightened up with a new interest, and her eyes said "yes,” though she did not interrupt with a word; and 1 continued: . - "Youwill flnd.it in the thirty-first chapter pf Proverbs, and you will dee there is pot one word said. about beauty except that it is vain; yet I am very sure such a woman .would have a beauty of the soul lasting bej oud the bloom of youth; all down through, years, and Into the. great hereafter.” , . There Was a moment’s 1 silence; whien my niece drew a long breath, (I'could not make it out if it was relief at the end of my sermon, jbir home deeper feeling,) and said: ~ ■ “Well, Aunty, you have your wish. You are not a beautiful woman, but yon are a very fine-looking worpan.” “I looked half indignantly into the upturned face. Could it be May was making fun of me ? But no; faintly discernible perched upon her nose, (that nose which would turn up a little, and on whose tip rested a tiny freckle, which last I had occasion to know, was May’s private "thorn in the flesh,”) were a pair pf the very 44 Love’s spectacles” I had been talking about, and through them I stood transfigured in her eyes Wide-Awake.

One of Dean Stanley’s Sermons to the Young.

A writer in the Standard (Chicago) says Dean Stanley preached this most beautiful and noble sermon to so less than 5,000 young hearers assembled in that magnificent old cathedral of London, known as the Westminster Abbey. In England, some of the good people celebrate what they call "Holy innocents’ Day,” in commemoration of the brutal munler of the innocent children by the tyrant Herod. The aay is the 28th of December. “ Dean Stanley (says the Standard writer)is an old man. whose hair is almost white, and his face shines with goodness as a Sunbeam with light. He is a very learned man, and is greatly respected and beloved by the good people of all England and the entire world. His sermon to the young folks is as follow* : 44 Love honest work, love to get knowledge, never be ashamed of saying yonr prayers morning and evening. It will help you to he good all through the day. Always keep your promises; ao not pick up foolish ana dirty stories; never, never tell a lie; never strike, or hurt or be rude to a woman or a girl, or any one weaker or younger than yourselves. Be ready even to risk your own lives to save a friend, ora companion,- or a. brother or sister. Be very kind to poor dumb animals; never put them to pain; they are .God’B creatures as well as you, and if you kutt them you will become brutal and base yourselves. Remember always to be Sntle and attentive to older people; ten and do not interrupt whan they are talking. If you have an old father, or a grandfather, or a sick uncle or aunt, remember 'not to disturb them by loud talking or rough play. Be pareful and tender to them- You cannot think what gopd it does them, and if it should happen that any of you have a poor father or a poor mothe? who has to get up early to go About their business and earn their bread, and yonr bread, remember—-what a pleasure it will he to them to Arid their little, boy or little girl has been out of bed before them on'a Cold winter’s morning, and has lighted* a bright, biasing fire, so as to give them a warm cup of tea. Think what pleasure it would be to them, if they are sick, if they are deaf or blind, to find a little hoy or a little girl to speak to them, or to read to them, or to lead them about. It is not only the comfort they have in having help; it is a still greater comfort In knowing that they have a good little lon or a good little daughter who is anxious to help them, and who they feel sore will be a joy and not a trouble to them by day and by night, " No Christmas present cap be so wel come to any father or mother or friend as the belief that their ch.ldren are growing up truthful, manly, courageous, courteous, unselfish and religious, and do not think

srasusawiußMßUt; and in win* is going (®n, that whoever shall never fail. Let the ’gnd.'ftrighu.n s&t are little English buys agdgirtat wUd are determioed to dp theijr “ It was only tha other day 1 heard of a brave and mode*i boy—Mammon Parker was his name—who was only fourteen yearn of age, add who haa already Saved at different times the lives of no leas than What yon past do-*«H perhaps by plunging into the stormy spa, but at any rate fef saVtoT i tittle W&tor or a little sister fppm going Wrong. .Ypu can you wUI yery soon ran asnwi ,Bad'people are alwaya afraid pf gopd people, even though the go6d are machTwerTknd even though the geod may beontya little child. " 1 knew once a .very, famous man who lived to be very k. be eighty-eight.. He .was always the delight eagle’s whentit (flashed fire at what was which belonged to him, all tattered and torn, which he fiafi when a-little hoy at school, and phai do you think I found written in? bMoWn’fcand in tftto 4>e*y first vicious tonguesf-be Jtfal arid" Mar not’ aUOhrppgh i#f,*nd he was loved and honored down to the day when he was carried to hlWpAve. Be be with you then, Pow arid always.”

A Cincinnati Druggist's Confession of How a Tramp Did Him.

Hb was a, bright, ihtoUigef* fellow, talked glibly about drugs, aam he kept a drug store Iti some prare tatiridtaha, had come in' On i(ui i evening train,. find in his sprung outrupoa him from -an all**. Ibis accounted for his Uack eye and the fact that he Had ho money A&tt* tifcrson. He had oome hese to buy a,stoek ©/’drugs, Domtl wanted t© look around and find the goods. ssraidftßri&ißi: remarked, often bad on hand an old village-store, In the first plate, hO wanted to hunt up the soaps. I, happened to remember mat I had a lot or»ld sokpa on hand,, add I went to the trwhlaio go wA&BUi k; struck • bargain that watt satlsactory to ajwaiKti and. that we could arrange, fasthttr along, personally.; He next wan tod sotttowhisky aj&juan gallon, T thought. He said he was a pp BM/bwAife £** at the color and the Bead i then Be lipped a little of Jt, allowing it to mat ,in h»s mouth, smacked hi* jibs over’lt and finally drank it off, and pronounced it a very fair article..’Me concluded that he would take ten gallons of it. He then commenced talking about drags, and said shrill suited him- Then he started fdr the door; but be halted and canye back, and remarked that he guessed he’d take another taste of that whisky; he Wanted to see if he had.heon deceived about-the, aftertaste (hat it left in the mouth. I had began to haiemy suspicions’of the fellow, UOTL I “dropped-” ,1 iremarked: “You are a out of this store. 1 ' And he god That fellow had gojeejthhmglft’aU UmA husineas’r-wjth °ty ne wan tea another, it walrbetter whisky than-he had been in the of drinking.

A Good Word for the Plumbers.

' The plumber is an abused man. AH winter long the papers have been flinging at him and maligning him, arid yet when the reai facts are brought thl light the plumber stands forth as free from guile as any living man: Yesterday, Whin a De. troit plumber was asked to contribute the money for the proposed river tunnel, he repudiated the idea that he was even able to enbacribe a tenth <4 the sum. “But last winter was a tough one—busted pipes—five pounds of solder to a pin-hole f leak—jobs on / tits slate three days in advance ttharp—weather right in.yoorti*n»r attitbeuime.” 44 Yes; bnt I didn’t make anything.” They jfttay you bought ijt jqottinghorss.” ■ •».- • ,!• |jr 'Mr 44 Oh, that’s nothing I If I tem in some other busiwasa I could buy tw*_” * “ You wear diamonds/’ , “Yes; but, diamonds are very cheap—very cheap.” , ,j “You carry a gold - headed cane around,” “ Capes are way driwp in pri<K*~a drug in ibe market.’’ “ Hqw about .that house mansard roof?” ■* • hi, 4 4 That I Oh, my mother-lu-law deeded 44 And yonr silver plate H “ Had that witii my other wife.” “And those vactjnt tote op,the Cass farm?” J, { “ I traded an old holrse ftp them twenty you haven’t reajly mttde any. thing for a ymr* " don’t believe we have had ores, 18,000 cases of busted water-pipes sjpcelast November, and, when you come to figure up materials, labor, rent arid losses,‘lt leaves me iu debt; 1 want to sell otft ahd go to making'chairs. There's wMereVou can make some money—utte paint work prifty P into the jote^ b aJd*kSp°the curtains down when selling to a customer. Don’t talk of profits in my business, sir. Why, I am now half dead for the want of ajlvo-cent cigar I”— Detroit FmPress.