Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 4, Number 31, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 January 1874 — Page 7

tying her bonnet.

Tying ber bonnet under her efaln, fthe tied her Mvia ringlet* In Bnt not alone In tbe silken mare Did «he catch ber lovely, floating hair, for, tying ber bonnet nnder her coin, She tied a yoang man's heart wtthfttj

Tied a yoang man's heart within.

Pteeper and steeper grew Che hill Madder, merrier, chillier still The western wind blew down, and played The wildest tricks with the little makl. As, tying her bonnet nndrr ber e&ln, She tied a yoang man's heart within.

O western wind, de yon think it was fair To olay #ach trick* with floaUng hair? To gladly, gleefully do yonr best To blow her against the young man abreast Where be asgladly folded her In, And kissed her month and her dimpled chin? Ah! Ellery Vane, yon little thought, An boar ago, when yoa beaoagbt This country lass to walk with yoa, After th*son bad dried the dew. What perilous danger you be in. As she tied her bonnet under her chin.

The Story of a Kiss.

You wished to see me, Doctor I did. Miss Dallas, and upon a very serious matter. Pardon me if I appear to be meddling with your secrets I do it only to save a fellow-creature's »f®!'

The yoang woman face flashed aarIng the remarks, bat paled when be spoke so gravely.

He continued 'Three weeks ago I was called to the bedside of Harry Oilman, and found him prostrated with the brain fever. I saw at the outset that the case was a desperate one, but hoped that skill and care might bring him thiough. From that day until this I have been almost constant in tny attendance upon him have battled with the disease Inch by inch and striven, with what skill I had at command, to save him. 'Early in my aitendance I saw there was some dreadful disappointment beneath his malady, if not the cause of his prostration. In the hours that his mind wandered, your name was constantly on bis tongue. His sister told me, in answer to my questions, that Harry was deeply and truly in love with you, but that an estrangement has come'between you lately and I think this blow has been the one that brought him under my care. To-night the crisis in his disease will be reached, and toniubt will answer our questions as to whether he will live or die. Without any help but such as I can render he may be saved but a man's life is too

f-reat

a Jewel to trifle with, and we feel you would but help us we could surely save him. Will you consent to assist us?'

What oould I do T' «The plan I have marked out in my mind,' said he, is slmbly this: About midnight he will arouse from his present stupor, and In the next ten minutes bis fate will be decided. The main

Jbrt

joint will be to have him make an eff*r his own life. Should he try to live his chances will be among the best should he make no such effort, we might, with stimulants, carry him beyond danger but if, at that moment, he recalls the past, and despondently sinks under it, no power under heaven but you can save him.'

And what wonld you have me do?' a Just this, Miss Dallas: If, when he awakens, he Is hopeful and remembers nothing of Ms dlsappotntment, we will not need you at all. But should he begin to sink, the sight of you would save him.'

But how We oould pretend you had recalled your decision of a few, weeks g»0,* 'Oh, that would be horrible I could never do that.'

Not to save a man's life?' he asked, solemnly.' He would not thank mo for saving his Hie by such a mockery.' she said.

Why, I might bavo to say that I loved htm, might I not?' Yftg.*

Oh, I could not do it!'

Not even to save his life f' Yen said that before/ she said, but not even for that could I do this thing. Harry and I have even been dear friends. I never fancied that he oould love me until he surprised me by his avowal, and then I told him that it oould not be. How could I stand at his bedside BOW and say that I loved him No, no, it cannot bol Think of some other plan.' 'I have thwught of all ways, Miss Dallas. I may not have to ask you to do this thing thai you dislike so much, unless in the stringency I spoke of. I will not say to you what you ottfiAC to do, my dear young lady, but I promise you, if 1 am compelled to JOU* ajfe slstance, that I will explain the whole matter to Horry, just as it is, and give him a correct report and understanding of your part in it.' •But bow could I »ter meethiin again

It wilt be no harder then than It is now,' said the doctor. And I have no douot Harry wUl lssvt the plaoe if h® recovers.'

I would be glad to help yon, Doctor, but this would seem like pr*vlanity to me.'

It lto save a fellow-creature's Ufe, and be all the blame on me,* I wish I could do It,* she mid, kindly, but what an awftol thing it is for a girl to do.'

I can appreciate your beeltatlon,and yet, if you were my daughter. 1 would say that it was your duty to do It.

Thank you for saying that, Doctor it decides me, I will do what you ask.* 4 i,

Thanks will call for you Ibis evening, and explain your part to you.*

Later in the night there gathered around the bed tfi# Hek man Ills mother and sister*, the doctor and Kate Dallas. The doctor had explained to the others the part he had persuaded Kate to actt if it should be necessary, and they had thanked her over and over again for consenting. They Mt near each other the mother and sister* wondering in their own hearts that any girt could know toelr Harry and not lore him, and yet, they are women enough to know that lore cannot he foresd or reasoned.

How he now. Doctor?' the mother whispers, and his renly, There!* no change.' They await the alow turning* of another hoar, and the sleeper make* some movement* with his lips, and the doctor, bending ova* him, catches tkd word, Kate/bat he does not tell It to the others. Bv-end-by there b» aoosber jmovement, tit* doctor beckon* iheta out of room. 'In quarter of an hoar more be

will awaken,' be says.

They were strolling together np the bill. Where the wind comes blowing mercy and eh ill And

it blew the carta, frolicsome race. Atl over the happy Till, scoldingaufSaughlna.she tied them In Under ber beautiful dimpled ehin. And it blew a color, bright a* the bloom Ot the pinkest fuchsia's UNwiogplain*, All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl That evt-r imprisoned a romping earl, Or, tytaK ber bonnet ander iter enm.

Yon, Mrs. Oil

man and Ruth, will stand near me and be ready to e»tch the first question h# asks and answer it. Mi^s Dallas, you will stand at the door and come if I speak to yon, and act as I have told you befora If we are prompt and careful, and God wills it, we will save bis life.'

The mother snd sisters step softly to the bedside, and the doctor, reading the tremor In Kate's eyes, waits to speak with ber. 'You will not have to say a word, Miss Dallas.

will play the tyrannical

doctor to perfection, and save you, as well as quiet sny apprehensions that come to his mind. God bless you,Miss Dallas!'

It was no common case with Doctor Brown, this attendance on Harry Gilman. When he had came to Melville, a poor, unknown graduate, seeking to establish himself and earn his daily bread, it was Harry Oilman's father who bad been tbe first to trust him, the first to say a kindly word to him the one who bad taken him to bis own fireside and made him feel he was in the bouse of a friend the one who had honored him with his friendship in all tbe succeeding years. Doctor Brown was now, with skill and care, repaying to the son tbe debt be owed to the father, and he could not have done more for his own child. As he looked into the face of Kate Dallas, he could not but feel was a fearful experiment be was about to make in two lives, but he brushed the thoughts aside, and re turned to his patient.

There were the premonitory sympt oms of awakening upon the part of the sick man, and tbe hearts of the women around him seemed bursting with suspense and anxiety.

At length tbe eyes opened tbe wild look in them soon gave way to one of recognition, and the lips feebly uttered:

Mother.' She could not speak her heart was too full for words, but she beut over and kissed him.

Have I been here long 'Not such a great while,' said the cheery voice of the doctor, but plenty long enougbl Here, take a drop of this,' and he gave him some stimulating drops. 'Save I been very sick •"You have been pretty sick,my boy,' said tbe doctor,

but you must not

talk. Turn over and go to sleep again, and you can talk as long as you wish, tJ-morro"ir.'

Is that Ruth Yes, Harrv.' Tell Kate^—' Nonsense,' broke in tbe doctor, 'take a little more of this and go to sleep without another word,' but he turned to Kate, and bis eyes said, 'it will have to be done.'

She tried to still the beating of her heart, but she bad no fear for herself. 'Tell Kate'—Harry started again, bat the doctor—after a quiet draught was administered—Said:

Why don't you tell her yourself?' 'Who? Is she here?'he asked excitedly, but the doctor caught his hand, quietly saying, 'Do not get excited. Harry, but listen obey me exactly, and all will be well. Miss Dallas and you have had some misunderstanding, out you have fancied it to be muoh more serious than it really was. She is here now to see after you she wants you to get well, and If you obey me you will.'

Tbe sick man's eyes opened wider and wider as his physician proceeded, and when he said, 'Miss Dallas is now here,' he would have raised himself, butthedootor was watching, and prevented his making more than the first effort. He turned to Kate, and in*answer to his look, she came close to the bedside.

My orders,' said the doctor, 'are that you may look at Miss Dallas a moment, but you must not speak, and then she and your own people must leave tbe room.'

Kate's face was almost deathly white {is she turned towards Harry. VKate, oh Kate!' cried he with tbe most supreme happiness written.in his

There, there 1' said the doctor, 'you disobey me already. Clear out pf the room, you women, at once.'

No/ said Harry, 'stop a minute Kate, will you kiss me?' Yes,' she said, and she pressed her lips to his face.

You may go now,' be said, and he took the draught the doctor offered him, tnrned to the wall with sweet contentment written on bis face, and in a few moment's the doctor's practiced ear told' bint,his patient was asleep.

He walked out where the women were awaiting him, took Kate's hands In his, and aaid. 'You have saved his life.'

Thank God!' came swelling up from the mother's heart. From this point Harry's recovery was rapid. His frequent inquiries for Kate were parred until the hour came when Dr. Brown felt the story had best be told. There was no danger to be feared for Harry, while something might possibly happen to annoy Kate so he set about unfolding the stratagem. Harry listened attentively, hie fftco turning fed and pale by tamp, hut be spake no word until the story was finished.

I did this,' said the doctor, 'because I knew it was the last chance of saving your life. I kept her back until I saw it must be done.'

Have yto Men K«* since thai night?' Harry asked quietly.

41saw

Doctor, I want toaak yon one queetlon. Do yon think I can ever have any hope of winning her love?' 'To be frank with you, my dear boy, do not think yoo over can. I haw given yen a oarefcl account of what passed between n& at our interview, and to me her manner showed that yoa had no part in her heart.'

Y0t mother ways *h* baa sent over dailv to inquire for mew* t*es, but it was at my suggestion, until I hid told you tbe story.'

Doctor, atn, so fWr as yoa can tell, in my right mind am I not •Certainly you are.'

The fever has all gone *Qf course it baa, What are yo* driving at?' •Just this,' said be, with bittern em. *t wish to heaven 70a let me die?* •Why, Harry.* 'Intent it. Yon ought tofcaveTet t*e die.'

just loving or being leved. Yoa have yoor mother and wafers, if you JMI nothing for yonraett,'

Well, let it go. As I *m alive, I must make the beet of Ik I thank y«a just as much as if lif* waa dear to me. When Mb I drtve tfalV "To-morrow, if you elnx*. Where do voo want to got* 1 %s*e Kate Dallas.* «Not to r-^rry ber, Hartr.' •No. to inft ber, and then wttMrttvr from her prraene* forever.'

Can I hel YOU No, except tolet me visit her with

out announcing that I am coming. It shall be as you wish.' The next day

Harry

Her eyes tried to read in his if the doctor had told the story but she said:

hope you will soon be out of the doctor's bands.'

41learned

She had covered her face again, and had be looked closely he might have seen tears forcing their way between ber fingers, but bis eyes were on the carpet, where they had been all the time.

I am sorry,' he continued, 'more sorry than I can tell you, that I have ever been the cause of annoyance to you, or have ever brought aught of sadness into your life, but you have beautiful days yet in store for you wherein these will be forgotten, and I hope you will

think

of me, if at all, as one who would rejoice in your happiness and be happy in your joy.'

He waited a moment, as if hoping she would say a word, but the tears were dropping from her eyes thick and fast, and her tongue refused to speak.

Finding that she did not intend to break tbe silence, he arose to take his departure, and then, for the first time, saw her tears. A wild, exulting light leaped into his face and eyes, but died away as soon again. 'Good-by, Kate,' he said, and he moved towards her.

Her answer was a sob. 'It is my lot,' he said, 'to bring your life unpleasant experiences, when my dearest wish would be to bring you joy. I shall never be a cloud on your horizon again, so once more, 'good-by.'

Sho turned ber face from him, and said between her sobs,

her but once, and then only

for a moment. The poor girl's nerve* underwent terrible strain that night, I called to help her.*

Heavens! Could be believe his own heart! Could it be possible that she loved him! His eyes filled with light and hope again, and with one step he was beside her.

4Kate,'

coming from death once more to life? Can you love me? Do you love me? Ask me to stay but once again! I am yours lor life or death if yeu love me. What shall it be, darling, will I go or stay?'

Don't go,' was all she said.

On The Trap.

I was only a clown, a painted, grinning clown, attached, on a small salary to a theatre in the capital of one of the little duohiesinto which Germany was divided beroretbe genius and ambition or Bismarck had effected its consolidation into the empire. My role was popular because everybody likes to laugb, and likes one who puts them in a laughing mood. My mnke-up was considered a marvel of perfection. My songs always took, and my gestures and grimaoes never failed to elicit the most rapturous applause. It used to be said that my faco must be made of In-dia-rubber, it could be twisted and distorted into sach strange expressions. But I hated tbe life, and my success made it more and morn distasteful.

One night 1 went home oompletely worn out in body and mind. My little sister Ada, fifteen years old, and light and graceful as sylph, who was engaged as a dansensR at the same theatre, also seemed dispirited and worn. The play had been running forty nights, and the whole oompany was heartily sick of it. But it was not this alone which exerted a depressing Influence on my spirits that evening. For manv weeks I bad been losing my heart to Fraulein Dora, the principal dansense or tbe theatre, who was no less lovely in mind and heart than 1n person. She was the most beantifui woman I had ever seen toll, well-formed graceful with a step like a fairy queen large, thoughtful eye*: and sweet, winning smile. What first drew me to her was her kindness to my sister, whom she took every opportunity to befriend and assist in her profession. This was the more surprising, because Ada promised to beoome a dangerous rival and, in the theatrical profession, jealousy is tbe rule, and generosity the exception. So I learned to like Dora, and then to love ber. But so did everybody else* Ail tbe gentry of the place fell in love with her, and raved aboat her beauty and her dancing. In a way that nearly drove me wild with jealousy. I was in love In the old ftmb toned way we read of In novels—I am not ashamed to confess it—eager to kiss the ground on which she trod, and would not believe that any one else could love and worship ber with the same devotion. I must not omit to say thai Dors In the midst of all this adulation, displayed the moat discreet and modest behavior. She was always attended, to aad from the theatre, by her mother and always returned the rich presents which were showered opon her.

Among *11 who paid court to Dora, I feared only one, the young, rich, handsome, and accomplished Count Eramt von Waiter*, who pre»ed his suit with unremitting ardor. What chance bad the poor clown against this man Yet I fancied If he were oaly oat of tbe way need »otdaafmlr of winning her. Did she cot fove my steer, aad had she no* oitea spoken kindly to me, and praisod my acting and singing? Bot this day

..m-. 1 liiTirrSi iiindwflBiiitiriMr

TEKKK-liAUTE SATURl.AY EVENING MAILf JANUARY 31. 18741

was driven to the

home of Kate Dallas, and as he sat 111 the parlor awaiting her appearance, his thin white lips seemed to move as if he were rehearsing his part.

I am glad to see you out again, Harry,' she said, as she came towards him, but though her voice was sprightly, her face wasfally as pale as his. 'Thank you, Kate, this is my first call but Dr. Brown consented to my ride to-day.'

from Dr. Brown only last

evening*' he went on, rs if determined to say at once what he had come to say, 'or what you consented to do for him during my sickness. I ought to thank you for, perhaps, saving my life. I do thank you heartily for all that you did, and all the more because I know it was a terrible task for you. He told me the complete history of his plan, and while I wish I had never been thought or, I cannot but see how great a sacrifice you made for me, and I thank you for it.'

She had covered her face witi ber bands as soon as he began, and still kept them there. He waited a moment as if to give ber an opportunity to speak but she remaiued silent.

I have come,' be resumed* 'not to thank you only, but also to say -Goodbye." She uncovered her face at this, and her eves filled with anxiety—he went on, 'In a few days I will leave Melville forever, but if—no matter where I am—the day shall ceme when I can be of help or assistance to you, yon will remember that I owe my life to you, and'—healmost broke down here —'all that I am or have will be at your service.'

don't want—

to drive you—from your—home.' Let that give you

110

pain,' he said,

tenderly 'I could not live here now,' But it is I who am driving you away,' she said. 'No, you must not take the blame, said he. 'I should never have supposed you could love me, but let that go now. Govd-byc.'

Don't go,' was her answer*

41must.

I could not stay and see you

the wife of some one else.' Don't go,' she repeated.

I had learned the worst—that ber kindness to me sprang only from a gentle and friendly feeling for the brother of tbe girl she had learned to loye like a sister, ana tbatahe had promised to become tbe wife of Count von Walters. What wonder that 1 went to my lodgings with despair in my heart!

My little sister exerted herself to make things cheerful in oar quiet sit-ting-room. She suspected nothing of the real cause of my downheartedness for she, my oonfidant in everything else, bad never oeen intrusted with tbe secret of my love for Dora and, in the hope of drawing me out of my moody silence, prattled on about a number of unimportant matters. Sbe was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of our landlady. The good soul apologized for coming in at so late an hour, but the postman bad brought a letter for me just after we bad left for tbe theatre, and as it. bore a foreign postmark, she thought it might be important I should get it that evening. I thanked her mechanically, but a glance at the post-mark caused me to tear the letter open with eager and trembling fingers fori had often heard my father speak of an only brother who had settled in England in early youth, and from whom vague reports came, from time to time, of a successful mercantile career. The letter wasijpost marked London, and the heavy black border lines told tbe story before the seal was broken. My uncle was dead. He bad never married, and on bis death-bed, remembering his only brother, he had left all his wealth to him or his children. For a moment I felt stunned and faint and Ada, throwing ber arms about my neck, begged me to tell her what bad news was in my letter to make me look so strange and pale. I took ber on my knee, and told her we'were rich, and would have no more need to act in the theatre. We would leave this miserable little town and go to Berlin.

To my surprise, Ada aigain put her arms about my neck, and whispered softly, 'Need we leave the theatre immediately, dear brother

No, child,' said I, wondering what she could mean 'but tell me why you should want to stay another day, when you can leave at onco and be free from this slavery?'

Because, dear brother,' she answered, hesitating and blushing, 'Fraulein Dora told me I was a great deal prettier than sbe was, and a better dancer and that I should have the first place in the new dance they are to put on the stage next weeic. Ob, I would like to have such a triumph once! It would be such a pleasant way to say good-by to tbe stage.'

I could deny her nothing, my little sister and though for me it was like going into tbe torture-room of the Inquisition to enter the theatre and see Count Ernest on such familiar terms with Dora, I consented for the present to conceal my good fortune from our friends, and go on just the same as if nothing had nappened.

The eventful evening came at length. The play was interspersed with balletdancing, and was to end with a grand transformation scene in which Ada and Dora were to rise as sea nymphs, in a shell-like car, from the waters of a mimio lake. It so happened that, jnat before the last scene, I went into the room underneath tbe stage, where the machinery for raising the car was placed impelled by a sUange foreboding of impending misfortune, to assure myself that everything was in order and that no precaution against accident bad been neglected. There I found the master machinist, a dark and gloomy visaged man, standing by the car, muttering to himself in an undertone. 'Better she should die than marry the count. He has bewitched ber, as be does all women. A little slit would—'

said he, 'am I

What are you muttering to yourself?'! asked him, suddenly and what do vou mean by these mysterious words

He faced me, as if struck by an unexpected blow.

was only examining the machinery to see that everything was right,' be answered, sullenly, and turned away.

I carefully examined the cords by which the car was raised. Everything appeared to be secure and in good order and I went back to my place trying to laugh myself out of uiy apprehensions. But though it was easy to argue that all was right, and that my fearsarose merely from some explicable disorder of the brain, I oould not feel secure. I was positive that some frightful misadvantage would oocur before the play was over and every nerve was strained in the effort to maintain a calm oxterior.

Tbe play progressed. The curtain rose upon the magnificent transformation scene and the plaudits of the audience grew tumultuous as the splendors unrolled before them. At length the car began to rise slowly and majestically, to low, sweet strains of music, I watched, with scarcely beating heart and bated breath, tbe first appearance of tbe beautifnl vision—for like a vision it looked, rising and 'still rising. tba ear resplendent with all the tinsel which shone like gold, and silver, and diamonds. A sound as of many tinkling fountains mingled with the strains of delicious maaic fairy-land seemed, opening upon the sight, with arohing bowers and far-reaching vistas, and myriads of elfin forms disporting on the ground and in the air. For a moment

was fascinated, when Ada and Dora, in all their boauty, rose above tbe lake, their stately car seemingly lifted bv invisible band*. I forgot my apprehensions, and once more breathed freely.

Suddenly there was a dreadful crash, and a wild cry filled tbe house. The car had fallen. For an instant, I felt rooted to the spot where I was standing, and then recovering my senses, rushed forward to learn the worst. As I made my way through the narrow passage under the stage, I heard some one sav in a pitying tone: Poor thing,she will never danoe again!' Which was it? Ada? Dora? I fought my way through tbe crowd of actors and attendant*,and saw my little Ada lying senseless in Dora's arms. Throwing myself on my knees, I took her cold hands In both of mine.

My dear friend,' said Don, who was weeping silently, *ahe is not dead, though dreadfully hurt. The aurgeon will be here directly. Compose yoor«*3f. She to reviving!'

My little darling opened ber eyes, with a deep sigh, and looked aboat her with a bewildered gass.

Hash, little one? ssld Dors, softly, as she saw Ad* was aboat to speak. 'Lie still and be patient tiil tbe surgeon comes.'

Dora gave him a quiek look of re-

Jng,'

troof. This is no time for love-mak-she answered, withdrawing her hand. 'Have yoa no fseiing for the poor girl lying here, whose whole life must he one of misery and sorrow?*

What is this ballet girl to me answered the count, stung to. tbe quick, and for a moment thrown off his guard. 'Of oourse, I am sorry for her,' be added the next moment, 'but—'

At this moment Ada opened her eyes again, and a faint blush strugjtled with tbe paleness in her cheeks, as ber gase fell upon tbe count. A beautifnl smile played on her trembling lips, and 8he reached ber hand toward him. 'Oh, my love,' she said in a low whisper—a whisper which first sent the blood mantling into Dora's face and then left it paler than snow—'you are near and I—'

Something in the count's face stopped her words. The girl is wandering,' he said

41shall

00Id

ly, 'She does not know what she is saying.' She had fainted again. 'Go count,' said Dora, hastily. 'Your presence is not wanted here.' Her manner was de cidedand even imperious and the count did not venture to disobey but as be left he cast upon Ada a look which caught the other's eye, and from the ex pression that came into her face I knew —knew even then, that be would never more bold a place in ber heart.

We carried Ada home, anc^ through the long illness which followed, Dora was her constant nurse and cbmpanion. To this dear friend was confided with many tears the secret of her heart. The count had won her love, and had promised to ask my conscnt to their union. Unsuspecting and eonfiding, she knew nothing of his attentions to Dora, an4 it was by his wish that she had never mentioned his uame to me. I heard afterward, that he and Dora met but once after the accident, and that he endeavored to defend bis per fidy on the plea that he was only amusing himself with Ada, and never bad seriously thought of makinit her his wife. 'So muoh the worse for you, count,' said the true-hearted woman.

never be your wife, and never

want to see your face again.' We are married now, Dora and I. From loving Ada she learned in time to love me, and the sweet and gentle invalid, who never again will walk until she steps upon the heavenly phore, is happy in our love. No murmur ever escapes her lips. Her sweet face is never clouded. Since Dora learned ber sad story, the count's name has never passed my sister's lips, nor has she in anj' way alluded to him But Dora found her one day weeping silently over a picture which she put away without its being seen.

I have not told how the acoident happened. The master machinist, himself in love with Dora, had cut several strands of the cord by whioh the car was secured. He openly avowed his crime, and only regretted that Dora bad not been killed. 'She rejected me with scorn,' he said, on his trial.

was resolved she should never give her hand to another.' He was manifestly a maniac. I can never forgive myself for not watching him more olosely after that encounter under the stage.

fSt. Loo is Democrat.] A PUZZLING CASE.

Matty St. Louis people will remember the monstrosity that was on exbibitiou here a fow years ago, under the capti vating title of'The Two-headed Nightingale.' Evidently intended for twins, the pair, of which this curiosity is constrted, are ioiaed together back to back, so that both appear at the first glance to be a two-headed woman. One of them, Christine, glories in a tolerable soprano voice, while the other head, called Millie, emits a deep contralto. Their voices did not exactly fill Mercantile Library Hall, when they were here, hut combined with the uniqueness of their appearance, the twins drew a pretty large crowd. Tbe most singular part of their performance was their dancing, and as their limbs wore almost bound to move in time together, it was'executed with comparative grace.

Well, these two young ladies bavo recently been the sensation of Paris, and tbe latest piece of news about thom is an almost incredible storv, a tale of romance and horror that Wilkie Collins ought by all means to use in tbe plot of his next novel.

It appears that an Englishman—no one but an Englishman would be guilty of such an eccentricity—fell desperately in love with the part of this freak of nature tbat is called Christine, tbe part that has the soprano voice, be it understood. With her part of tbe double body she returned tbe Englishman's love with all the ardor of a first pasdion, but unhappily tbe other siae of tbe body, the party of the other part, so to speak, felt jnst the reverse—as might have been expected. Tbls, indeed, seems to be the general disposition of the* other side, called Millie: for whenever Christine catches a cold and begins to sneeze, Millie begins to scold furiously. Whenever Christine has a ravenous appetite, as she generally has, and wants to stay an hour or two at the dinner table. Millie is sure to have no appetite at all, and wants to hurry away. In short, Milllo is, In every sense of tbe word, the opposite of her sister, and It Is not surprising that she took a violent dislike to tbe Englishman who fell in love with tbe party of tbe first part, called Christine. But an Englishman—particularly one of Scottish descent, as tbe young lord waa—is a pretty tough ana obstinate fellow, and not easily repulsed especialwhen in love. Accordingly tbeyouthful lord in question persevered in truly lordly style. Whenever he ordered a punch for Christine, be was certain to hand to Millie a glass of soda-water. If to the one he gave an appie.the other was mollified by a lemon. Tbe result of these untiring tactics was that tbe English lord finally won a gloomy consent on the part of Millie to his marriage with the soprano part of tbe performance. And thus Is happened that the lord of something-or-anotber was solemnly married to that part of the body called Christine, to distinguish it from the other part that which was called Millie. There was much glorification at the wedding bat tot as draw the curtain over subsequent events, until the break of tbe next morning. Then Christine np to find In her arms a husband—dead, with his throat cut. The kuife that pat so end to bis existence was immediately identified as belonging to Millie,and to Imprison one

Tb# eentl* sufferer, dosed hereyesJof thettsteffstbeoffloereofthelaw were and her little bands pressed mine wiih compelled to arreet the whole aw#a tender grssp. Tbe saigeoa was soon rstrasity* os the spot. He Assured me that Ada The question tbat sow ponies tbe had attstained no fatal injarv, bat it legal tslnd of Franco la thte: If the was doabtful whether sbe would be able part of the body estUed Millie Is con to walk again. With a plteoas cry, she' vinted of the murder of baaing killed feil back la Dora's arms, and fainted the husband of Christine—who is tbe dead awsy. other part of tbe body—bow shall the

I had noticed no one hat Ad* and sentence of death be executed upon Dent, bat at this moment I was con-! her If she dies, her Innocent sister sokHH that tbe eoant wss kneeling be- dies. The speculative philosophers of aide me, aad had clasped Dora's band. the whole world are invited to send

Rotter she thau yoa,tay love,' be mar-1 in propositions for the solution of tbe

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A TALK ABOUTSLMJSP. I once asked my little boy what tho word sleep meant, and he answered: "It means to go to bod and stop thinking all night." This will do well for a boy's definition. I doubt if Webster's is much better. Let os see. He says sleep means "to take rest by the suspensions of the powers of the body and mind." Well, you oan take your choice of definitions. One thing ia very certain, if we did not sleep we should soon die. To be kept awake all the time wonld be a terrible punishment. How mean one feels after being kept awako all night! Young folks rarely keep awake all night, but older ones do, Indeed it is very hard work for a child, or a boy or girl, to lie awake long after going to bed. I once offered to buy a Beautiful pony for a bov if he would lie awake all night. £fe was sure he could do it. I knew I was perfectly safe. He went to bed. Next morning I asked him bow long he kept awake. 44

Oh!" says he, "I never knew when 1 went to sleep." "Very likelv," says I. "I never knew anybody tbat did. 1 have been to sleep several thousand times, but the iastant I was never conscious of. Sleep comes on so stealthily. Little by little it steals away our senses, and we know no more thau if we were dead. While sleeping, what do you suppose goes on in the body? The blood circulates just as if we were awake, only not quite so fast. The heart keeps pumping away for doar life all the while. If it should so to sleep too, we should probably never wake up again. Tbe heart nev?r sleeps. The blood must go on its rounds whon we are unconscious, to carry good things to different parts of the body, so tbat any little injury or wearing out that was done In the active hours of the day can be repaired. In sleep the body is repaired, and stores up power for the next day's work. You know when the water is tow in the dam the mill will not go but let it be idle awhile and the water accumulates and turns the wheel again. During sleep we forget all our naughty ways and if we wako up right in the morning, we are, or ought to be, cheerful and happy—at least as soon as we are washed and combed and ready for breakfast. Children who wake up cross in tho morning must have something wrong about them—either worms or a depressed state of the nerves.

The brain ih sleep is not so full of blood as when awake. If it were, It would keep on thinking all the same. The veins seem to have power to contract their walls in sleep and drive tho blood out, and then the heart does not send so much there—at least this is my opinion, though people may differ about it.

Sometimes wo dream In sleep but healthy children do not dreaui much. When there is a little too much blood in tbe brain It begins to act as if awako, and for a moment or two, or a part of it, begins to act in a conscious and sometimes in a very queer way. Dreams however, are not ot long duration. Two or three minutes Is long enough to dream of going around the world. I suppose most dreams last but a fow seconds. I have beard people say they have dreamed all night long. Such persons are deceived or if they dream all night they have a hard time of it.

Children need to sleep a great deal. For this reason they should go to bed early. Don't be tempted by any thoughtless, naughty person to stay out late of nights but go to bed early so tbat you can get up early. Tbls Is all I have to say in this lesson.—[ Herald of Health.

A FEMALE SOLDIER.

The military annals of most European countries, says the London Echo, record a few instances ot women who, having succeeded in ontering the ranks cf the army, have highly distinguished themselves

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tbe apparently Incongru

ous profession of arms. Such a fact has, however, according to, tbe Opinion, been hitherto unprecedented In tho Italian army. It was discovered, however, tbe other day, tbat a young soldier named Marcotti, who was to receive his discharge on the 1st of next month, having enlisted in 1866, is one of these heroines. Julia Marcotti, the Amazon in question, belonged to a numerous and poor family, living at San Ambrozia, near Torm.and worked in tbe mines of Upper Piedmont, to which latter circumstances her extraordinary physical strength may, probably, be attributed. She enlisted iu 1865, at tbe time when Italy was about4 to engage in the struggle with Austria, her motives being to save her brother who was married and bad six children, from being obliged to serve. Not only did Julia perform all a soldier's duties as well as her comrades, but sbe fought* „, in tbe first rank at tbe battle of Cu»tozza and obtained tbe medal of military valor. On bearing of the case, King Victor Emanuel sent for tbe woman, *'. bestowed upon her ^he Crosa of theOrder of the Crown, and desired that she

should be sent home with a pension of 809.11 re.

TAXES FOB 1878. Notice i» hereby givn that tbf Tax Dafriicmf for the year 1873. sow in my handi, aad that I am ready to receive the taxed thereon charged. The following table thowa the rate of taxation on ea«h one hundred dollars worth 0! u*»ble property. RATB or TAXES FOBTHKIBAE XS73.

Lo«t Criek ... Kevist Ottter Creek Ifcifesr:

1121 1 (X)

15iW'« 1695 1«36

erre llaate... arrUon.... Hooey Om

ill

101 1 21

1010 11« 10*10! 1 11 1"!10! 1 «i 15 25 1

S To W Mr

leaving the y«ar pro tlwyotrn Taxea are

for

Iditional

every Female. 12,00: fer every roe be office and see thai

•ine year receipt before and aee that it oover* all taxed fer what of each year. of December.

idsaoa the l&th any

xaxe* are sh ob we u« ««y«( asd taxpayers may pay fall amount of iseh taxes on or before the third Monday In

irt^fenJayio •halt on orhe-

id v0 D9 )9v0 U*#

of Normber,~ ia~tg'aiaase* yreeerthed fey

a* vnriMkfUw. SjMAbthe teaoroftl»#

rmr. Dent wait aatil the iatttwew

piSl every ye« RGTTMAjpf, Dee. 1S.1S7S. Treasurer Vise Cessty.