Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 7, Number 40, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 March 1877 — Page 6

THE MAIL:

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

DEA TWS BL UNDER.

5ita my HELE9 AKGELL GOODWIN".

The earven doors were open, Tbe sexton tolled the bell, And the light from gothlc windows

Like shattered ralubows fell, As

through the porch of a Bglendjd_chureh Crept lfttle beggar Nell. *i7m Low shrinking, in the shadows

Beside the pulpit stair, tiM She saw a little casket 4^ Brought to the house of prayer/ And a sorrowing band ot the rich and grand

Gather in silence there,

Bhe

heard the mournful music: Hhe heard the preacher say: TTT "The Lord, who gave your treasure, *f

Hath taken her away. Be sure my friends, tor the wisest ends God worketh. Let us pray.

A ragged child itole forward While every head was bowedJ Through fragrant BUOW white flowers

She mw a snow white shroudAnd golden hair and a face most ralif And she knelt and wept aloud,

Forth from among the mourners Came the father of the dead, He raised the little beggar,

And wondcringly said: What strange child weeps for her who sleeps With lnlos round her head

Why, Death made a blunder 'Twos mo Uod meant!" she ci ied. I asked Him, for there's no one ', To grieve I had died And there seems to be 10 room for me,

Though they say toe world is wide.

Nay Death hath made 0 blunder Uod melius my heart shall be Made sore enough by sorrow

To leel forone like thee It is His will that thou should st fll Her place, child. Come with me.

Now many friendless orphans By him are clothed and led, In soothing other's sorrow

His own is comforted And Christ the Lord, as his reward, Shall yet give back his dead.

nisi it. is you

who

&

1

The Two Orphans.

BY It. AKTHUIl GIIATTAN.

CHAPTER XIV.

MISFORTUNES COME NOT SINGLY.

Shocked beyond measure, Estella naturally felt at this rocital and she almost loathed the unhappy being whose violent passions had led her to such evil results.

Yet the could not see her gasping tor breath and faint with the effort of this confession without compassionating her

By every kind attention she sought to soothe ami restore ti*r. Tell me no more." she said. "I nave •hoard enough to wring my heart! Think now pf yourself, and of Him wha can -alone speak peace and pardon." "Let me finish I have not much more to say now. I have fulfilled his dying request—it was all I could do for him now—and brought his children t# Amer-

mother. ... ,, With a wild shriek, she raised herself, and invoked some invisible being. "Hence, evil spirit, that wears the semblance Inez, and comes hither to madden me! I have made what atonemont I could! Hpoak to her, Lstella!" And she clung to the girl with imploring looks. "Speak to your dead mother, aod tell her that, to render her children rich, to rescue them from poverty and dependence on the caprice of others, I have undorgone innumerable prlvatious! Tell her that, lor them, I have forgotton pride of birth, and lived a life of Unolinessand ceaseless penauce until the traders to whom I iutrusted my wealth prospered beyond my hopes —and alt, nil is for the child who first laid ii. her anus—her first born child, hor little I-t«lla!"

Be calm," said Kstellfl. "There is 110 a hdPA l\nf. nnrftftl

one here but ourselves. "I tell you, yes she is there still! I not see her reproaching (ace? seo!"

Cau See

Sho raised herself on her knees, and wildly extended her arms with a repelling gesture. "Come not nearer! 1 can not endure yvn-awfo! pre: t-iut! l'-trH *, iiotr* mo -save me! She waits to clasp me in her death Iv embrace! N ay. 1 ne/., let me live a little* longer. I will make ample reparation!"

She then thrust her hand beneath her pillow, and produced a packet of

Pa"Take

them, Kstella—take them! For

they are yours*—vour* ntwnlit oually! Look, Inez, oh! "look ve enriched your daughter: 1 have doubled—nay trebled her portion! And are you not satisfied? "Ah." he added, with ga?plng sigh, "is it not enough? She claims me still— fdio bids me He down befiide her in that oold grave these e.rirtl hands dug for her youth and happiness! Alas! she will not. Oh, mercy!"

Slowly and painfully she dragged herself irom the pallet, and crouched in a distant comer, in spite of Estella endeavors to soothe and convince her that this was merely a phantom of the brain.

There is surely no one here, said the young girl a^ain, now trembling violently 'for evening was setting in, and Maiame's adjuration* were terrible to bear. "She is there—she comes nearer!" moaned out the miserable woman. "She seizes me Ah!"

Losing ber self command, Estella rushed from the roam. She could remain alone no louger. She must seek some one to share her watch by the horrors of that dying bed.

Kre her foot had passed th* fcrst stair, a heavv fall was heard followed by deep silence! and she clung to th- balustrade taintly catling lor help, and powerless to proceed.

nr

with him, but went in alone*

Jjtuifcii v*

ms TEHRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING, MAJX-n

After short interval, he returned, looking very grave. "It is all over, Miss Vaughn, and I think you had better let me lake you to tbe good woman below, while I fetch a hack. There Is nothing to keep you here now."

Bat she insisted on remaining there until all arrangements were made for the decent interment of her erring relative. "She was my naotner's ceusin," she' said, in reply to George's questioning look. "She has suffered nmch in a mistaken idea tfaatihns she could atone for the misdeeds of her early life and I owe mere to her than you are aware of for Amy and I have to thank her for the thorough education we received at Miss Dickson's."

The papers which Madame had forced upon ber were now hidden beneath her mantle, bat of these she made no mention.

Madame, if not actually insane, was scarcely to be designated as a rational being and Est el la dared not, until she bad examined tbe packet, busy herself with the hopes that she was indeed tbe heiress of a considerable sum of money.

George stood for a few seconds undecided. Something seemed to be weighing on bis mind but his companion was too tired and preoccupied to notice that. The mechanic's wife cheerfully welcomed the young lady to her sittingroom, and went in search of a person to perform the necessary offices for the dead

Her offer of a cup of tea she was pouring out for her husband was thankfully accepted.

Estella was now beginning to feel the effects of the extreme fatigue and excitement she had undergone.

George Barnard, who was restlessly walking from window to door, or drumming on the table with his fingers seerfled quite relieved when she folded her mantle around her, and said she was ready to depart.

Remunerating the good natured woman for her trouble, and promising to come again on the day that had been hastily appointed for the funeral, Estella took the arm George was impatiently tendering, and quitted the house. They reached the depot before either of them spoke, for Miss Vaughan was far too weary to make any elforts atconver sat ion.

But as they waited on the platform for tbe train which was to carry tbem onward, Estella, with a feeling of selfreproach that she had not wade the inquiry earlier, suddenly asked, "Hew did you leave my sister?" "She was very well," was the curt answer. "And you satisfied her on my account? She was not very uneasy?" "Not about you."

Estella gazed at him in surprise, and now first noticed his serious, troubled looks. "What do you mean? How strangely you said those few words!"

He hesitated. "Miss Amy may have other anxieties which make her think less about your absence."

Amy—Anxieties! I cannot comprehend! George, is there anything amiss at Aston

His reply was quite low but very distinct. "I am sorry to say that there is, Miss Vaughan."

•'Here my convictions of his treacherous nature revived lor in the cousin Mrs. Aston, to whose care you were bequeathed, I then beheld tbe original of the miniature—the 'Sophia' of the letters! "Impossible!" cried the incredulous tWCen the young man and his step-fath-Estella. "Our kind aunt, as we have

She took hold of. his arm with a taling face, and faltered the name of lionei.

Her first supposition was that some fearfu! quarrel had taken place be

er an(j

always called her, never felt more than 111-: .... ...» lulhar Of that a* sisterly liking tor my lather. Of that I am conyinced." "Am I to pit your assertions against the evidouce of uiy own eyes?" asked Madame, severely. "Hut why interrupt me? It matters not what y»u think or suppose. The discovery madome determine to return to my convent, and renounce the word forever. "lint I dreamed—ah! I have dreamed that terrible dream s® often!—that Inez, in her grave clothes, stood before me, wringing her band9, and wailing, 'My uuc children—my darlings! Oh, cruel Anto- dangerous."

that he had been driven from

But George very quickly undeceived her. "There is nothing the matter with Lionel except that he is in great distress of mind." "But, why! Oh, tell me at once!"

Well, then," George answered her with an effort, "you must prepare yourself to find a mourning household at Aston. Mrs. Barnard was suddenly seized with a most severe illness last night." ••But not dangerous—oh, George, not

have robbed them of a Ho averted his head hut not before she saw that tears were standing .in bin

eyes. Her fears now took another direction. "Notdead, George—oh, say she is not dead! Our kind, gentle friend—our second mother!" "Not dead, Estella, whgn I left Aston, but, I fear me—dying!"

This was too much. Fresh from one deathbed only to hurry to another! For awhile she stood like one stunned. Then, as the puffing of the train was heard, an eager desire to hurry to the Ilall took possession of ber.

Oh, why, why had shebeen away just when her presence might have been to Mrs. Barnard—to Amy—and yet more to the grieviug Lionel—so fraught with comfort!

George banded her into a carriage as soon as the train stopped. She asked no particulars. To reach Aston—and to learn for hers*If the reality of the unlookeU-fbr trial, was but hor sole thought.

How loug the .iaurney seemed! how toilsome and frequent the stoppages but at last tbe railway carriage was ex(JUnged for Mr. luipps'gig, George Human! was driving at a sharp pace toward Aston. "Hark!" he said, suddenly drawing reinasthev neared the Hall.

Estella listened, then cowered down, thoroughly overcome. From the village church slowly pealed out the passing bell. ,, "No, no!" she cried, with suddenly reviving hope, "it may not be for her Why do you linger? She will live—live for the sake of poor Lionel!"

George whipped on his horse without repl% and in another five minutes they had bowled up the avenue, and reached tho door of tbe house.

A servant opened it immediately, and on feeing Estella's white, eager face, she burst into tears. "Oh, raUs-oh matter George, it's all, all over!" mr*

CHAPTER XV.

RSTKIXA'S DISAPPOINTMENT. ra. Jiarnard had died as she had tlved—witbout a complaint, and without a struggle.

Wo mav xlso add, with bat little suffering: for insensibility set in soon after the seizure sccUrred, and so quietly did life pass away, that those who stood beside her knew not the exact moment of its flight.

From Amy, who humed to mart bar sister, Estella learned that Mrs. Barnard bad had along conference with her son, on the morning succeeding the

was with her during the remainder of the d: she was quenily, —.

•oceed reserve, of the unhapplnesa of her marA familiar voice replied. Jt was George ried life, and hsr anxieties on Leo ac-

^le had Just returned, r.ivl was hasten- "But Leo and I,*'she continued, "sat intr to Madame'* r'rimb» 1. j-witb her in her dressing room a couple lie would not t* mlt h»»rt6 reenter it ot honrsalter Mr. Barnard went to bed land we left her, as we fondly fancied

^JLL: j4

:u A

r*

lis

quit* cheered by onr proneetlcatlon* Ah, Eatella, she will never blew ua again, as she did then, ere she sent as gmJD

When iany had dried tbe tears this recollection evoked, ahe related how Mr Barnard, in unfeigned alarm at his wife's, sufferings, had aroused the servants during the night.

With an excess of care—we may not call it affection—that anprised every one, be had also telegraphed to tbe city, at dawn, for one of onr ablest physicians. ,.

But no skill could avert the divine decree and the gentle Sophia Aston's earthly probation was ended.

Estella, whose grief, though hidden, was both deep and violent, felt astonished and gratified at the self-command evinced by Lionel.

Although evidently mourning his mother's decease most acutely, he behaved with a manly fortitude -and thoughtful consideration for the feelings of others, which impressed even Mr. Barnard—for a time.

Thesame day that Mrs. Barnard was laid in the costly vault of the Aston family, in the presence of a concourse of friends and neighbors, Antonia di Cordova, commonly known as Madame le Bas, was qnletly, but respectfully* interred in tbe city cemetery.

And now a dull gloom settled on Aston Hall. A maiden sister of Mr. Barnard's—a shrewish dame, as unamiable as her brother—came to take the management of his domestic affairs.

That gentleman, shut up in his study all day long, calculating hia expenses, or searched dusty papers and old letters for the strangely lost title deed of the California property, solacing himself, for repeated dlsappoin ments, with long draughts of brandy and water.

George came to the hall no more. Within a day or two after hi3 wile's funeral, Mr. Barnard had attempted to discuss, with bis son, the wisdom of marrying Amy Vaughan at once. id wa* totally unprepared for any opposition. George had so frequently—for pease's sake—yielded his own will, that rils father dictated to him now, fully expecting the same result.

Their interview ended in Mr. Barnard flying into a violent passion. "Dolt! blockhead!" he vociferated "what can you be dreaming about? Forty thousand dollars, and a really good looking girl, to be had for the asking, and you actually tell me you can't think of such a thing!" "I'm sorry to put you out of temper, sir," George began. "I'm not out of temper. What do you mean by such an insinuation? At least

not more

put out than any man would

be who sees his only son throwing awav such an excellent opportunity. Think what you might do with $40,000!" "I need not waste my time in such foolish fancies for, to be plain vith you, father, Amy Vaughan would not have me if I aske^ her." "How do you know till you try, eh

George was not ready with a reply, so beputnls hands in his pockets, and whistled. .. "You may set that objection qu»»e aside," said the father, with a grim smile. "Amy Vaughan must marry as I please, or forfeit ner fortune and I shall not give my consent to her marryinz any one put you "Think better of it, sir,"' said George, his face clouding, "and take my answer once for all. If I'm never a richer man than I am now, I'll not marry for the sake of money! I daresay I'm a dolt and a blockhead, as you style me, but I've got a little self-respect, and I mean to keep it!" .... Before Mr. Barnard could say no more, George had disappeared and, from this h^ur, he carefully avoided the Hall.

It was many days after Sirs. Barnard a death before Estella could summon up resolution to examine the papers she had received from Madame le Bas, as we will still call her.

Unnerved by the agitating scenes trough which she had passed, she c) -eaded more than she hoped from what :iis packet might contain.

If all were well—if its contents insured her even a moderate competency—ah, then life would brighten anew, both for her and Lionel!

But if not—she locked her hands together, and shuddered—then the Hall would be her home no longer for to live entirely on Amy's small income she could not, and would not.

And Lionel, deprived as he was of his inheritance through his mother's weak depeudance on Mr. Barnard's promises, what was he about to do ?.

He had already dropped hints of leaving the neighborhood of Aston—hints which his step-father heard with undisguised satisfaction. "If they could but be together!" Estella whispered to herself.

Then blushingly looked round, as if fearing that even 'the lifeless pictures on the walls would hear her, and repeat the sweet secretalie hi 4 in her heart.

Locking the door of her chamber one rainy afternoon, on which she had been tor some time sitting there alone, she determined to couquer her reluotance, and examine the packet.

Her fingers trembled with impatienoe as she lore open the wrappor. Was she doomed to disappointment?"

H«pe answered, "No, assuredly no but tbe heterogeneous mass which presented Itself looked very unprotnish tog-

There were scraps of newspapers, re cipes and bankers' receipts, mingled with old letters and copies of verses.

Laving aside a small case, which she recognized as the one containing the diamond bracelet with which tho lonely Antonia once sought to lure her from Amy and Aston, Estelli selected the most promising looking of the papers.

It was thus indorsed in tho writing of Madame: "I bad this from an illiterate woman, whose address I snbjoln. It may be useful If the man Barnard proves troublesome.''

This was enough to arouse Estella's cariosity, and she opened it. The contents were written at the dictation af the unfortunate young lady, Laura Everleigh, Mr. Barnard's first wile, and the mother of George.

For the sake of an ample dowry, she had.

been

and her employer was liberal, held her peaoe,and, putting the papers away, thought no more of them nnnl ahe gave them to Madame le Bas. in mistake for the recipe of some infallible ongnent.

Estella'a cheek blanched as ahe read. Her destination of Mr. Barnard now increased ten-fold ahe secured the papers in her deak, repeating Madame le Baa' worda, "Theee may be useful yet."

Another careful examination of the letters, and now her queat was successful. she held in her hand the will of Antonia di Cordova.

Drawn up by a legal gentleman of high standing, without a loophole for litigation, it put her in full and immediate possession of a sum that dazzled her.

Estella clssped ber hands in rapture. No more submission to insults, and taunts leveled at her poverty! No more nights passed in vain yearning for those advantages which riches alone can afford No more tears for Lionel's unjust deprivation of his rights!

What mattered Aston Hall, and tbe income accruing from the estate, now that Estella could bestow upon him more—much more than that was worth! "Ah, If he would but ask me to share his struggles, she murmured. "What bliss to be his, and give him, with my hand, all else that would make him happy!"

And Amy—dear little generous Amy, who had.sopertinscious!y insisted upon dividing her Income with ber sister— what coul 4 Estella do for her that would sufficientlyitestify the depth ol her grateful affection

Hastily, but securely, putting everything away but tbe precious testament, she resolved to seek her sister at once, and astonish her with the delightful tidings.

It would be more unsuspected and surprising, because Amy, having once been told that Madame le Bas was dead, and that she was only a distant relation, had thought no more of the subject.

Indeed, she had, since Mr. Barnard's death, rather avoided the society of ber sister, preferring to sit by herself in the summer parlor where they had spent so many pleasant hours.

There, often weeping for that: dear friend, whose tender leve bad been lavished upon her, or, with her work in her lap, gazing abstractedly from the window, she might generally be tound.

And there her sister now went with the bounding step of joy, to seek her. But she was not alone. Low and whispering voices struok upon Estella's ear, as she gentiy opened the door.

Slipping the will into the pocket of her uress, she looked in, disappointed that her revelation must be postponed.

But that oue quick glance toward the window made her grasp at something for support, and stand there motionless as a marble statue.

Ii was Lionel Aston who was Amy's companion. It was on Lionel's shoulder that her head rested, on his broad palm that her slender fingers were clasped.

And it was the deep, tender tones of Lionel's voice that spoke, with playful chi ling: "Not yet? Ob, foolish darling mine! must I take tbe initiative, and tell our sister myself?" "N", dear—no!" Amy replied. "It is from me that she ought to hear it. But I am as foolish as you call .me every time I approach ber, and think to put my arms around her neck and whisper our engagement, my courage fails, and I can not find words for the confession." "But do you not /ear. Estella! Think how fond, how forbearing, she has al ways been, dearest Amy!" "I do—I do, Lionel! I should be ungrateful, indeed, if I ever forget it! But ao you knew that it seems like wronging my faithful friend of so many years to love another—even though that other is you, Leo—better than 1 have done her "Estella will not think so, darling! She knows that to look at you is to idol­

ize you

wooed and wedded. And,

when an unsuccessful speculation bad dissipated this mcnay.hercovetot a husband abused and ill-created her—on more than one occasion openly wishing for her death.

Not long afterward she expired at an obscure country place, where h& was hiding from his creditors, and not Without grave suspicions of foul play.

Whether Mr. Barnard was guilty or innocent, it is impossible to aay but certainly tbe wrong mcdicino was administered to the unhappy lady by her attendant, aqd her decease speedily ensued.

But eie she expired, possibly to shield the woman from any evil consequences, Mrs, Barnard privately dictated and signified a declaration, to the effect that tbe position of the bottles was changed by her husband himself that afternoon, when he thought she was sleeping.

Of the existence of this evidence Mr. Barnard knew nothing. He contrived to hush up the affair, without tbe publicity of an inquest and tbe nurse, as her conduct not caJed into quest!an,

A

and, Amy, remember that our

first hours of plighted troth were blessed by my sainted mother." A sob burst from Amy's lips. "Ah, yes! How often, as I sit quietly here, do my thoughts revert to that day and. with painful distinctness, every trifling circumstance passes before me."

Lionel sighed dooply, and pressed a kiss upon the brow of his oetrothed. "How pleased she was," continued Amy, pensively "when you put me In her arms and told her that we had just discovered that we could not live without each other, and yet she was surprised, Leo!" "Not much, I fancy!" he replied with a fond smile. "Ah, but she waa!" Amy persitsed.* "Sheadmitted to m-, as we sat together in the evening, talking about you, that she had always fancied Estella would be your choice." "Nay, darling, you misunderstood her. My beloved mother must have seen that my affection for Estella is of a different character altogether. I admire—I revere her. It is to that dear sister of ours I shall go for advice—for the glowing words that rouse me to action but to you, Amy—my sweet, my gentle pet—I come for love!"

Eitella could hear no more. Stung to madness, she was rushing wildly forward to separate them, when strong hands drew her back, and closed the •doorso swiftly and noiselessly that the absorbed couple within were not disturbed.

It. was George Barnard. He had come to the bouse purposely to speak with her, acd he had stood there, unnoticed, long enough to know what was passing. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

CURE FOR BARBAROUS HUSBANDS. A woman who had suffered barbarous beatings from her husband, went to a noted wise man of the village to inquire how she might cure these paroxysms of violence. The soothsayer heard her complaint and after pronouncing some hard words and using various gesticulations while he filled a phial with a mysterious mixture, desired her, whenever her husband was in a passion, to take a mouthful of the liquor, and keep it in her mouth Jor five minutes. Tbe woman, quite ovetjoyed at so simple a remedy, strictly followed the counsel which was given her, and escaped the usual chastisement. Tbe contents of the bottle being at last expended, she returned to the wise man, and anxiously begged to have afresh supply of the same liquid. "You foolish woman," said tbe soothsayer, "there was nothing in the bottle but brown sugar and water. When your husband is in a passion, hold your tongue, and, my life for itj he will not lay a finger upon you."

CHILDREN. ^r^

It was remarked by dcero, when speaking of the early period at which children commence talking, that tney s«em to recall a language which they had learned in another world. Providence appears to develop this precious intelligence in theja, iu order that these tender and diminutive beings may make early advances In knowledge, and compensate by their drollery, their companionship and arauneiiient, for the cares and responsibilitiesinfaaoy demands.

BRIDAL COUPLES.

A PhUotopkital Ditqmsitiouon a Matter .. of Memnera. (Hew York World 1

It is mcommon thing to see a yoting couple in a railroad car, sitting aa the poet says: "wrapped in their atmos pbere," and regard leea of the rest of the passengers. They are surrounded!^ a score of traveling bags, bundlea and valisee. They have cake and cold fehieken laid away in their baskets, and fruithidden in most of their many packages. They are point-device in all their accoutrements for a journey. Their clothes are new and fit them exquisitely. They are attentive to each other's wants, point out attractive views in the hurrying panorama of the country through which the train is flying, smile at each other with a sort of benign satisfaction, and venture upon various innocent endearments in the face ot a busy public which they have only been accustomed to indulge in when alone in a pleasant parlor with the gas turned low, and the old folks gone to bed. He slides his arm around her waist with the easy confidence of ownership, and she rests her head upon his shoulder with the charming affection of dependence. Everybody recognizes the bride and bridegroom on their wedding journey, and their fellow passengers watch them with amused interest. Some with a sneer think of the days to come when the honey moon has drawn to a close and tbe mother-in-law drops in for her first long visit, rebuilding to tbe sound of the rythmical car wheels tbe pleasantest visions that time has left thorn, and memories of light and life and love in youth's sweet prime," rise like an exhalation in tbe brain. Metaphorically speaking the scent of orailge blossoms in the car spreads an aroma of romance abroad. While watching auch a newly wedded pair, we have often thought that mqch could be said against the good feeling as well as the good taste of ostentatioua display which they make of their happiness. Tbe exhibition costs some people a great deal of pain, An old bachelor grunts audibly as he catches sight of a gentle caress, drops back in his seat, covers himself with a newspaper and ponders, while be slowly loses the thread of Mr. Evart's long sentences, hew any woniau ean be spoeny on such a common-looking dandy. He bitterly determines that if a wedding trip be tbe penalty of matrimony, he Is safe forever. A young fellow who has just got an ill-tempered note from his girl demanding all her letters back, ga zes at happiness through a stranger's eyes, wipes the coal dust out ot bis own, and steps out at the next station to take several more fingers of whisky than is good for him. A stern parent whose daughter has just run away with the coachman, considers with disgust the wanner in which some other man's daughter is bebaviug herself, and resolves that Solomon's opinion about the rod is tbe choicest tot of ripture. A solemn gentleman wWh crape on his hat gazes at tbe young couple, blows his nose fiercely with a red bandana baudkerchief, sighs for the sake of the mother of his children, laid on an earthen pillow six feet below a green coverlid, and wishes for a sudden railroad accident that might make the bride a widow. In fact the afflictions that might flow indirectly from the parade of wedded bliss5, are such that all considerate couples on their wedding journey should be cautious in the bestowal of their endearments for the sake of their traveling companions. Of course, all sensible fellow travellers will, on the other hand, be tolerant of tbe manifestation ofyoutbful and demonstrative affection. But we maintain, and the point of this article lies here, that exbioitions of devotion in publio should be confined exclusively to brides and bridegrooms. What can be forgiven in them is intolerable in others. This matter is not well understood among the travellers who patronize tue Third avenue cars in this city in the evening, or else tbe line Irom the city hall to

Harlem is the most frequented wedding route in the United States.

A MOTHER'S HOME.

Tho following fiom the Household may not be a word amiss. The most perfect home I ever saw was in a little house in the sweet incense of whose fires went no costly things. A thousand dollars served for a year's living of father, mother and three children. But the mother was a creator of home her relation with her children was the most beautiful I have ever s^en even a dull and commonplace man was lilted up and enabled to ao good work for soul?, by tbe atmosphere which this woman created every inmate of her house involuntarily looked into her face for the key-note of the day and it always rang clear. From ths rose-bud or clover leaf which, in spite of ber hard housework she always found time to put, by our plates at brerkfast, down to the essay or story she had on hand to bo read ordls cussed in the evening, there was no intermission of hor inlluenco. She has always been and always will bo my ideal of a mother, wife and bomemoker.

It to her quick brain, loving heart and exquisite tact had been added tbe appliances of wealth and tha (-nlargement of wider culture, her's would have be9n absolutely the ideal home. As it was, it tho best bavo ever se»*n. It is morr than twenty year* mnce 1 crossul itu threshbold. I do not know whether she is living or not but as I see house after house in which fathers and mothers and children are dragging out their lives in a haphazard alternation of listless routine and unpleasant collision, I always think with a sigh of that poor little cottage by the sessbore, and of the woman who was the "light thereof and 1 find in the faces of many men and children, as plainly written and as sad te see as in the newspaper columns of "Personals," "Wanted—a home."—[From "Bits of Talk." _____

MASKED balls in Paris owe most of their gayety to societies of dancers hired by the proprietors to attract the public. These dancers form a regularly organized corporation, "Los eutraincurs bals" numbering some hundred members, who are subdivided into three bodies—

La Jeunesse Parisienne," "La Societle de la Qulnzalne," and "Les Chevaliers de la Tume." Tbe membem are maialy respectable young workmen and pjor clerks who arc land of dancing. Dressed in fantastic guise armed with rattles, bells, castanets and penny trumpets, the various companies on a ball night assemble at some cafe, where tbe president calls the roll, and absentees are fined. Members are all known by odd sobriquets, such as "Ball of Thread" "The Mad Eel," "Fine Beard," etc., while tbe president Is styled" Hand some Duck." At midnight the "entrainears" sally forth, dancing down the streets and playing their several instrument?, and, rushing into tbe ballroom, execute marvellous feats. These societies have the entree even to tbe balls of the grand opera. —v

The little mind that loves Itself will wrlto and think with tbe vulgar, but the great mind will be bravely eccentric, and acorn the beaten road, from universal benevolence. ,,^

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MORSELS FOR SUNDA Y. •, in He if dead in whom shatne is dead! Who bravely dares must sometimes risk a foil.

Tbe past Js the sepulchre of our dead emotions. The proud are'always most provoked by pride.

Things passed, may be repented but not recalled. Common sense is nature's gift, but reason is an art.

Strong love is to be tried by principles snot by fervor. He who has lost confidence can lose fi: nothing more.

Be charitable and indulgent to every one but yourself. He only employs bis passion who ean

Itfis a higher exhibition of Christian manliness to be able to bear trouble than to get rid of it.

Prudent men lock up their motives, letting familiars have a key to their hearts as to their garden.

Many a man dreads throwing away his life at once, who shrinks not from throwing it away pieoemeal.

A wise Persian maxim says: "A6t not against thy reason it is a sure guide set not thy heart on illusions."

One of the most fatal temptations to tho weak is a slight deviation from the truth, for tbe sake of apparent good.

To understand tbe world is wiser than to condemn it. To study the world is better than to shun it. To use the world is nobler than to abuse it. To make the a world better, lovelier and happier Is the noblest work of man or woman.

No man can make aright out of a wrong any more than he c?n paint A piece of cork so like a stone that it will sink to tbe bottom when It is thrown into tbe water.

Our Lord God doth like a printer who setteth tbe letters backward we see and feel well the setting, but we shall read the print yonder In the life to come.— [Martin Luther.

"THE AGE OF REASON.,r

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make no use of his reason, How oft the sight of means to do ill ?,' deeds make deeds ill done.

How much finery Is stripped off jbyja sudden wind of temptation. Pain addeth sest unto pleasure and 4' teaches the luxury of healtb.

Lowliness of mind is not a flower that grows in the field of nature. Where there ia mystery it is generally supposed that there must also be evil.

Belter be ill-spoken of by one before all, than by all before one. If you have religion you need not tell people about it they will find it out after trading witn you a little while.

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A man's first care should be to avoid ft the reproaches of bis own heart hia mi next, to escape the censures ef the world.

Old age seizes upon an ill-spent youth like fire upon a rotten house it was rotten before, and must have, fallen of Itself, EO that it Is no more than one rain preventing another. c-

A man who uses bis tongue too much 0 Is apt to use his hands too little. Great professors are not often great doers. Life is not long enough to permit us to become proficient in two directions.

Sanctified afflictions sre an evidence of our adoptioi) we do not prune dead trees to make them fruitful, nor those which are planted in tbe desert, but such as belong to tbe garden and possess life.

Habit Is our primal fundamental law habit and imitation—there is nothing more perennial in us than these two. They are tbe source of all working and alkapprentlceship, of all practice and all learning, in this world.

Genius Is not a single power, but a combination of great powers. It reasons bnt it is not reasonings it imagines, but it is not imagination it feels deeply and fiercely, but it is not passion. It is neither, because it Is all.

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On high mountainous elevations the thunder is almost silent, and tbe light* nlng harmless. Let a man raise himself heavenward If he would escape the evil that surrounds him.

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A preacher said in the course of a Hermon, "I want a holiness that puts a basket on tbe arm and puts something in the basket and goes to the home of pf impoverishment and says not in words but in works, 'Here is the evidence of my piety.'"

Tho happiness of life is made up of minute fractions—the little soon-forgot- & ten charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind look, a heart-felt compliment In tbe dls-

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[ulse of a playful raillery and the countother Infinitesimals of pleasant thought and feeling.

A man is known to his dog by tho smell, to his tailor by tbe coat, to his |(j friend by the smile—each of these know

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him, but how little or how much de- ,i: pends on the dignity of the intelligence. That which is truly and indeed charac- 41 teristic of the man, :s only known to God. ,^4i

The higher and more sacred the truth §1 the mere imperious the obligation of in vestigating the grounds on which it rests. No man bas a right to assum? tbe truth of his creed because it is a pleasant belief, or because bis father held it before him. or Nccanse to doubt or d9nyitis to disrupt social relations *r to cast blm loof" from the nr00rings of old convletioiisand oompel bim to begin bis life s# anew. Fidelity to one's own Interior convictions Is the first Jaw of intellectual honesty whatever violates this law Is s| infidelity There Is an Infidel faitb and there is a faithful infidelity and the latter has more of the spirit of Christ than the former.—[Christian Unioa.

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The boy that went to the mill on horse-bacK, oarrying the grist in one end it*,* of the bag and a stone in the other, when reproved by the miller, and told to divide the grist, replied that bis father and grandfather had carried it that way, and be, being no better than they, ahould continue to do as tbey did. Similar, or as absurd, reasons are accounted as sufficient by some to warrant them I.J in indiscriminately condemning Dr. Pierce's Family Medicines, even though there is overwhelming proof that they possess the merit claimed lor them, For many yeara the Golden Medical Discovery has been recognized as the UKTleading 4ver and blood medicine in the market. Each year bas brought an increase in its sale, and it is now used throughout tbe civilized world. Thousands of unsolicited testimonials are on file In the Doctor's office, attesteng Its ^,,a efficacy In overcoming aggravated coughs, colds, throat and lung affections, also scrofula, tumors, ulcers and aklu diseases. Are you suffering with some ^«.*• chronic malady? If so, and you wish

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to employ medicines that are scientifically prepared that are refined and purltied By tbe chemical process employed &W-. in their manufacture that are positive in their action, and specific to the various forms of disease for the cure of which they are recommended, use Dr. Pierce's o**r Family Medicines. Full particulars in Piercers Memorandum Book, kept for Jlgo distribution by all druggists. t,