St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 16, Number 7, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 9 August 1890 — Page 2

T r——— LIV, % ik BY ¥ ANCIS S, SMITH. After the tempest comes the calm; After the woo the healing balm After the shower the bright sunshine; After hard toil the yieldi g mine; After the planting tho tender shoot; After the growing the harvest fruit; Atter mad fo.ly reilection deep ; After long watching the bles-ed sleep. So runs the mixture of sobbing and song That checkers this life as we hurry along; 8o runs the record of good and of ill-— So runs the rtory of wenkness and will, But when 'tls viewed in philosophy’s light, The grand sum is perfect—the average right; - The end comes at last, and our joys and our woes Are ended alike in eternal repose. | —-New York Weekly. A BACHELOR’S TRIALS ° A Tale of Loye and Hair-Dye. BY CAROLINE F, PRESTON. Panl Jenkins would have been a nrappy man but for a single circumstance. The eircumstance was the perverse determination of his hair to turn gray, when he would decidedly have preferred to have it remain its original color, a glossy black. This it was that embittered his existeuce, in spite of his good health, good income and prosperity in other respects. This it was, as Mr. Jenkins conjectured, which steod in the way of acceptance by Sophronia Jones, with whom he fancied himself wildly iu love. ¢ M. Jenkins felt that he had not ar- * rived at an age which justified his gray Lhairs. He had only just passed his fortieth birthday. However, it was a family peculiarity, and he must submit to it with the best grace that he could muster, l . But all at once light dawned on his gloomy dissatisfaction. On one of his | quarterly visits to the eity, for the vur- | flose of receiving his bank di\‘idends.l is attention was called to a placard upon a wall, wherein the merits of Higginbotam’s celebrated hair-dye were set forth in large capitals. ' “That wiil be just the thing for me,” thought our friend Paul. *I don't | think it’s at all out of the way to call in | art to the assistance of Nature, wheu! Nature don’t do as well by you as she ! might be reasonably expected to, | There’s no reason why such a good- | looking young fellow as lam—" (I| beg the reader to observe that gentle- | men are much more subject to vanity f than ladies, although I know that some l prejudiced persons hold a different | opinion.) “There’s no reason why such ? & good-looking fellow as I am,” cou- | jinned Mr, jenking, “should wear the! livery of old age.” ‘ Mr. Paul Jenkins accordingly detided to procure a bottle of the mix- | ture. Proceeding to the store where it l was to be procured, he went in and in- | quired in a low tonre for Higginbotam’s g celebrated hair-dye. While the’ clerk | was wrapping up the bottle, he assured | the delighted customer that it was de | cidedly the best thing of the kind in ! the market, and would make hi.: look ! at least ten years younger., i “Sophronia Jones shall be mine,” | said Jenkins exultingly, as he pushed the bottle into his overcoat pocket and | mwade his way to the railroad station. | He was anxious to be at home in| prder to test the wonderful effects of | she celebrated hair dye. The ride over | and the village reached, Mr. Jeukins } rapidly took his way to the residence of | Mrs. Selina Wiggin, where he boarded. % " He seemed in unusuul spirits, which | led Mrs. Wiggin to imagine that the | banks had paid a larger dividend than f : usual, but how little could she guess | that the little bottle which she could | seo protruding from his pocket was the ! | sole cause of his good spirits, If she | had known that by the help of this he | : expected to win the hand of Sophronia ' Joues her own spirits wonld have been | visibly affected, since she would have || been yery sorry to lose so profitable | aud desirable a boarder as Mr, Jenkins | ¢ ‘had proved to be for the last ten years, 5 rduring all of which he had been an in- I ;mate of her establishment. | There had been a time indeed when ! ] +she had hoped that he would become | ] -something nearer than a boarder, but | ¢ that hope Mrs. Wiggin had about given | 1 up, finding that he had never seemed | t to notice the glances of affection which | she threw over to him across the table. | ¢ Her chief desire now was to keep him | unmarried and so retain him as a] boarder, since, if married, he wonld s without mueh doubt go to keeping!{ house, and Mrs. Wiggin would lose a| f very important part of her income. Y Mrs. Wiggin did not fail to observe ] the bottle which her boarder had| brought home with him. She felt a strondg curiosity to learn its contents, l $ and decided at the very next oppor-| tunity that offered to do so. That op- | € portunity was not long .in coming. | ¢ Every morning Mrs, Wiggin sent her | servant in to set Mr. Jenkins’ room to ;] rights. But on the morning succeed- | | ing his return from the city, she con- |« cluded to take this duty upon herself, | in order that she might thereby have a | chance to find out the mystery which | puzzled her. } “Bridget,” she said, as the latter was | about to go up stairs on her morning | errand, “yon have more than usual to | do to-day. You can stay here and I} will elear up Mr, Jenkins’ room this | morning.” ' “Shure, ma’am, and you are very ; kind,” said Bridget, a little surprised | at this extraordinary and unexpected ] kindness on the part of her employer. ! “I don’t want you to do too much," | said Mrs. Wiggin. “I am not one of | those people that are willing to work | their ‘he]p' to death.” l When Mrs. Wiggin entered the room | of her lodger, her first proceeding was | to lock the door—probably in order | that none of the dust might get out of | the room into the entry. Having done this, she laid down her broom, put on ber glasses, and began to look carefully % about her. First she scanned the| mantelpiece, next *the bur‘onn. and i finally she took the liberty of opening the upper burzau drawer. Here she ‘ found what she sought. Before her,; wrapped in the same paper, was “{‘3l myvsterious bottle. Hastily unrolling it | she learned the fatal truth. | 1t was hair dye! l Whv do I sav fatal truth? I willtell = e nue ca ot onee eoncluded |

B T £ e e Al A T ——— what was indeed the truth, that this looked towards matrimony. She knew how inuch the use of the hairdye would improve his appearance, and feared that it would make him irreisstible to Sophronia Jones. ‘But what was she to do? Was she to stand quietly by and suffer this to take place? No. Mrs. Wiggin was a woman of resource, and she sat down with her head between her hands to consider what she should do. .| “An ideastruck her. She would empty : | out the hair dye and substitute something else in its place. She remembered that she had in the cupboard, in | her own room, a large pint bottle of blue ink. Scarcely stopping to think she stole out of the room, and brought it back with her. Her next proceeding was to empty the bottie of hair dye out of the window, and fill it instead with blue ink. “There,” said she, when this was accomplished. *“I don’t believe Mr. Jen- | kins will improve his appearance much | by the use of this.” | ‘ Her conscience reproached her somewhat with what she had done, but she ‘ l felt that desperate emergencies required | desperate remedies, as this certainly | Was, ‘ | Mr. Jenkins, meanwhile, had eon{cl_udeq not to make immediate use of | his hair dye, but to defer it till the next | Thursday evening, when he had re- | ceived an invitation to attend a party | at the house of Squire Jones, the father {of his beloved Sophronia. He felt that _’ the unexpected youthiulness of his lappearance on that occasion would be | decidedly in his favor, ! As might naturally be expected he { longed to have the time come, but time { will not hasten his flight, even for imI patient lovers. He is much more likely |to retard it. Tmmediately after tea on | Tharsday afternoon Mr. Jenkins went {up to his room, locked the door, took l his bottle of hair dye from the drawer, land proceeded to useit. He had only | a faint candle to assist him in his task, 'and this prevented his discovering the ’ deception which had been practiced upea him. In fact, in the dim light, ‘ the mixture looked dark and he sup { posed iU was all right. After rubbing | | in what he supposed wounld be suflicient f for the first application, and I muy re- { mark that upon this point he certainly | did not exhibit any remarkable economy, | Mr. Jenkins leisurely proceeded to dress { himself in his most becoming attire. | His toilet was somewhat protracted, i and I should be afraid to tell vou how | many minutes he expended in adjusting ?his cravat, DBut the fact was that ous ihero had made up his mind to make | this evening the declaration which he l had long contemplated, provided he could find a favorable opportunity, | But there is an end to all things, and lso there was an end to Mr. Jenkins' toilet. About 8 o'clock he came down lstairs, and merely opened the sitting ' room door to say: - “1 am going out to a party this even ing, Mrs. Wiggin, and shan’t be at home | very early. You need not sit up for me | as you know I have a pass key.” ' Mrs. Wiggin could secarcely keep her | countenance while her lodger was | speaking, for she saw at once that he ] had fallen into the trap she had laid for | him, and in consequence that both his ! hair and whiskers had become a de cided blue. ' “I guess,” she laughed to herself: | “that Sophronia won't fancy that ,colos | any better than the other.” ] (Quite unconscious of what had be | fallen him, Mr. Jenkins proceeded tc | the party. Goingup to the gentlemen’s | room, he tock of his hat and coat and | went down to the parlors where most | of the company had already assembled. ' Somehow he seemed to attract a great | deal of attention, but this he expected, | and very naturally attributed it to what | he considered the very decided improve: | ment which had taken place in his ap- | pearance. I “No doubt,” Le thought, premdly, | “they scarcely recognize me, I look sc | much younger than before.” g And he glanced around theroom with | a look of complacent self-satisfaction. | But there was one thing that puzzled | hima not a little. The exvression of | every tace that looked at him seemed $o | be struggling with langhter. Now what | there was to laugh at im his appearanea | was more than he comld divine. .Tu l} dve the hair was quite a common thing | and not at all amusing. ‘ He looked towards Sophronia, bui ’ she, too, had a smile upon her face. He | flattered himself, however, that it was i from a different cause. No doubt she | was happy to see him Icoking so weil | He would go up and speait with her. P “It is a beautiful evening, Suphrnf— i Miss Jones,” he said, stammering i | scme confusion. “Verv,” said she, casting down hes } eves and toying with the fan which shas carried, { *I need not ask if you are well, for 1 l have seldom seen you looking better,” | he continued in a tone of galiantry, re- | covering his self-command as he ob | served her evident embarrassment. [ “Thank you,” said Sopkronia, stils % looking down. : ! Panl looked bastily abous him. Hs | saw thet no one was near, and deter- i mined to seize this opportunity to de~| cide his fate. : . l “Sophronia,” he said, “you may think me precipitate, but you nmst_ excuse it when vou consider my feehug& { love you ardently—devotedly. Will you be mine ?” st o “I have one objection,” she said l slowly. . { : “I know it, the color of my hair. But | don’t yvou see how much it is iim- i proved ?” : -~ “I see a change—but, but I ean’t| l think blue an improvement.” ! . “Blue!” shrieked Mr. Jenkins, rush- ' ine tc the mirror. ; ?)ue olance was enough. He rush.ed ' for his hat, and left the house with frantic speed. Arriving at Liis boax:d-ing-piace he seized the unluclfy‘ bottie, | dashed it to pieces on the brick hearth ( and seriously contemplated having his ‘3 head shaved. DBut Time, the great re- | | storer, together with frequent sham- | E pooing, removed the f_atal hue, ‘and! Le l ' at length recovered his peace of mind. | | And as all stories should end well, I % have to relate that Sophronia at last l | yelented and now writes her name Jen- | | kins, much to the dissatisfaction of ‘ i Mrs. Wiggin

E sove . ; BY OZIAS MIDSUMMER. p | Bweet, sweet to iy heart aro the songs ‘my youth time, ’ The solugs of my glad, happy boyhood’s ‘ght days, { : l When u:i'lf;; ms sweet, singing with rhytl?c&l ) With ho}l’)es,’oxpectutinnn, desirous alwg; But sweetest of these were the ainglng?ow. ‘ wows,"” ! | As Rover and I went to drive up the ets, | The orchard, the meadow, the wildwoc the brooklet, | v The mill-race and dam, whero its overflafell, The “swish” of the thread, with a pinpr a | hooklet, : The tmulbl and the minnows, as mepries swe ; Each sing';s a swoet song, but less swedhan “bow-wows,” As Rover and 1 went to drive up the évs. | There is “Martin,” and “Greenfiold,” ar“Pop Goes the Weasel,” And 'Tl\‘(:.;(: 3!y-und-By," “Old Kentuck*Over I lere, “Old Hundred,” and “Spring Time,” “The’encil i and Ease],” { “The Star-Spangled Baunner,” and *“rand- | mwother's Chair,” Each in itself sweet, but less swe¢than “bow-wows,” As Rover and 1 went to drive up the avs. Grand, happy old Rover, I can not forgetim, i My playmate, protector, my helper, myriend, My confidant, counselor, comtorter, cous, ! You, ln'nlthnr and lover, till reached ¢ his | end ; And ever since then echo gings his‘bow-l wows,” As fancy nssists me in driving the cos, Cuicaao, 111 ‘ eO R i In the Shadow of he! Gallows. e e s BY DAVID LOWRY. CHAPTER XIX--Continued, i The day was not very old when hereeeived his instructions to arrest John Lee | | and Arthur Proctor. The last met iim | half way, laughingly. | “I bear you have an order to takeme | { in charge, Master Hobbs?” | “’Tis my duty to do so.” l “Well, well, Master Hobbs, do not lok | o glum about it. T am preparad to ip- | penr before the justice,” ‘ “I wish I could feel as you do, Artlur Proctor.” | “And why should I show faint heat? ! What cause have I to lower mv heat? | But mark my words, Marshal Hoblx, there are some who will hold their heals | lew enough before we are quitof ths business.” i When Proctor was brought bafore tle justice—there was but one present at hi examination—he found John Lee then before him. John Lee was bowed wity grief. He scarce looked at the young man who was placed beside him. “How now, John Lee? What do yon say to the tales we hear concerning Mar- ' tin Liee's body? I John Liee looked at the Justice fenrless- | ' ly. He was consecious of his innocence, -and his innocence and simple, direct manner lent him a dignity such as the man who sat in judgment on him did not POSBBOSR, “Why, this Twill say. In the first place, | bad you no other reason than the report I hear, there is no cause to trouble yourself questioning me, since, had you instructed the Marshal to make inquiry, it | could casily have been learved that I was not out of my bed since eight o'clock last night. ™ “How? Can you bring witnesses to swear to this? “1 can; tive, if you wish te hear them.” “All persons who lodged in your| house?” : “None ledged in my house. Bince my | wife and danghbter are not in my house, | but in prisem, my bLouse is my home no | longer.' “Where de you lodge?” ! “With Matkew Bales, I seat my ap- | rentice and Amn Bigger home; Sheyhave | {'urm« false witness against me and mine, | I slept in Mathew Bales’ last night. I have so little relsance in the judgment of | some of my neighbors that, apprebending some such irguiry as this, 1 desired | Mathew Bales to fasten the door of my | room, so that he and his family cenld tes- | tify they saw me elosed in last nighs.” “Yeou interposad Master Bales, “and I am here to go baidl for John Lae, that be will appear whenever you need bhim.” | This positive stedement, mr;x)hxrm»m.t i John Lee's, and the voiuntary texdering | of his property as a bond, producsd the natural effect. The Justice wavad his

hand deprecatingly. i “Y will not exact » bond, friend Bales. | "Tis sufticient I have your word.” ! Upon seeing how it we't with Joln Lee, ! Arthur Proctor, who had viewed ths pro- | eeedings with inditterence, said: i “Sinee you have been so kipd as to listen to Master Lee's statement, will youn | permit me to say 1,.%e0, have witzmsses‘i who will tell you 1L was in the hemse | from nine o'clock last might.” ‘ “Are they here?” 1 “They are.” ' The Justice lookod at the witaesses, | and then at the handsome yourg man ! standing up fearlessiz before him. i “Are you son to Exzekiel Proctore” ‘ “He was my unode. Josiah was my \ father.” “So? And these he your witnesses?” { “My landlady and her daughtsr will| swear that I went tobed at 9.7 - ; “Well, well. It is not necessary ta move } farther in this matter now. The yumors | took such shape it was thought best to | interrogate you bath. It was noet our i purpose to confine you now, uniess the | faets warrant it, which, in our .}pinion," they do not. 1 wasn you soth, dewever, ‘ to be within eall. should you be.seduired. , This is a strange matter, and one that’ must be sifted thoroughly.” When the priseners were permitted to depart, the Justice took occasioa to speak to Proctor in priwate. - “How comes it, Master Proctor, the son of my deamest friend is in league with a woman charged with witcheraft and murder?” { l “With all deference to yam, sir,” answered Arthur Proctor, witl a rising col- l E or that became him greatly—ihe justice | . thought he never looked on a young man i go comely asthis—“she is no more a witch i than the sweetest woman xeu ever knew. I would as soon say the mother who bore ‘ me was a murderess and witeh, as let amy other than yourself charge her with it 'Tis all a foul scheme, as will be shown presently.” : “Aye, aye,” said the Justice, softly. “Pray heaven it may be. There is much that is past belief now; ’twould be well \ some courageous hearts broke the spell that is cast over the land. lam fast los- ‘ ing my faith, not in the principles of i law, but in practice oI religion. Bigotry, i and piety are traveling so clasely hand in ! hand that I am afraid when I think of the ! future.” o thank you for the canfidence you repose in me. But I shall not stop in this

e e o e e S e matter until I have the ey of Thomas Danforth,” snid:Proctor, with heightened color. “I believe Governor Danforth is a kind as well as a just man.” “Do as your heart prompts. You will not find Thomas Danforth arrogant. And if you desire, I will prepare him for your coming.” “I will never forget it if you will do gO,” said Proctor, eagerly. “But [ will find him, I will not stop until I speak with him.” “I wish you God-speed, young man, | with all my heart,” answered the Justice | a8 he turned away, leaving Arthur Proc- { tor doubting whether he heard aright or not. ' And yet it was not so strange that one | man's soul should revolt from the picture tho proceedings of those days prosented. The Justice simply was the first in his position to realize that a terribla misapprehension of their duties and the teachings of Christianity was at the root of the fever that possessed the multitude. | Perhaps he was one of those observent | men who had the ability to get at the truth when his fellows were in a fog. “So, Master Ellis, vou have miscaleulated, for once.” siid Arthur Proctor, when he was free to return to his lodgings, - “’T'was his purpose to put you both in prison,” said his uncle, ~ “Aye. And then he could go to the ! prison and make up with Janet Lee.” At that instant, as if to illustrate nnl old saying, they camo face to face with | Giles Ellis, who was walking so fast that | " he had no eyes for anything but the road. ! “1 have news for you, Master Proctor,” he said, turning and looking after them; “Indian Joe has found asbhroud. Perhaps 'twas Martin Leeo’s.” The next moment he was gone. CHAPTER XX, = THE SHROUD, Arthur Proctor said,quietly, “That will give the people of Sulem something to build on. "They have so little, even a shroud ought to be welcome.” As he spoke, they encounterad a group discussing the news in an animated man- | ner., The central figure was familiar to ! them, Ezra Easty was speaking loudly, | | pleased to find an audience so attentive, | | “We will sce whether Martin Lee be | ' really in the sea or not. Mayhap they | ' find & way to the hand that left it where | | Indian Joe found it. At least, none can | | say Indian Joe made a shroud up in his | ' mind. I saw it myself.” l | “What was it like?" " . “Was it bloody?"* | “Did it look like as if it had been in | the sea?” i | “I'll say nanght about the sea, 'Twas | bloody, though, as all will see when "tis | . shown,” | i “And where was it found, Ezra?” 5 . “Why lthen, that is the strangest part of | ' it, There's nover n man here that can | guess.” ! “Was it taken from Wiil's Hill?" { " 'Tis more like he fished it out of Wilkins’' Pond, with a stone in it to held i on the bottom.” ; “Neither, though they are not bad | guesses. 'Twas in the last place any oue wonld think to find a shroud.” | “Come, tell us, then.” " "Twas in a hollow tree.” ' “Aye, Ezra—and was there nothing else found in the hollow tree!” - *'Twas enough to find n shroud., Mayhap the next thing they find will be Mar- | tin Lee.” : “Not Martin Lee, but all’s left of him, Ezra.” “'Tis well you know what 1 mean,” Bzra replied, tartly. “'Fis no jesting matter.” “No,” said one. ” 'tis a agoing matter for somebody.” ! Here some one i the grown observing Arthur Proctor, whsperad bis neighbor, The crowd thinned oat on t2e side neoxt Proctor; his uncie made his way through the group, where mauy turned and looke 1 st hiom, “Sawyou the shraud?” he asked Ezra | Eaaty, looking at him keonly. . "] saw the sthiroud, as any ond may sco it mow, in the Marshal's hands.” . “Ysu are sure it was nobods’s gown?" | | “% say it looked like ssshroudi” . “Axd I ask you again: Will yeu swear the shirond you saw was not socwebody's nighs-gown?” : Tha listeners looked ot Ezra oarnessly. | ' They axpected an immddidate reply, but Ezra Easty began to lsok about him. He fumbled 1n his clothes aud was stlent, “Wald then you arc not 50 sop> 1t was a shroud you saw?” ; *Come,"” said Arthur Prootor, plueking | his uxcle’s sleeve, “let im tell hir story; 'twill do no harm.” But the sharp questisus-put to the apprentice, and Ris slowness in answering, | - destroved the impression he had made. The story of the shrond was doubted, - and tho suggestion thahe had confound- | ed a night-gown withsa shroud was so | ridieulons that some smiled, while-others |

nodded knowingly to eachothor, as mueh { as to say, “I told you se.” ‘ Whe Axthur passed on with his.uncle, those sbout Ezra Easy walked: away | from himy and the awprentice was lefl | alone. In sheer desperntion theapprem- | tice tuned his footsteps to Globa lun. | Meanwhile the story of the shroud eir- | culatesd zapidly, but n so many forms | that Ezra would not have recognizsd his ] narratiee, | When he entered the Globe. Inn the landloxd was in the ast of heining himgelf to» a glass of rum. His hand was unstesdiy—he was afraid that his wafe would cemee in on hira, and he swallowead the rum at a gulp. “Ak{ It is you, Bara Easty.™ “Ays, Master Meade.” Aratler eus-tomer-amtering at that moment, lzra was resolved to make the most of his small audience. “Heast heard the news, landiord?” . “There is so pwich going’bwonld be hard te tell. I heasr much.” ' Anather customer entering, and recognizivg the one wio entered: before him, | thep both sat at she table, and each orderad his liquos, while both looked shasply at the opprentice. lara Easty . wap well known, to half Uxe people of . Salem—the otheyr half didi net desire to krew more of him than they were competled to know. l “But it’s not such naems as I have,” ! said the appremtice. I “Ave. And. what lika is this strange. aews?” | “Why,” hexs Ezra Masty raised his voice so that the customers at the table ! eould hear kim, “they 2ave found Martin | Lee's shroud.” b Grizzle Meade coming through jhe i door at that instans, looked sharply at ! the apprentice, then cast a meaning look ‘at her husband. Daniel Meade put a foot on the chair nearhim, and resting his chin on his hand, with his elbow on his knee, said quietly: “So? They have found Maxtin Lee’s shroud.” “I always thonght the truth wounld come oat,” said Grizzle, looking at her customors for approval. The customwers at the table nodded, and each took a pull at the liquor before him, | “’Tis out new.” Ezra Easty was wait. ing for the reward such mews was woxth. Grizzle lgoked at her husband and the landlord measured bim a drink &f 2um. As the apprentice ayed the lsndloxd's | moveraexis, he adged:

: o — " *There’s some would make light of It, l | and say 'twas only grandmother's nightgown. But wait till they see—wait till they see.” “And whers was it found, and who found it?” inquired Grizzle Meade. Whereupon the apprentice, who was in hig element now, related with great particularity how Indian Joe found the ghroud in the hollow of a tree. The landlord of the Globe Inn listened attentively, nodding approval as the ap- | prentice proceeded with details that em- - bellished a statement forecible enouch l when related in simple language. When he ended Grizzle Meade inquired: | “And the hollow tree—where is it?” l | “’Tis just below John Lee’s place.” , What! No* near the road?” | “’Tis on the road.” . “And the hole in the troe where he found it—is it near the ground?” “’Tis on the ground.” “Why, then,” said Daniel Meade slow- | - ly, “whoever placed it there knew it would | | be seen.” . i The customers at the table nodded, as ‘ | much as to say anyone could sce that much. ‘ “Saw you the shroud? Was there any- ‘ thing you could know it by again?” “Why do you ask such silly ques- | tions?” Grizzle Meade said to the land- ‘ lord. { “Why, just this, Grizzle: If it was rei ally Marun Lee’s shroud, as I have no l doubt it Is, there may be some way to | prove who owned the linen—~there are | many makes, and mayhap Ezra noticed | the linen.” “1 had not time. I know that Marshal Hobbs looked at it long, and sighed, saying—there was more tnan me heard him | —‘and it may be Martin lLee’s shroud.”” I “] see no reason to doubt it,” said Grizele, “Nor that his people have made wayv with him—if he did not make away with himself, knowing that if ever he was caught, he would hang for killing l our son.” | “Every one in Salem knows that,” the apprentice said, quickly. “And what do they say, Ezra?” | *“Thereis no oune in Salem does not ! know how Martin Lee lodged here, and | has been made away with because of the ' disgrace hanging would bring on John | Lee and all the name.” | This was said so glibly that it prodnced { the effect the apprentice desired. Asif | to corroborate his tale, Giles Ellis entered the inn, and soon was installed in | the seat he occupied when sampling the liquors the inn boasted. To him Ezra Euasty turned. . “It must be you have heard the news?” { “Aye—if so be it is the shroud you | speak of. And I have seen it. And it ' may not be long till we know where Martin was buried. One thing is sure-—jus- | tice has been cheated.” [ Giles Ellis looked at the lamdlord and bis wife. 'l'he landlord shook his head, | as much as to say justice had been cheat- { ed beyond his power to estimate it. But Grizzle, as usual, found ber tongue. “You say truly, Giles Ellis. But now | you have scen Martin Lee's shroud with | your own eyes, it is likely to go hard with Dorothea and Janet Lee, Sinece both | have confessed carrying meat and drink ! to Martin Lee, and he is nowhere to be fsnnd-—bat, instead, now they have found his shroud-—why, 'tis plain they wi'} both hang.” To which (sniles Ellis assented, as he drank his wine ~lowly. “And can any one see this shrowd?” Danl Meade asked. “Nao one has been denied. Scores have geen " (viles Eliis replied, as he looked at the appronsies and the customerson the other side »f the room. “The Masghal has it by him."” “So7 Then it is very bad, as Grizzle has said; for Mistress Lee and Janet.” “Ayve; unless their friends bestir themgelves, there's emough in the shroud to hang them. Moy have hanged on less

grm;ud.w;" Giles Bilis said, severely. “Tis wall the law takes them in hand, or honest people would not have room: to live.” To whish the twa eunstomers oppositwl him assented, with many nods, as they | tinished #heir yum and settlod back in | - their sesiw-to hoar sdd shat was to follow. There was nothing new. Giles Ellis. related in his tum how Indian Joe had:} found the shroud; how he nad hastened | to the Masrshal of Salem with it, and how Samuel Hobbs, lookimg at it, had said | that it was Martin Lee's shroud. Thes| tale was-so intercsting that the custom.. | ers ordersl more rum and water, as they | listened to the apprensics supplying de-. § i tails Giles Ellis omitted. i And se the finding of Martin Lee's. { ' shroud was told over and over again halfi | # score of times. bedore the Inn was. | | closed that night, for the customers whe. had head Ezra Easty and Giles Ellis | | relate i, in their tasn related it to» | | others. ; | Salem fell asleep that night, after lis-. | ! tening txas many vensions of the finding: [ of Martin Lee’'s shrand as human invene. [ tion could supply in six or eight hours. § Os omne thing there was no doubt. A | . shroud had been fonnd in a hollow tree. | | by Indian Joe, and:i¥ i% was not Martin | i Lee's, vahose, then, was it? | é [TO-BE COMTINUED.] ;' | Delighting: & Laughter. ; | These are frequens instances of‘ con- | | ceited persons wiio ‘‘love to hear thems- | | selves talk.” Nobedy feels muchsym- | | pathy with this weakness, perhaps.| | becanse it is se zemerally shared, but | | that of wishing: te hear one’s own 1 langiy when the privilege has bsen for-} | many :ears denied. is pathetic enough. | to bréng tears to the eyes of pesple en- | dowed with the 3ull quota of senses. | Mr. Morse, the wife of the greab | eleagrician, was at her marriage, = | mute, and did net remember the sound Los ber own vore. Her family believad ] that total deafness was the result of { imprudence semmitted by a nurse dnar- { ing her infaney, and not am affection | fom birth.. | DBuoyed up by confidemeo in this | theory, and with patience inspired by | bve, Profassor Morse exlinusted every | means to restore tc his wife her two | lost senses, and his efforts were L erowned in the end by efomplete sue- ' ogess., i After the cure had Teen perlected, , | Mrs. Morse seemed perfectly happy. .| She talked almost incessantly. and { above all the joys of life ranked that )| of langhter. ‘ bl Whenever it was compatible with | k | good taste she laughed heartily: in con- | :! versation the least trifle exeited her | % risibles, and it was confided asa fact to | & few chosen friends that so divine a ; sound in long dulled ears were those ' tones of her own voice that often and | s | often she would go off alene, close the ! | . v - | doors, and surfeit the newly found hearv ing by long, ringing pealsof fresh, unreL| strained laughter, swester far than any : l music to the happy woman reseued . | from the horrors of dumbness.—New > | Orleans Times-Democrat, | Y —_— s | ONE has always time enough, if one l will apply it all.—Goethe, :

Vi d ‘ Keep Your Mouth Closed. The following is suggested to snorers: There aro two channels ir which the air travels in going to the lungs namely, the nose ard mouth. These two passages unite in a common cavity and from that point there is but u;xe; tube leading to the lungs. There i. a bone called the hard palate, which forny the roof of the mouth and the floos of the nose, separating these two air channels from each other. At the inner or posterior end of the bone isa little body called the soft palate, mude of muscle } and covered with a delicate skin. This - soft palate is attached at one end to he hard palate; the other end hangsloose and moves or laps in the act of breatn'ing, something like a window curtain when acted upon by a current of air, - This is its condition while we are asleep i or awake, though during sleep it lacks in tonieity, being much more relaxed or l flabby than when we are awake. Now, in order to snore, one must keep the mouth open as well as the nose, and in this condition the ftwo currents of air passing in and out together during the act of breathing catch the littie curtain l between them and throw it into rapig vibration. This vibration, more or less intense and snorous, is what we cali | snoring. 1t is only with the mouth open that snoring can be accomplished during sleep. Awake, if the nose is closed by = the thumb and finger, by taking a for- | cible breath, it 1s possibie to snore, and ’ the same result may be accomplished with the mouth snut and the nose open; but the muscular effort necessary to its accomplishment is more than we can % command during sleep, and would wake = I up the person who might unconsciously make the etfort. o ' If the mouth be closed (the natural condition during siumber) but one cur- = rent of air will pass to and from flw{ lungs. The ecurrent, pressing abougi’g I equally on all sides of the canal, wili press the soft palate forward and down- | ward until it is applied to the tongué;}-iv’?g and will hold it there geutly, thus pre- ,3 venting any sonorous vibration. It folJows that any device which prevente the lower jaw from dropping down durthe relaxation of sleep, and opening the mouth, will shut out the one unnaturas current of wir and prevent snoring., An apparatus could be madeof a simile cap fitted to the head snugly—acap of soft material fitting the ehin and a picee of elastic webbing tacked tothe chin-piece and to the head cap near the ears. The webbing can be made mom:% or less tense as may be regqnired to ellect the closure of the mouth. The apparatus is so simple that any one cap make it. Now, snorers, you can repair the windpipe, and the non-snorers wili be left o the quietness of their own slumbers.— I'roy Times. ‘“g ‘ The Birth of a Word. § Richur@ Daly, proprietor of the Smoke Alley Theater, Dublin, in th@‘% vear 1791, had an extraordinary propensity for making wagers, Hearing an actor (pseribed in French as wr Jagotin, a teem for which it was argued there was no English equivalent, a dm«% cussion arose, in the course of which he offered to bet twenty guineas thfit,,;:g within forty-eight hours a periectly neyg:«;%‘g word should be in the mouths of nearlvzffiégg l all the people 4n Dublin, and within & week begin to be commonly used, wathfi i s new aund definite meaning attachefifigé [ ¢4 2 ¥ 7

U s s The bet was accepted by Aldermam_-’,}:g Monerieffe, in combination with three others who were present, and the stales were duly deposited. After the performanees of his theater were over, Daily wrote a word en each of a dozen or two cards, andi giving one to each of the eall-boys. scene-shifters, carpenters and supernumerases, with a lump of ehalk, directed them to perambulate the eity uontil day<break, chalking the ~word upon as many: deors and shutters as they could. The next day was Sunday, and upon the:doors of shops, ware- - ' houses and private dwellings, this one word appeared, in.avery direction, creating no little wonder and alarm. ‘ ~ Some believed. it to be the watch~word of a secret society, and the signat ~for some unlawful slaughter-house do- ' ings; some believesi on first seeing it ' that it was a nickname for themselves; , all over Dublin it was talked about, i discussed and wondered at. After & few days the general conelusion was . that it meant nothing more than a joke, -a mere trick to sek people talking, only - the hoax of someone who wanted: to l‘ humbug and laugls at the entire popu~ | lation of the city. . DBut the word. was never forgottan, ‘ and it is now in gommon use, with: w . well-defined meaning attached to it, in ' India, Australia,, America, Canada,. in ' short, wherever the Engiish language: is spoken. Theword was the now expressive, but at. first meaningless, one —Quiz.—New Lastle (Eng.) Choon~ P icle. % Love-and Tragedy. i A romance-tinged story comes from t Bucharest (Roumania) in connection | with a double-suicide that has lately | shocked society there. A daughter ot | an ex-ministen. married to a doctor in | Moldavia, somght and obtained a divorce, She and an officer in the artillery, Captain G——, had become very strongly attached to each other, and after the formalities of the divoree had been gone through Captain G—— sought ands obtained the King's.¢onsent | to his marriage with Mme. N——. The ! wedding: day was fixed, and all seemed bright snd promising, when Bucharest was one morning pained and astonished to leam that Mme. N—— had put an | end to her life. Just prior to the wed- | ding the discovery was made and re- | vealed to the unfortunate lady that & i blood relationship existed between her | self and ber lover that proved a }Dill' t,o | their marriage. Since Mme. N——B | Qeath the Captain has been in despair; ! visiting her tomb twice daily, and saying to his comrades that he should soon be with the objact of his 10\‘(_3- On . Friday morning his~ orderly, going fe ;n\\'ake him to go on duty, found his ' master lying dead. It seems he had taken a strong dose of peison. By the i side of his bed was a volume of poems ‘with dried edelweiss between tae leaves, and on the sofs a gown belong: !jug %o the late Mme, N——, SIQWS ' thickly with fresh rose leaves. I sEG you to take courage; the Lrava ' woul can mend even disaster.