St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 16, Number 30, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 31 January 1891 — Page 6

LOVE OR DEATH. BY WM. W. LONG. You cannot send me from you, sweet—bet ter To smite me where I stand dead at your t est.' I have no fear—see, with all my life's Great love, my breast I bear, white as a woman’s. Ami as pure as God—death at your feet Will be supremely grand. Strike! strike deep ’ Let your dagger’s point go to my heart's red Core up to the hilt. Pause not, but Strike—strike swift; set the keen point here Where my heart's pulse rise and fall doth Only beat for you. Strike to the bright blade's Rim, and let the rich blood of great Love With crimson stain my body's death. 1 Am not of this puny race of men—half devil. Half God am I, therefore slay me, or give yourself , To ine, for all my heart toward you Aches: my soul is fed with love of you; my Body burns with love’s desire for you—if then I be not worthy of your love, give me what Most men. fear—death, hero at your feet. Else will I tear you from Lust's arms, Who loi r hath ravished your pure body to His beastly need, though hell gapped red, and All the earth did cry: “Murder have you done Most foul!” Strike! else I claim you mine. Palmyra, Va. UniM

I fl Remarkable Romance. BY EMILY THORNTON. CHAPTER XVIII —Continued. Then a violently storm was raging. The storm was, strange to say, the first that had occurred in the evening since his night view of the haunted tower, and its dancing demon, just live weeks before. Not wishing to be seen by any of the inmates, he did not venture out until after nine o'clock. Then the wild wind and drenching rain served to retard his progress so much that it was full quarter to ten before he felt the worn pathway, and crept behind the clump of thick, wet bushes, where, once concealed from view, he paused to light a small dark lantern he had wisely brought with him. By the aid of this he proceeded to examine what seemed only a dull, blank wall. Close inspection, however, revealed a a large stone that was loose, which he easily drew forth, making a clean, unobstructed passageway, through which a man could creep, and without hesita- ( Gon. in he went, landing directly upon an I old but still passable floor. Lowering his light, he paused to examine this floor, and found, to his surprise, | wet tracks upon it, that told plainly that very recent footsteps had passed that i way. Following these, the young man walked in a direct line across the building, until he reached a door, which, upon trying, he found, to his chagrin, securely fast- ' ened.

_^Even while he paused to re Hort upon distant. footsteps fell upon his ear, just beyond Ilie door, and hurriedly he darted bark, extinguishing his light as he did so. Just in time was this movement made, for a hand unhooked the fastening, opened the door, and there, to his unmitigated surprise, stood Ethel Nevergail, the girl so much the object of his thoughts since that narrow escape of hers a day or two before, with a lighted -candle in her hand, fleering into the darkness beyond. Had she seen him? he asked himself; ■creeping like a thief toward this unfortunate house, and. hearing his steps, had She come to warn him away? No; the thought was absurd, and he soon saw that she came seeking merely a covered basket, not observed until then, standing just beyond the door. How pale she looked, as he viewed for one moment her sad face, and—yes. surely those were tears that fell from her beautiful hazel eyes upon her cheek! The sight of those tears caused him to take one stop toward her. but. sho fortunately did not see him, but drew to the door, after securing the basket, and he then heard her little feet start down the corridor. Resolved not to be balked in his efforts to unravel, this night, one mystery at least. Dr. Elfenstein pushed again toward the door, and to his joy it this time yielded to his touch. Poor Ethel! this night for the first time had been required by Sir Reginald Glendenning, to visit the tower, and follow out directions he gave her in full, for producing the illusions that were to terri- . fy the unsuspecting public. In great agitation then, and still weeping, she had proceeded to the fulfillment of her loathsome duty, and in her grief and excitement, for the first time forgot to fasten the door, after possessing herself of the food. This forgetfulness accounts for the j - entrance of the Doctor into the corri- > dor. and enabled him to follow her ad- I vanning figure, softly in the distance. • CHARTER XIX. A TERBIBUE FRIGHT. Wiping away her tears, poor Ethel placed the basket of food and knife upon the floor, by the entrance of the tower, as Sir Reginald had told her to attend to the business in that quarter before adminis- ' tering to the wants of the concealed quadruped. The wind raged furiously without.,: the thunder rolled, and lurid lightning flashes entered the windows of the tower as she crept up the stairs, on and on, up and up. ever up, ■while her heart beat faster and faster, as she thought of the loathsome task before her. At last the weary steps were climbed, and she stood panting on the broad landing. just below the upper windows of the place. It was standing on this landing that her part of the ghostly work was to be performed. Taking then a long-handled torch, with which the colored lights above were to be touched in order to light them, she applied the candle to it, and reaching up soon had every one illuminated and flaming away in the usual unearthly looking glare. In doing so she never observed the Tall, silent figure of the man who had crept after her and now stood In the shade below, intently watching Let every motion.

1 lie stnffi d form before her was next to be attended to. Taking, therefore the lamp from within the head she . lighted it, and putting it back almost exclaimed at the effect the colored light , gave the eyes. Winding the crank slowly, sho saw that it worked as she supposed it would, and t oon the impish figure was swung aloft, and stood dancing to and fro, to the terror and dismay of all outward beholders. With tears still falling over her pale cheeks. Ethel stood with her eyes fastened above upon the swaying motions of that frightful-looking image, when her heart almost stopped within her, and a wild cry burst from her lips as these words fell upon her ears: “Is it possible that this is the occupation of Miss Ethol Nevergail this stormy night?” Turning, she saw advancing Inward her, and fully revealed by the lights | above, the form of Dr. Elfenstein. “Oh. Doctor,” she. wailed, as sho buried her face in her hands, and burst into low sobs of pain and dismay, “how came you here to witness my disgraceful work*?” Then suddenly remembering her charge, and true to the interests of her employer, she again seized the crank and, lowering the image, extinguished i that head lamp, as well as the others, leaving everything in darkness but for the feeble flare of one little candle she I had placed upon the floor. Then turning she faced her accuser. “I camo, no mat tor how; suffice it that

I was determined to unmask this daring fraud, and so allay the fears of timid women and children. Certainly, in doing this, I never expected to discover that Miss Nevergail was the prime mover in this outrageous piece of work!” Ethel listened to the cold, hard words 1 in utter despair, then fluttering like a i wounded bird to the side of the indig- j nant man, she laid one small, white i hand on his arm, which was shaken off ■ in disdain before sb mid utter one of : the following words. “It is the first time I ever did this j thing. Oh. believe me: surely yon must I remember that I was in Liverpool when | you saw that sight, the time when it last appeared?” “Yes, that is true; I had forgotten. ’ But that does not absolve yon from tonight's ghastly deception,” was till' still cold reply. I “But Sir Reginald compelled me to do i it. I begged and entreated him to <x- ’ cuse ine; I told him ft was sinful, but he [ flow into a passion, and bade me disobey i him on the peril of is everlasting displeasure. Sir, 1 was homeless, and he was sick! What was Ito do?” “Forgive me! You poor little girl, I ! was harsh and cruel in my judgment. Yon were, indeed, obliged to execute tbe vile plans of the baronet. There, ” added h•, tenderly, as he drew her hands from her j face, and with his handkerchief wiped 1 away her tears, “weep no more: you were not. to blame. Child, give me your hand in toki n of forgiveness.” । Laying her trembling hand in his, she ' murmured: I “Then you do not despise me?” “Despise you? No! no! I only.” he I stopped; lie was about to sax “love you.” ■ but remembering his von. he added softly, “pity you!” “Yes, you may pity me! Oh, auntie. : auntie! why did 1 over promise you to come to tiiis wretched place?” was hetwailing cry. [ Still holding her hand in his, and also i taking from her the candle, he turned

11 and led herdown the long, steep stairs. 1 ! Only once did Ethel speak, then ^he 1 ; merely said: “Sii- Reginald will be very angry, if he hears of vour entrance here! Must lie be told?” “1 will think it over, and let yon know to-morrow. You must sleep to-night, and so recover from this nervousm-s ” Thev soon reached the bottom stair, and entered 1 he corridor. Then Ethel remembered that her w ork J w >s but half done, and the rest could । not 'accomplished until Dr. Elfen-tein I had left tier. Turning to him. sh" said: “Will you kindlv tell me how you entered this place? You must leav< mnow. going silently as you came.’ 1 i “I will. 1 came through the ruins I saw jou open a door, and reach for a basket, then 1 instantly entered." I “But surely. I fastened it again'.”’ “You were so agitated you forgot to [I do it. I certainly opened it. without > ( i difficulty, and crept after you. eager to ' Solve the mystery of the haunted tower. ! which I then, for the first time, began to ' I connect with your movements. But you , are weary now. so I will leave you, and return as 1 came. ” Giving back the candle, he took her hand and was just saying, “Good-night. Miss Nevergail,” when suddenly both stopped short in their walk; both turned deadly pale, as a short, strange, loud re- ; port, close by their ears, startled and ; confounded them. I Then, to their horror, something dart- , j cd toward them, a huge form swooped I past, dashing the candle to the ground. ' i thus extinguishing it. leaving them in j total darkness and gloom. ! “Oh. what is it. what is it?” cried the ! terrified girl, as she nestled close to her I companion, while he. scarcely realizing ■ what he did, threw his arms around her form, to protect her from he knew not ; I what. I Suddenly, a wild, unearthly laugh or j I yell floated to them from the other end of ; । the corridor, and as it passed. Dr. Elfen- ! ' stein pressed the girl lie hold closer to his , ' heart, and laid his check' against her I frightened face. i “What can it be? I- it imp or ” “Devil, 1 guess.” interrupted the Doc- : : tor. Then, gently raising her.be said: “But this will not do: I must strike a i light and see what this can be.” Stooping to find the candle, another - I eldritch-like wail came, this time as if I | from the ruins, and with the first sound I Ethel darted toward the man beside her, crying: “Oh. do not leave me! I shall die, I ■ shall die!” Gathering her once more in his arms, j the Doctor whispered: “I will not You are not so afraid now. । and thus, close to me, are you, dear?” I “No; not so fearfully afraid as Iwas.” i Gently stroking her hair, the young ! man felt, even in the terror inspired by I their dreadful position, a feeling almost j of rapture steal over him as he held her | thus close in his arms, with hers clinging 1 . to his waist. But, suddenly, calmer reflections came; 1 he felt this tiling must be seen to; what- 1 1 ever presence bad been near him must I be discovered, and that he ought to fol- I low up the sound. . “Child!” he whispered, “whatever has ■ I been near us. I know by that last cry, | I has escaped into the ruins, through the | - door by which I entered. That being ; so, I must in duty carry you to a place j

if Instantly then, it, flashed over Fh mind that the ape, Sir Reginald^ 61 ’ 9 concealed treasure, hadeseaned / ^°ice the knife she Juul so careless! had done the deed. Shly given him He had cut his way out. Oh, the terror this thono-bt m her heart was almost unhea^™ 81 ^to At once she became, as it Wero ' „ , weight again in the Doctor's dead rhen another thought came th\ parted new life. 10 tlla t imHer o at h h ad been taken never . veal the existence of that aninW 10 r °" the concealed room. a ’ "°r of In order to keep this vow Dr Fu stem must not examine the promi? ll ™’ She knew well now the nx>‘i that first report. m cant Ug o f The beast had knocked down tn , shdves burst open the pSV ™ consequence a light would show J Donor that opening and tho^^ n,llst tbi S ^Nerving herself for a new task, sho “Doctor, I cannot consent to boi nc i e ft a moment, here alone! Nor will I consent to your exposing yourself further I to-night. Take me, then, to in y room | and we will lock up this place, and von can steal softly from the house another way.” “But, Miss Nevergail. surely this ought to be investigated.” “Oh, no, please do not investigate' 1 cannot allow it —cannot endure it!L* As she spoke, a long, deep sp^^ ct passed over her frame, and the ^7^'’ noticing it, knew at once th® ^ er nervous system could stand no¥o rc > I and therefore felt it was best to yi/d. “Shall 1 not, at. least, light, the caBIe?” “No, no! I cannot bear it!” murftired ■ the poor girl, horrified at the thought of i what a light might reveal. -Tell me, then, which way yourroom lies, and 1 shall carry you thiti^r at i once!” ‘Straight! .lust beyond the door by which you entered, through a passageway: my room lies opposite its door.” sho returned. “But, indeed, Doctor, J can walk, if you will only let me holdvour ' arm. 1 would rather. ” "Well, be it so!” returned the man releasing her. yet still retaining her hand, which lie drew under his arm. When they neared the door of theruin. however, Ethel felt a strong current of air upon her cheek, which revealed the ; fai t that if stood wide open, and initant- ' iy a deadly fear of the horrible creature that had escaped, being still near, seized j her. and again she shrank closer to her friend, while her faltering steps told of departing strength. Without a word Earle Elfenstein once more lifted her in ids arms, and so passed into the passageway. Remembering that his presence there must be kept a secret, the young girl whispered: "Step softly: lot no one hoar.” "1 will,” lie breathed back, and. guided by the dim light under the door indicated, lie passed through, emerging from the open wardrobe into the bedroom bej ond. Placing her in a large easy chair, ho stepped back, closed and fastened both doors, then returned to her side. “Please, Doctor,” sho murmured, “examine every part of this room, before you go, to be sure the dreadful—tHe dreadful " sin' hesitated. "Yes. I know.” he interrupted, “and you will soon see that you are perf^Ttly Obexing her wish, hr then w tnaß' a thorough search of room and clJail But. as he supposed, nothing was bo seen. “Now. how will yon you leave the house?” she murmured. anxiously. A six look back toward the corridor caused her to exclaim, in a whisper. as she laid her hand entrea'ingly on his arm: “Not there. Doctor; promise me you will not return to that place this night, but will go directly home.” Again Lark- yielded to the pleading of tbe sweet girl beside Idm. and again answered: Then 1 must either drop from your I window or go through the hall. Stay! I see a strong strap around your trunk. i It is the xerx thing! I will fasten it to I balcony, and so slip down bv its aid to the ground. Are h willing?” "Perfectly. Di she whispered; , "do you know 1 dd haxe died from fright had you not been there?” “Y es. 1 know: and now. before 1 say ' good-night. I shall mix you a composing draught, and then you must promise me to go instantly to your bed as soon as you take in the strap and close the window. and the last thing, .-wallow the preparation 1 shall leave. Will you do this, in return for my not investigating further xx hat 1 see you do not xvish explained?” Ethel hesitated, then, remembering that she could not s. e Sir Reginald that night, sin- gave the promise. A moment more passed, and then the strap had been fastened, the Doctor had whispered, “Good-night, and God bless you.” and she watched him disappear amid tin* darkness and storm. Darting out, she secured the strap without trouble, fastened down the window. and soon slept under the effects of the anodyne he had so thoughtfully left for her use. Well indeed was it for her that she could sleep, for without some refit she could never h ve borne the terrine citement that awaited her in the tiering hours of the coming day. But wb an " ticipate new troubles? ,\b. why when feintedIv. “Sufficient unto he day is taie eyji thereof.’’ 1 [to be con TIMED. I Girls and Boys. Old Friend —“I s’pose girls are a good deal more expensive to rear than boys, ain't they?” Old Family Man—“W all. they is fer a while, but mos’ generally as soon as a girl marries the expense is through with; but just as quick as a son gits married he wants to borrer all you’ve got.” Railway collisions, from the inability to stop the locomotive, are likely to be made impossible when the electric light is substituted for the oil lamps now in use. Recent experiments prove that the electric headlight casts light from half to three-quarters of a mile ahead. A train going at the rate of sixty miles an hour can thus be stopped in time to prevent any accident. The fool rs pleased with himself, the wise man dissatisfied. Score one for the fool.

human carnage. Slaughter of 2,500,000 Elves in Wrxrs of the Last Thirty Years. According to the estimates of French and German statisticians there have perished in the wars of the last thirty years 2,500,000 men, while there has been expended to carry them on no less than the inconceivable sum of $13,000,000,000. Os this amount France has paid nearly $3,500,000,000 as the cost of the war with Prussia, while her loss in men is placed at 155,000. Os these 80,000 were killed on the field of battle, 36,000 died of sickness, accidents or suicide, and 20,000 in German prisons, while there died from other causes enough to bring the number up to the given aggregate. The sick and wounded amounted to 477,421, the lives of many thousands of whom were doubtless shortened by their illness of injuries. According to Dr. Roth a German authority, the Germans lost during the war 60,000 men killed or rendered invalids and $600,000,000 in money, this being the excess of expenditure or of material losses over the $1,250,000,000 paid by France by wav of indemnity. Dr. Engel, another distinguished German statistician, gives the following as the approximate cost of the principal wars of the last thirty years: Crimean war, $2,000,000,000; Italian war of 1859. $300,000,000; Prusso-Dauish war of 1864, $35,000,000; war of the rebellion (North), $5,100,000,000 (South), $2,300,000,000; Prusso-Austrian war of 1866, $330,000,000; Russo-Turkish war, $125,000,000; South African wars, SB,- i 770,000; African war, $13,250,000; Servo-Bulgarian war, $176,000,000. All these wars were murderous in the extreme. The Crimean war, in which few battles were fought, cost 750,000 lives, only ,>O,OOO less than were killed or died of their wounds, North and South, during the War of the Rebellion. The figures, it must be remem bered, are German, and might not agree : precisely witli American estimates. The Mexican and Chinese expeditions cost -.200,000,000 and 65,000 lives. There were 2.>0,000 killed aud mortally wounded during the Russia-Turkish war, and 45,000 each in the Italian war of 18.>9 and the war between Prussia and Austria. In the other wars the loss I of life xyas relatively less, which did not | make either the men or money easier j to part with in the more limited acres । where they occurred. And this is but a part 'f the accounting, since it dees not include the millions expended during the last twenty tears in maintaining the vast armaments of the European Powers, the losses caused by the stoppage of commerce and manufactures, and the continual derangement of industries bv the abstraction from useful employment of so many millions of persons held for a period of military service extending from । three to five years.— San I'ranciaco Chronicle. she Maile a Cruel Mistake. A maiden lady much civen to entertaining poets, tenors, and the celebrities j of the day, is no longer young, but still j full vs sentiment, and not above falling violently in love with a man who caii strike high C. or write Swinburnian verses.. Last season she had an Italian Realist Rere. lie was jealously guarded ; by an old Wife. One Sunday evening I he and she gorged themselves with the I dainty viands. After the dinner was i over, and as the guests were about passing into the drawing-room, Miss F. said to her colored butler: "That xvas the signor’s plate, wasn’t it?” The dusky factotum nodded his head. “Well, gather up those cherry pits and save them for me.” Again the dark-skinned Ethiope smiled and bowed. Tbe next day Miss F. took the cherry I ■ pits to her jeweler and gave directions j to have them made into a bracelet. A I few days ago the singer returned to ; New York. Miss F. made haste to call j upon his xx ife taking good care to choose ’ an hour when the husband would most ■ likely beat home. She had the good ■ fortune to find him in the bosom of his I , family, and. in spite of the cigarette I smoke and odor of garlic. Miss F. : poured out her soul to the gifted artist. ! xvhile his wife was engaged in conversa- ‘ tion with other guests. “Look, signor,” she whispered, as she : displayed her unique bracelet; “do you i remember the little dinner at my house? 1 AYell, that bracelet is made of the stones I of the cherries eaten by you that even- I ing.” “Cherries? Eaten by me?” exclaimed I the Italian. “A thousand pardons, i madame. 1 abominate the fruit. Oh, ( I detest cherries, but my wife adores । them, and she always leaves a big pile ' of these little builets. It is wonderful I how many she can eat, especially when ' they are brandied-eherries. ’ Miss F. hasn’t worn that unique ; bracelet since she received this piece of ■ information. Haviiiy: Soli<! Comfort. “Why is it.” said an observer to a De- । troit Free 1 / ess man, “why is it that a i man always has a tendency, when he ' is after solid comfort, of getting his feet ' higher than his head ?” “Give it up.” “It’s a fact, nevertheless,” went on ! the speaker, “aa all men can testify. [ No man thinks he is having real solid i comfort if he has to sit in a room where ' everything is in apple-pie order. It ; may be because men are naturally care- । less, or it may be that they never know i what to do with their feet and hands. I Men, as a rule, hate ceremony from the i bottom of their hearts. At a wedding j it is the bride who is sweet and smiling, i the groom who is frightened aud un- i comfortable. At a ball the fair bud ' makes the circle of the room easy and ■ graceful, smiling and bowing to her friends, while the gentleman at her side, no matter what may be his outward de- I meaner, is inwardly, let him but con- j fess it, ill at ease and always foreboding ; lest his collar is slipping under his ears, ) his shoes are dusty, his gloves are i cracking up the back, or heaven knows । what else. No, sir, man is seldom at i ease ip tbe midst of order and nice ar- i rangement, whether in the bosom of his ! family or elsexvhere. He wants to get ! his fc®t higher than his head, smoke i and read the paper.. He wants to wade ■

around knee-do ip in old magazines and ' ■ pamphlets; he wants to flick cigar ashes, j without molestation, on the carpet, on | xvmdow sills or on the piano. You ' lave me-t with such a customer before । —5 ou have one, perhaps, right at home? । el., if you have, don’t enter an em- ! argo on his freedom, for of such is hu- i inanity, married life and likewise, let | us hope, the kingdom of heaven.” w ( He Fought for Show. . ^ oe here, you stepped on my foot!” i pardon,” replied the stranger addressed, “I don't think I did.” i les you did, or else you jabbed me ‘ with your elbow.” I don’t believe yon know what vou ! are talking about. I don’t think that I touched you at all.” Il right b O e"a” d ' " d We ' ,e BO ‘ to “Settle it? How?” 1 ight. Yon ve insulted me, and you’ve got to light.” “Rut I don’t want to tight. I’ve got nothing to light about.” “Well, I have. Come, git in shape,” and before the surprised stranger could get out of the way lie caught it “bill” under the eye. The lighting man danced around him and yelled, “Put up! put up!” The stranger made a weak attempt to defend himself, but the fighter planted a whack on his jaw that brought him to the dirt. ‘‘Git up now, neighbor; my honor is satisfied,” he exclaimed as he assisted the fallen man to his feet. “I never allow an insult to pass unsatisfied.”

The stranger walked oil rubbing his head, and the fighter explained to a bystander : “I come to town this morning with my gal, and I asked her if we should get hitched, seein’s we was in | town and had a chance. She said she didn t know about that, as all her folks was fighters from way back, and she’d never heerd o’me lickin’ anybody; so she sed it 1 could lick some feller she’d | have me, and I have licked him right under her very eyes,for there she stamN ; across the street and seen it all.” The bystander looked and saw a j frowzy-headed mountain girl across the street leaning against an ash barrel. "An’ say, Mister,” continued the fighter, mebby you let me have a few whacks at you; the other feller jest now warn t very big, and possibly she don t think I’ve done enough. We ll jest scuttle around an’ I’ll yell and paste you two or three, jist light, but she I won tbe able to tell but what we’re fighting fer fair. We’ll jest fight fer show.” The other man agreed and they squared otl. The fighter let out two or three times, when his opponent let drive and caught iiim a terrific undercut on the chin. “Look here,” panted the I fighter as he spat out a tooth, “this ain’t fair.” “.Ain’t fair, hey? ETcw’s that for fair, then?” and the man plumped him • in the eye so hard that it raised a lump on the back of his head. Biff! whack! “You kin tight a sick man for glory, but i can lick ye worse than you licked my brother.” And he slammed him until ' the would-be lighter yelled murder. His I girl came across the street and pulled him away, and as she led him away, administering sundry shakes, she remarked: “Sim, I’ll marry ye, not be- ; cause you're anything of a fighter, but i beeau-e you’re the biggest gol-durned : fool in the hull State.”-- 'Ferm S/Jt- ! r ‘Beauty Sleep.” It is all nonsense about '’beauty sleep” coming in the hours before midnight. and that the rosy cheeks on the country lass is the reward of retiring at the time when the proverbial pale-faced city girl's evening commences. The late hours of fashionable life would not necessarily scatter the roses from the i । cheeks if the late hour for retiring i could be the same every night without | variation. It s irregular hours and i meals that cause pale and haggard . faces. The handsomest couple I ever 1 saw retired regularly at 11.30, and ali ways indulged in a light lunch just beI fore retiring. They were both pictures !of health. The lady did not look over I 25. though she never hesitated to say i that she was 38 years old. and the liusi band looked at least ten years younger I than lie really was. They were both ; devotees to the laws of health. For years they had allowed nothing to interfere with the regularity of sleeping ' and eating hours. Almost the midI night hour was chosen for retiring, bei cause it allowed them evenings at the । theater and an hour or so at even the i most fashionable receptions. When ; alone in their home they never indulged in an earlier hour, because then it uni fitted them for entertainment of which I they were very fond. — Chicago Herald. Jewelry in America. I It is a false notion that everything i precious in the line of jewe ry is only j found in the Old AVorld. Rock crystal, which admits of such a high polish and which is much used in jexvelry noxv, is j found in large quantities in North CaroI Jina. Virginia. Georgia, and Arkansas. In Maine there is a mountain called Mount Mica, out of which tourmalines to the value of $100,900 a year are taken. Moonstone is found in Vir- ' gnia, and the soil of New Mexico is , ; enriched with sapphires, rubies, and . garnets. The future may see the cities !of this continent surpassing in beauty ■ the Jerusalem of Soiomon. Rest as a Medicine. A physician, writing of rest as a med- | icine, recommends a short nap in the : | middle of the day, for those who can [ take it, as a beneficial addition to the , night’s sleep. It divides the working I lime, gives the nervous system a fresh I hold on life, aud enablesone to do more : than make up for the time so occupied. ! A caution is given against the indulgi ence of too long a sleep at such a time, i under a penalty of disagreeable relaxa- ■ tion. There has been much discussion ; regarding the after-dinner nap, many I believing it to be injurious, but it is, | nevertheless, natural aud wholesome. — ; Pittsburgh Dispatch. __ A Lucky Girl. Maud—Clara Highfiy is just the luckj iest giri. i Edith—She has many lovers? Maud ever so many, and siie has only I one little brother, aud he was ! brought up in Paris, and doesn’t know I a word of English. - .Veiu 1 'ork Weekly

HIE SUNDAY SCHOOL thoughts worthy of calm reflection. A Pleasant, Interesting, and Instructive Lesson and Where it May Be found—A Learned anil Concise Review of tlie Sam#. I The lesson for Sunday. Feb. 1, may be ; ound In I. Kings 1!): 1-18. | Golden Text—“ Fear not, for I am xvith bee, and will bless thee.”—Gen. 26: 24. INTRODUCTORY. Elijah at Horeb folloxvs directly upon I ‘dijah at Carmel: and this is not only so of ■ he lesson before us but in all Christian . ‘xperienee. We run the whole track of ..he । loly Land from Dan to Beersheba in our ■ >ersonal relations with God and his truth, , md often the transition is as sudden and as . addening as here with Elijah. Especially nay it be so xvith many a pastor, teacher. >r Christian worker who, coming forth i rom special seasons of the outpouring of i rod s Spirit, finds hearts still rebellious and I 'esentfu! Possibly this lesson may find not : i few under the Juniper tree. Then let the ' m es Gon be heard as it is spoken to its, inI o' idually, -What doest thou here/” WHAT THE LESSON SAVS. Ahab told. The word literally means to I ept'esent. to bring to the front. Doubtless ,j 1 v l ‘ry vivid and realistic account. Jeze- ! >el. She and her special oeaihen propheis. Gdiey of “the groves.” Ashtoreth (I. Kings * bad. it seemed, stayed away. r r-lijah hail done. The divine side overcoked: considered merely a wrestle of nan with man, and so retaliation resorted I ! —V Itlial. In the Hebrew the expresl don is the same as that which introduces . ; he preceding clause, i. e.. all that Elijah i fail ..one anil all that he had slain, which

| s equivalent to, all about how Elijah had wrought and all about how he had slain, etc. I Sent. The language implies a sudden immlse. It xvas the unthinking impetuosity danger. Solet the gods do to me. etc. | V form of adjuration common among the I tations of the day. See Ruth 1:17. But j tsed likewise by the Hebrews. Sec 1. Sam. J: 17 (Eli to Samuel). Thy life. i. e.. the I ireath of life, vital principle. As much as j o say. you are as good as dead—you are a I lead man! j When he saw. The Hebrew here is tersely p.xpressive. He saw. and arose, and went. ; For his life. Os which she had just j spoken, in ominous words. Beersheba. । Mmost a hundred miles off to the south. He himself. Alone and unattended puling himself farther and farther from men. WHAT THE I ESSON TEACHES. 1 And Ahab told Jezebel. There are txvo i -eports of our deeds. God's people and i -atan's people alike talk them over. Every great revival, every great religious novenient, has had its double commentary. It has been spoken of xvith awed joy in the > touse of the righteous; it has likewise been * iroclaimed in the house of sin. When peo>le were trembling and praying* over the I lemonstrations of God's power under a '■’inney, a Knapp, a Jabez Swan, down at, . lie corner grocery or the tavern there I .vere still those who met and laughed, con.ersing over the same things. John the I Baptist xxas a subject of conversation in Herod's household; Jesus and his mighty vorks were also talked of there. The ixorld has its bureau of information, it I ooks very- much as if the secular press '•epresentedit to-day. Take up the averige account of any religious meeting a d loes it not sound as if Ahab were telling lezebei? Thy life as the life of one of them. The world is often provoked to greater antagonism. It seems strange, sad—it almost stuns. Mime great and manifest work of God has >een wrought, or it may be some unansweri ible truth explained and enforced. We 16ok <> see the effect of it. We ha ve thrown a j thell right into the enemy’s camp, and now ve watch for the white flag of acknowledgnent. Instead comes tbe white puff of mioke betokening a vengeful ansxvering (hot. O. the world is strongly intrenched n its xvickedness; it refuses to confess de- . eat. Our demonstration of its lost and unione condition but seems, a£ tim^, to anger X —Unt let as non be d-^'crunl nr. I "or those are buT svinptonjh of , 1 lition. its need. Eve^i after in-ist' i' proven his divinity, it xvould seem, jucohrovertibly, they went about t > kill him. Even after he burst the bars of the grave ind arose they suborned men to cover up he truth. Be assured, this is a wicked ivorld: sin is strong; only God is stronger. Arise and eat. God uses very homely nedicine for tbe soul—bread and meat. When the young girl came struggling back i ,o life he commanded that something be . riven her to eat. When the disciples met aim there in the twilight at the seaside, itingry and spent xvith their all-night- toil. ie had some fish baking for them on the •oals. He often feeds our heaven-born spirts xvith quite earthly viands, and that in >rder that we may go on heaven's errands. I -Then the angel flew to touch Isaiah's lips with a cleansing coal he took it u,>, you will ' nark, “from off the altar,” there in the emple. He did not need to bring a miracilous lotion from heaven xhe things pro- • ided on earth are enough. Are we disleartened, tired, undone? God says take ■ ,he ordinary nourishments furnished and ro humbly and gladly about the every-day work. Here is food for the body, and breail 'or the soul. They are always with us. After the fire a still, small voice. God wmetimes speaks to us in trumpet notes, as n calamity; sometimes with the tongue of ire. as in the great awakening; but oftener. mil indeed in all the time of wind and •arthquakes and fire, it is in the still, small ,-oice of God's Spirit, wooing men fndi- . idually. that the work of grace is wrought. This is the voice that speaks through all .he year and not during the season of proracted services only: through all the week, md not simply in the formal assemply of he Lord’s day: through all tbe life and iving, and not simply through the direct । ternion, the testimony, or the appeal. The ! ire has its effect; it is God’s fire, but after ' he fire there must be the stilL small voice. That does the work, Y'et I have left me seven thousand in sraei. That “still, small voice” has been speaking and not in vain. It has been re■eiving. as it were, still, small voices in re•ponse which presently shall break forth uto open and united praises That is what >ur prayer-meetings, young people’s meetngs, after-meetings, revival services are ’or. They are not so much to sound a new md awakening voice as to bring out into >pen profession those to whom, in varied । ways and at times perhaps unthought, the I rentle voice of tbe Spirit has been speak- ■ ng. God knows his sheep. They are scattered everywhere in Chistian lands of | >urs; and he sends us to seek them. One if the Lord’s oxvn prophets has recently j seen called to his reward, one xvho ever : spoke with a singularly soft and persuasive ! roice, John Peddie, of Philadelphia. And ; ve are glad to recall, as the last pul- : lit utterance heard by us from his lips. I >his sweet, reassuring words: “But yet in it shall be a ienth, and it Dall return, and shall be eaten; as a teil i ree, and as an oak, whese substance is in i hem, when they cast their leaves: so the ■ iolv seed shall be the substance thereof.” । Next week.—Ahab's Covetousness. I. । xings 21: 1-16. Signatures of Celebrities. Loavf.ll and Higginson write fine lands, indicating refinement and painsj ;aking. Mrs* Frank Leslie's signature has {jotliing weak about it, yet it is graceful i ind ladylike. ! W. M. Rossetti and Christina G. Rosetti write unaffectedly—plain, neat ; -pistles on plain, white note. । There arc few plainer signatures I,han the round chirography of the poet (Longfellow, lie wrote beautiful mauu--1 cript and private letters