Bloomington Telephone, Volume 10, Number 11, Bloomington, Monroe County, 2 July 1886 — Page 2

THK OLD HOMESTEAD"

BT XUQEH B VJJBXJ,

Jm u atween the awk' ard lines ft hand we lore

has penn'd AvDears a meanin' hid from other ores.

o In your simple, homespun art, old honest

ran nee Mend, A power o' tearful, sweet sesffestion lies.

We see it all the pictnr' that our mem'ries hold

so drar The homestead in New England far away.

An the vision is so nat'ral-iike we almost seem

so hear The voices that were heshed hut yesterday.

Ah, who'd ha9 thonght the mnsic of that distant

childhood time

Would sleep through all the changeful, hitter

years

To waken into melodies like Ghris'mas hells

a-chime An' to claim the ready tribute of our tears I

Why, the robins in the maples an the blackbirds

round the pond. The crickets an' the locusts in the leaves.

She brook that chased the trout adown the hill

side just beyond.

An' the swaUers in their nests beneath the

eaves

Vtosy all come troopin' back with yon, dear Un

cle Joan, to-day.

An' they seem to sins with all the joyous rest

Of the days when we were Yankee boys an Yan

kee girls at play, With nary thought of "livin way out West 1

God bless ye. Benman Tboxnps'n, for the good y

do our Hearts

With this music an these memories ov youth

sjod bless ye for the faculty that tops all human

arte The good el' Yankee faculty of Truth I Chicago New.

Martello take a look ai the case, and see if it could be the fever? Miss Martello followed up-stairs with aching limbs. She was more weary than she had realized. She took a brief survey of the sick stranger, then she said aside quietly: "Perhaps if you will leave me alone with her, I can find out the trouble." When the door had closed on the other, she sat down on the bedside and took a feverish hand in her own. "Are you in pain?" she asked, in a very kind voice. A pair of heavv evelids were raised, a

pair of beautiful sea-blue eyes returned

her gaze.

A voice of anguish even of despair

replied to her.

"I am sufferinff torment. I think I must

have died and gone to n i, TT- m .at .. .. ...

-jiusni" tne other stormed ner witn ft

gentle reproach. "Can't I help vou in

some way? You can trust me. I am I

have been a nurse for weeks. I am rest

ing now off duty!" She had begun to

stroke the feverish hands. She ceased and

laid her palm upon the forehead of the

girl before her. smoothing back the heavy

mass of auburn hair. It was no common

for a iViia Vtcvra It aw t jwvmTYivn Vtamifvf

The pure complexion, the perfect features,

the beautiful sea-blue eves! She felt her

heart go out strangely to this unknown

sufferer.

"There is no trouble," she resumed after

"Will you tell me the name of yourloverl Surely you see you can trust me." "His name is Marshall. Lawrence Marshall." "His wife's name was Agnes?" "Yes. How did you know? Did you evei live in " "I knew them once a long time ago. He was good to her. And she she worshiped him. He had a fickle nature. H left her alone and went to another city. Occasional?? he came home on a visit. H wrote her constantly. Then sh found it all out. She heard about the girl he was in love with. She cast him out oi her heart. She knew she would never aei over it she would carry the load to hei

grave; but she gave him up. He does nol know where Bhe is now. If he told you he

aid, he lied. w bhe is not an

unkind woman. I think she would sympa

thize with you. I think she does,

J. wo wrongs do not make a right. ir you

wish, I will tell Agnes Marshall when J

see her that vou love him more than she

does; tat he loves you; that she will be doing a womanly part to set him free." Silence ensued, broken only by the sobs of the other.

"Tell her so, if you like. Tell her I did

not know. Tell her I tried to die!" "I will tell her," Miss Martello answered, dreamily. "I will tell her all" She did not stay much longer after that. She went down again and talked with the landlady, arraneiner that everything be

- (j ii v

BXACTT IN NATURK. er is beauty in tbe spring-time, In tbe budding of tbe nowars ; There is beauty in tbe bird songs Echoing through the leafy bowers. Beauty in the laughing streamlet, Eippling o'er its pebbly bed. Beauty in the fleecy cloudlets In the spring-time sky o'erhead. There is beauty in the rain-drops Kittening on the dripping trees, Brty in the waving flowers. Fanned by every -wayward breeze; In the river's placid bosom. Where are mirrowed cloud and sky. Beauty in the song-bird soaring Through the ether blue on high. There beauty in the autumn. With its brightly-tintd leaves, Beauty in the few pale flow 'rets Over which the zephyr grieves. Beauty In the snow of winter, White and spotless, pure and cold; Beauty when the wintry sunlight Casta o'er all a glow like gold. Yes, there's beauty in all nature. In all seasons as they flyBeauty in the fields about us. Beauty in the azure sky ; Beauty, whether Mav-day sunshine floods tbe earth with glory bright, Or the sparkling snow of winter Wraps the earth in mantle white.

MISS MARTELLO.

BT I1U1Y CUBBY.

tf4; tKi a done for the comfort of the girl upstairs

that it may not be alleviated or at least sym

pathized with bv those who have also

suffered."

The other flunc her hands up wildly

her beautiful little dimpled, childish hands.

"lhere is no alleviating no sympathiz

ing with such trouble as . mine. Only let

me die onlv let me die! I tried to die

she explained.

quarrel. Do the best vou can. I think I

shall have to go back to the hospital. She may have to 6tay a day or two. It is nothing serious or contagious, her illness. I will send word to friends of hers. She left the woman somewhat relieved; left the hotel and passed back to the rail

way station, where she entered the tele-

au WAn irrtW suniun, wuere HUG cmereu me

the truth! I drank 'poisoned it did not

kill; it onlv dragged me for a time!"

"So bad as that?" Miss Martello

spoke with long pauses between her words.

"Foot child!" she said with infinite com-

Ahce is ill at the Willow House, this

town. Take care of her as you would have heaven judge you. A.M. will never see or trouble you again. You can make the

- ..... I mOtJ-AV AftAl ft 4- 1.M1 . nt r. k.A.

know!" When she had paid for the telegram she

TV, a rtfi, v;i pas6ea to the door and went out into the

"If you know! you know. I am suffering h of the setting sun.

so and for no fault of mine. How could I

know? How could he deceive me 60?M

"You loved some one?" Miss Martello

asked, softly. "And he was false. R is

hard to love and to lose. I loved my

husband and I lost him!"

She spent the night at the hotel, sitting

throughout the evening with the sick stranger, who was hardly stranger now. Alice was the name. Alice Farrinorton.

successor to Agnes Marshall in Lawrence Marshall's affections! Miss Martello spoke

The heantifnl 1o n iha iw r.c cheerfully to the girl.

vulsed with pain for an instant. Its pos- " you love so deeply, and are lovea in

sessor sobbed tearlessly. lclum Jfl ?aiu wme wm onn recom-

PCUBC. J. (UO lb UXllZlllXVI llXiUX UII tJlBG

A pale young woman with jet-black hair

cot short behind her ears and heavy circles

about her eyes, as if from long and weary - r ! a 1 t mm

-vigixs; quieuy aressea in Drown, was waiting slowly as if lost in thought! Miss Mar

tello was either already ill, or, as the head

doctor had predicted, "coming down" with the fever. That was why they had turned Jier out of the hospital, she said to herself, smiling bitterly the while. She was unable to perform her duties. But even as she -mid this, other thoughts came forcing "themselves upon her, in the same connection. The voice of the doctor who had o brusquely given her marching orders, had it been quite steady? Had not his hand closed upon her own with a painful pressure as, at the final moment, he flung out a breathless sort of "God bless you! no other nurse can take your place!" She remembered this parting in a languid way, s she walked down from the hospital toward the village center, and she realized her own languid state. It might be true that she was falling: ill; but she felt no fear. Only if it were so, it seemed a little hard that she should have been sent away; that she should not have been permitted to remain and rest upon a cot like otners, some ol whom were yet there, some of whom had gore forth to the free air living or dead. Ah, how many hands she had folded, and wished they were her own! The sun shone brightly on the fields growing green again in the mild spring atmosphere, brightly on the brown mountain sides, brightly n the flowing river! The brightness of the landscape was dazading. One glance at the clear sky was enough to blind her. She walked on with drooping head, and thought of the sodtess hillside graves of yesterday and yesterday's yesterday. She had grown so used to death :an the past month that it held no further terror. Her head was heavy, and her ideas tseemed confused. She hardly knew what she meant to do. The doctor's words re eurred to her at intervals. "0et out of this region as quickly as team will carry yon. If you want to come back in a week or two, ail right. But I hope the worst will be over then. Fresh coses are getting fewer every day." She kept on her way down toward the willage center. The greenness of the fields and the glory of the springtime's earliest yellow bloom swam pasther as she walked. The picket fences seemed to sway; there ras even a suspicion of movement in the wery plank sidewalk she trod. She thought seriously about this, as the houses came eloser together. Over the village hung a shadow that no un might conquer. The shadow of the plague that swept life after life before it, and darkened alike the

threshold of the humble and the prosper as. The quiet was oppressive. Scarcely wagon moved along the spring-soft roads. Scarcely a hoof clicked against an occasional stone. The stores were neai ly mpty. The postoffice had a few seriousfaced loungers in the doorway. Miss Martello did not go in. She passed on, with head still drooping. The words that fell upon her ear were dull and meaningless. uOne of the nurses from the hospital," said somebody, "looks pretty bad, too." Then she knew without turning toward them that, moved with ' some common impulse, the men had uncovered one and all. The railroad station was but a short distance beyond. She kept on toward this. A solitary engine switching empty freight cars np and down the tracks, was the only thing suggestive of Hfe. The station was empty; the ticket-office closed. She scanned the time-table, and saw that no train would leave within an hour. She went to the door and looked across the tracks at the railroad hotel, which was also the chief house of the town. A moment later she had crossed over and was entering the parlor. She thought she would rest awhile and think where to go or what to do. The landlady's voice sounded suddenly at her ear, like the voice of distress when aid i at hand. "Thank heaven you're here, Miss Martello! Miss Martello turned and looked up Siestioninoly. It was not surprising that e woman knew her. Everyone seemed to know her; "What is it?" she asked, forgetting her lassitude for the moment. It was quickly told. A stranger who had arrived that morning was ill, terribly ill. It was a young ladv, well-dressed, quite -pretty, and without baggave. There was something strange about u. Would Miss

'.But my lover is not dead not dead!

He loved me I am sure he loved me. But

he deceived me. He won mv heart and vet

he was not free. O. God! Te think of

that! He asked me to be his wife and vet

ne was already married! But I did not

know! How could I know? Off in another

city was another woman another who bore

his name!n

Miss Martello stopped stroking the

pretty, childish hand she held. Her heart

even death!"

And Alice Farrington fell asleep, faintly

comforted at least.

Late the following afternoon, Miss Mar

tello in the stillness of the hotel parlor

heard a voice the voice of a new-comer standing in the hotel office across the hail.

As she heard it, she rose slowly and with

trembling limbs, and dragged herself to

the window, where she mieht stand look-

seemed to pause, as if awaiting some fatal out and so avoid the possibility of her

tnrust. "Well?" uh Askd in a vniee tbat at- W1UB .

sounded to herself far-off and almost like another person's.

lhat was all, the other moaned feebly.

"That was all. A year a lone, lone vear

I loved him; we were to be married. Then

this news was brought me. I thought I

should go mad! For three days I bore it;

I threw myself down on the floor in my

room and no one dared come near me.

At last1! got away I came away off here to

die among strangers. O. why couldn't I

die?"

Miss Martello made no reply. She sat

looking away from the bed. Her eyes were

A moment later, the landlady hurried in

and caught her arm.

He s come; the young lady s sweet

heart."

Miss Martello seemed swallowing some

thing.

"Take him to her," she said in a frozen

way, wnicn ine woman was tortunaieJy too

excited to observe. "But first let me go

and prepare her. Keep him in the office.

I can slip upstairs ahead. I do not wish to see him."

When she had spoken a word of counsel

to Alice Farrinsrton. she did not linerer.

fixed upon the window, where the afternoon but slipped into her own room which was

sun e hone vellow and tender. But her

gaze pierced the glass and went far beyond far beyond and far away beyond the

mountain-walls.

Some time elapsed ere she spoke again.

There was a great change upon her. She

felt it herself and wondered if the sick girl

felt it. It seemed as if a coldness had come over her and chilled her to stone.

She hesitated to speak. Her voice would

sound dispassionate. Derhaus nnsvmna-

"The the wife of vour lover," she said

slowly. "Did did she love him. vou

think?"

"O, I don't know! How could she love

him. He didn't love her he didn't "

"How do you know" Miss Martello in

terrupted in curious breathlessness "how do you know he didn't?"

"Why how could he?" The woman with

the beautiful face and tangled locks of auburn started up, leaning on her elbow as

6he cried out this wondering thought.

Then she fell back weakly. "A man can

not love two at once. And he loved me!"

The woman with the pale face and

smooth black hair, and dark-circled eyes,

bowed her head for a moment.

INo, sne said in low acquiescence, wa

man cannot love two at once. There is but one love. And j-ou did not

know that he was married. Did he ever

did he speak at all of her of this wife

whom he did not love?"

"I have not seen him since," the other

moaned. "I have not seen him since. I

shall never never see him again. "

Miss Mortello s face had grown still

whiter.

"Don't sob so," Bhe said. "Is there is

there no hope for you? Do you not think

the the wife will separate from him le

gally? You could marry him, then."

"Mv religion forbids," the other checked

her sobs, "my religion forbids. I am a Catholic. But there is no hope, even of that. She loves him, I suppose. I heard she had found out some time before. I heard a good many things, but I don't suppose they were true." "You don't know then how she looked or what kind of a woman she was? She probably was not as beautiful as you, or he never would have stopped loving her." "Stopped? He never loved her. He swore to me the day I found it out. He never loved her!" Miss Martello spoke up sharply; her words ran together and were of piercing

quality: "Don't say that! In heaven's name don't say that!" The sea-blue eyes regarded her strangely. "Why, what is it to you? Miss Martello arose and walked away from the bed. "Ah, indeed," she said, having grown very quiet again. "What is it to me?" She stood a moment at the window looking out, then returned to the bedside and resumed her seat. " What would you like me to do for you?" she asked. "Can I get you anything?" aNo 'hing! Only let me die." The beautiful face buried itself in the pillow." "I don't want to live any longer. They told me I could live it down but I enn't. "Are you quite sure," Miss Martello spoke very calinly, 'are you quite Bure the wife would not desire a separation? Are your religious scruples stronger than your your love for this man?" "O, it isn't only myself. My family would never hear to it nevor. They would disown me. " "Then" Miss Martello's voice held a faint scorn "then the only thing is for the other woman to die, I suppose, and leave the place vacant for you. Your religion wouhl not object to that!" "O, I never was so wicked. I never could wish for anyone to die anyone but myself."

She put up her bonnet,

opposite, xne transoms were open over

either door. She heard his footsteps in the

hall. They sounded to her, as, she fancied,

footsteps of the sheriff sound to the

criminal who waits to be led out to death.

She heard the door across the hall open

and close; the glad sobbing of the other

woman, the love-words that he was utter-

ing. J nen sue reii on ner Knees ana covered her ears so she should not hear.

"Death," she said, "this is death! Yet,

better that only one should suffer, than

that three be tortured."

She remained kneeling so a long time.

The afternoon passed and darkness came

nnon her. Some one came and knocked,

but she had locked the door on closing it.

She was 6afe.

When it had been dark a long, long

time, she heard the voice of the landlady.

"Mibs Martello. Ain't you coming down

for some supper? The young folks have had theirs and taken the train back to the citv. They're not cone half an hour."

Miss Martello arose weakly and opened

the door. Her brain was whirling, throb-

y. Her face was burning; her hands

icy.

"They are gone;" she repeated vaguely.

The woman answered volubly: "Yes, and

the young lady left good-bye for you, and

I was to tell you she said she guessed it

would come all right by'n-by, and she hoped to have you visit her when she was

married. She said she would write to

you. 4;Yes?" said Miss Martello. her hands and straightened

which had rot been removed. "I think I will take a cup of tea," she said, "and then go up to the hospital. They may need me." There was a strange scarlet in her thin face. Her dark eyes looked unearthly. She drank the tea in haste, and started out. She knew she must be ill. She could not walk steadily; her limbs were weak, her head swam. Nausea overpowered her. "Back to the hospital," she said over and over as she walked. "Perhaps I huve done wrong. I!ut there is only one to sutler. And I was strongest tbe best able." A spring rain iiatl begun to fall. The wind had risen and blew fiercely in her face. She staggered on in the darkness. Sometimes she heard voices; his -oice, the voice of Alice Farrington, the words of the woman who kept the hotel. Left good-bye for you, and I was to tell you she gue; sed it would all come right byn-by. and she hoped to have you visit her when she was married!" She staggered on blindly through rain and wind, and fell exhausted at the hospital doorway. Some one brought a light and looked down upon her. It was the head doctor. "Great God!" he cried. And she hod only strength to murmur faintly: "I have come back. You must take me in!" Somebody says: I know the rest. She lny ill for weeks. The doctor nursed her back to health and they fell in love and married. Alas, no! Such things happen in 6tories perhaps, but it was different in this case. One night, toward the last, when the fever had burned out and her strength was ebbing thereafter, she asked for paper and pen and wrote these .few words: "Bo happy. I may have done wrong. 1 did it for the best" "Agnbr MAESHAU-(Mis9 Martello)." They were intended for Alice Farrington. Then she fell asleep; and when morning came the sunlight Bhone upon her bed and found her still sleeping, a Bleep that should not be broken. But Lawrence Marshall and Alice Farrington were happy.

Some Facts About Suppers

About suppers then : only those who

dine early require anything of the sort.

As I believe and trust that most of my

readers are early diners,the few remarks I have to make about the evening meal

may not be thrown away.

Weli, then, it is alact, wmcii no one

would attempt to gainsay, that the

stomach must have an interval of rest between each meal. The period of

rest should be granted to it gratuitously.

It should not require to take it. But

mark me: it will do so if weary. If we

might personify the stomach, we could

imagine it saying to the owner:

"That mid-day meal was far too heavy

it was more than I could manage ; I

have worked away for four hours, and

have not yet completed digestion ; there is still food here that needs to be reduced to chyme, but mv iucies are ex-

pended : mv nervous and muscular en-

ergies are exhausted : I can do no more. "

And what is the result? Why, that

a portion of indigestible food remains

in the stomach, or passes through the

pyloric opening, unreduced to chyme,

fermenting and causing acidity, flatulenoa eructations, and many indescrib

able ti-elmgs of discomfort. Bnfr the mischief does not end here,

for by-and-by comes supper time. The

mistaken notion that it is the correct thing to eat at regular times, whether

hungry or not, prevails, and more food

finds its way into that unhappy stom

ach. Everybody knows what a ferment

is. Well, in eating before the stomach

is quite unloaded, you are mixing good

food with that which is digesting. Can you wonder if a restless night follows or a night of lethargy rather than

sound sleep that you toss and tumble,

or either wake too soon, without the capability of going to sleep again, or doze longer than usual, and get up at

last with a heavy head and au irritable temper? But stay, though ; perhaps you have an appetite for supper. Have you? What ! despite the hearty dinner you discussed? Very well; if after that dinner you took a good spell oi exercise in the open air, or if you had some lengthened pleasurable excitement, such as enjoying the conversation and company of friends, then this appetite of yours may be a wholesome one. But, on the other hand, if you enjoy yourself doing positively nothing after dinner ; if you have never left the house, nor breathed a gallon of pure fresh air, then I say ten to one your appetite is a false one a btdlimic one born of a slight degree of nervous irritation, not to sav fever. "Bullimic" is a technical word, I know, and 1 am going to explain it. "Bnllimia," then, is an unnatural craving for food. One may suffer from, a slight attack of it now and then, or it may become chronic, and is then known to the profession as "bullimic dyspepsia." The patients suffer from hunger; and unless they eat immediately after the desire for food comes on, they get faint and low-spirited, and especially complain of a painful sense of sinking

about the region of the heart and stomach. The desire for food returns almost immediately after a good meal (Dr. Guipon). I may say parenthetically that the most useful remedies for this kind of dyspepsia are minced raw

neer, cnarcoal, cod-liver oil, and pepsnae, with occasional mild aperients if the system cannot be kept free by the matutinal tub, open-air exercise, and fruit eaten in the morning. It but remains for me to say that I consider it a nervous affection, and that occasional attacks of it are brought on by errors in diet and dieting. The question is asked constantly of medical men: "What shall I take for. supper?"" The truth is that too much belief is placed in that usually nonsensical saying, "The system must be supported." Nervous invalids or that class of persons whom I called in a former article "only middlings," are constantly engaged "supporting their systems" ; therefore, and in consequence, they give themselves no chance to get well : their who! j lives are spent in one continued ferment of fever. Were thev onlv to reduce the diet for even a week or fortnight, and to eat and live by rule, they would be simply astonished at the Change, and would ask our editor to thank the "Family Doctor" for his suggestions. Family Doctor, in Caa&eWs Magazine. A Blot on American RLsloryIn 1846 came- the American waar and invasion, when the United States with "one fell swoop,"" as it were, took from Mexico considerably more than one-half of all its territory 923,835 square miles out of a former total of 1,690,317. It is true that payment was tendered! and accepted for about one thirty-fourth part (the Gladsden purchase) of what was takeax but appropriation tmxt acceptance of payment were alike compulsory. For this war the judgment of all impartial history will undoubtedly be that there was no justiiieaftion or good reason on the part of the United States. It may be that what happened was an inevitable outcome of the law of the survival ef the fittest, as exemplified among nations; and that the contrasts as seen to-day between the life, energy, and tierce development o much of that part of Old Mexico that became American California, Texas and Colorado and the stagnant, povertystricken condition of the contiguous territory Chihuahua, iSonora, Coahuila that remained Mexican, are a proof of the truth of the proverb that "the tools rightfully belong to those who can use them." But, nevertheless, when one stands beside the monument erected at the foot of Chapultepec, to the memory of the young cadets of the Mexican Military School mere boys who, in opposing the assault of the American columns, were faithful unto death to their flag and their country, and notes the sternly simple inscription, "Who fell in the North American invasion" ; and when we also recall the comparative advantages of the contending forces the Americans audacious, inspirited with continuous success, equipped with an abundance of the most improved material of war, commanded bv most skilled officers, and backed with an overflowing treasury ; the Mexicans poorly clothed, poorly fed poorly armed, unpaid, and generally led by uneducated and often in

competent commanders; and remember the real valor with which, under such circumstances, the latter, who had received so little from their country, resisted the invasion and conquest of that country; and that in no battle of modern times have the losses been as great comparatively as were sustained

by the Mexican forces there is cer

tainly not much of pleasure or satisfaction that sober-minded, justice-lovirvg citizen of the United States can or ought to find in this part of his country's history. And, if we are the great, magnanimous, and Christian nation that we claim to be, no time ought to be lost in proving to history and the world our right to the claim, b providing, by act of Congress, that all those cannon which lie scattered over the plains at West Point, bearing the inscriptions "Vera Cruz, " " Contreres, " " Chapultepec, w "Molino del Key, and "City of Mexico," and some of which have older insignia, showing that they were originally captured by Mexican patriots from Spain in their struggles for liberty; together with every captured banner or other trophy preserved in our national museums and collections, be gathered up and respectfully returned to the Mexican people. Hon. David A. Wells, in Popular Science Monthly. Cocaine in Optical Operations Although cocaine has been known for a good many years, and has from time to time formed the subject of inquiry among distinguished British and con tinental savants, it was reserved for Dr. Carl Koller, of Vienna, to demonstrate the practical use to which its marvelous property coui'd be put. It occurred to this gentleman that the drug might be of use in the department of diseases of the eye. With this object in viewj he experimented upon the eyes of animals, applying the drug in solutions of certain strength, and carefully noting the results. He found that in the course of a few moments, after the drujr had been

instilled several times into the con

junctival sac of an animal, the organ became insensible ; that he was able to touch the cornea the front part of the eve, which is endowed with extreme

sensibility with a pin without the least flinching on the part of the animal. Experimenting: further, he ascertained

that the insensibility was not confined

to the superficial parts of the eye, but

that it extended throughout the cor

neal substance, even to the structures

within the ocular erlobe, and thus the

fact so far of the utility of the drug for

operative purposes came to be established. Then he turned his attention

to cases in which the eye was the seat

of disease, and the cornea acutely inflamed and painful, and he found that much relief from th-e symptoms was obtained by the use of the drug. Soon

after this he commenced to employ

cocaine in operations perfoiTned upon the eves of patients. The results were

highly satisfactory; and since then cat-

araets nave been operated on, squinting eves put straight, foreign bodies upon

the corners removed painlessly and with

ease under the influence of the drug.

In cataract, especially, cocaine is of

great value ; this operation can be per-

formed by its means without the slightest sensation of pain, and vet the patient

is fully conscious, and is, of course, able

to follow, during its performance, the precise instructions of the suigeemChambers? Journal.

Wiy Major Went to Church I once visited a pleasant couaatryhouse, the owner of which had a powerful and sagacious dog called Major. This dog was highly prized by his master and by the people of the neighborhood. He had saved many lives, Once when a swing -rope became entangled around the neck of a little girl, Major held her up until help came. One day the butcher brought in his bill for Major's provisions. Major's master thought it altogether too large, and shaking, thie paper angrily at thedog, he said:: "See here, old fellow, you never aall that meat,. did you?" The dog looked "hard at the bill, shook himself all over, regarded the butcher with contempt, and then went buck to his rug, where he stretched himself out wiida a low growl of dissatisfaction. The next Suaaday, just as service began at the village church, into my friend's pew vaulted Major. The Major kept perfectly quiet until, we all arose for prayer ; then he sprang upon the seat,, stood on his hindi4eg$j placed his fore-paw upon the .front oi the pew behiml, and stared gravely and reproachfully into the face of th butcher, who looked very mucli con lifted, aud turned first red and then pale. The wfcele congregation smiled and tittered.. Major's master afe onjee took the dog home. But the butcher was more considerate in his charges from that tiitte. Evidently he felt mortified and conscience-stricken.. Lizzie Hatch, in St. Nicholas.

Men All Alike.

"It is veTv seldom," said the waitress, "that you meet one man uilleremt from the rest. They are all tuned to the same keyr and that key is conceit There isa't a man who comes in here regularly but believes that all us girls are Mead gone' on him. Doesn't matter how old, how poor, or Imw homely the man is, he still thinks that wherever he goes he leaves behind him broken-hearted women. I 'spose you think men come here just to eat. Well, they do, but anybody to look at them would think that their chief purpose was to whisper chitchat to the waitress and look killingly every time she passes. And they are all alike, married or single. If they only knew how tired it makes us, perhaps they would quiL I tell you it is refreshing when, once in a long time, a man comes in who really appears to have come in for the pur pose of having a meal w ho piles into the grub and seems not to mind us any more than if we were men. When that sort of a man strikes the place and leaves it without any of the little flirty tricks of the general run we girls just do admire him, and wouldn't mind if he was a little more sociable." Toronto Mail. The highest perfection of human reason is to know that there is an in finity of truth beyond its rcaek

THE CONFEDERATE GENERALS.

The Occupations at WhJoh Those Who flar ive Am Enpcwli Gen. Marcus J. Wright, an ex-Confederate officer, who has charge of the publication of the rebellion records under the auspices of the war department, says the Cincinnati Enquirer, gives the following as the whereabouts and occupations of the more prominent Generals of the Confederate army: Of the six full Generals appointed by the Confederate Congress only two survive Joseph E. Johnson, now United States Commissioner of Railroads, and G. T. Beauregard, Adjutant General of Louisiana, and Manager of the Louisiana Lottery Drawings. Of the twenty Lieutenant Generals appointed

to the provisional army, several are living, E. Kirby Smith is Professor of Mathamatics in the University of the South, Tennessee, which is an Episcopal institution ; James Longstreet is keeping a hotel down in Georgia, after serving a term there as United States Marshal under President Hayes; D. H. Hill, of North Carolina, was, till recently, President of the Agricultural School of the State of Arkansas, and now earns a living chiefly by magazinewriting. Richard Taylor, son of President Taylor, is engaged in building a canal near New Orleans. Stephen B. Lee is a farmer, and President of the State Agricultural College of Mississippi. Jubal A. Early practices law law at Lynchburg. Of the Major Generals, A. P. Stewart is now President of the University of Mississippi at Oxford, where Secretary Lamar was a Professor at the time of bis election to the United States Senate. Wade Hamptom is in the Senate. Joseph Wheeler is in Congress ; he is very wealthy and one of largest planters in Alabama. John B. Gordon is a millionaire railroad man Gen. Loring, of Florida, was engineering in Egypt until a few years ago, when he came to New York to work at the same profession. B. F. Creatham, Postmaster at Nashville, Tenn. Sam Jones, of Virginia, is in the Judge Advocate General's office. Lafayette MoLaws is Postmaster at Savanaah, Ga. S. B. Buckner lives in Louisville, Ky.f where he owns a great deal of real estate, the revenue of which supports him. L. B. French earns a scanty subsistence by engineering in Georgia. O. L. Stephenson is in Fredericksburg, Va. John H. Forney, brother to Congressman Forney, is in an Insane Asylum at Selma, Ala. Abney H. Maury is Washington agent for a New. York life insurance company. Jolin G. Walker is also in the insurance business here Isaac B. Trimble lives in retirement in Baltimore on a fortune derived from the Trimble whisky. Got. Heath is employed by the government to do engineering on some southern rivers. Cadmus Wilcox was formerly employed about the Senate chamber, bat is now in retirement writing & history of the Mexican war. Fitzhugh Lee is Governor of Virginia. Extra Billy Smith practices law at Warrerifeon, Va. Charles W. Field, once doorkeeper of the House, is Superintendent of the Hot Springs Reservation. William B. Bate is Governor of Tennessee. W. " H. F. Lee is a Fairfax County farmer. C. J. . Polignac, who came over from France, to espouse the Confederate

cause, is back in Paris, busied with immense railroad operations. J. F. Fagan was Marshal of Arkansas under Grant. He is now at Little Block. William Mahone is in the Senate-, as is E. C. Walthall of Mississippi. John S. Marmaduke is Governor of Missouri. Pierce M. B. Young has gone to Bussia as United States Counsul General at St. Petersburg. M. C. Butler is a Senator of the United States. Thomas L. Russell, after making fortune, as attorney for thto Northern Pacific Railroad, has settled down ai

W. Curtis Lee is President of Washington and Lee University, at Lexington,. Va. Ko Light in the Window As the train sped along in the night, with drowsy passengers outstretched upon the seats, the conductor was observed frequently peering out of the frosty window into the darkness. The nhtvwas black, and nothing - could be seen but a sheen of snow over the shadowy landscape, and yet the conductor shaded his eyes with his two handc and held his. face a weary-looking faee ii was too- -close to the window pane. "Looking to see if your girl is awake yet 3 inquired the inquisitive passenger with a coarse laugh. The conductor looked around aad shuddered, as with a husky voice hereplied simply: "Yes.n And then the inquisitive passenger beeame garrulous and familiar; He aai down beside the conductor and poketl him in the ribs as he lightly said : "Ah, I see. Going to get morrkd and quit the road. Going to marry farmer's daughter. Worth moch "She's worth a million to me." Further remarks in a similar iwin did the passenger make, but the conductor deigned no more replies. Suddenly the whistle of the locomotive gave a long, low moan, the conduct stuck his eyes still closer to the- window, seemed to fasten his gaze upon some object in the darkness, and then fell back in his seat with a cry erf despair upon his lips. The passengers gathered round to in quire the nature of the trouble, when the brakeman assisted his chief to rise and led him into the baggage car. The conductor's face was as white as the snow banks which fringed the iron roadway, aud in his eye was a look of tearless grief. "Poor Sam' said the brakeman upon his return, "it's a bad night for him. Four weeks his little girl has been ilL Njght after night he was ather bed, but then she got better and he came back to his train. He arranged with his wife that if all was well with the little one she'd display a lighted lamp right in the window of the sick room. The boys all knew it, and every night we all looked for the light almost aa eagerly as Sam himself. He lives by the side of the track back here a few miles and to-night there was. no ligbi in the window for &ajauGhicaga Herald.