Bloomington Telephone, Volume 14, Bloomington, Monroe County, 31 May 1889 — Page 2

HEK NEIGHBORS.

They lingered at her father's door. The moon "was shining bright. And to tho maiden o'er And o'er The youth had said, "Good-night." Bnt still, reluctant to depart, Her tiny hand he pre&sed, While all" che lore that filled hia heart 1 Bis ardent looks confessed. At length she closer to him crept, Her oyeti upon him bent, And softy asked, "How have yon kept Thua far the fast of Lent?" He smiled, and as a manly arm Around her waist he threw. He eaid, M Ve done no neighbor harmPray, tell me how have you?" Oh, better far, I'm sure," she said, The charming little elf ; I've loved she blushed and bent her head) My neighbor as myself. Who Is yonr neighbor?" questioned he, As to hi; breast he drew The entl3 maid, and, blushing she With ore word answered "You T

Robert Thornton's Ingratitude BY WM. H. 9. ATKINSON. It' was the height of an unusually brisk and successful theatrical season. Managers were happy and financially aflush,w and the members of their sundry and various companies were traveling on express trains and boarding at respectable hotels. One of the strongest drawing cards was Robert Thornton the young star who had loomed up in the dramatic privament and who had in two seasons managed to eclipse the brightness of a hundred older lights. Pi fame and prosperity were more than Assured and his manager divided with him, week by week, enormous sums of money the receipts from crowded and enthusiastic horses. One morning the theater-going public and members of the profession were astounded to read in their morning papers an Associated Press dispatch, as follows: "Mr. Robert Thornton, the eminent young -comedian, has notified his manager that ho will sever his connection with the stage at the end of the present season. Mr, Thornton insists tJiat this statement is not made for effect or for advertising purposes. He says that his decision is positive and final, and that he would cease playing with the close of the present week, were it not for his contract and dates already advertised." Mr. Robert Thornton did indeed keep his word, and so many years have elapsed since his butterfly period of public life, that he is already well-high forgotten. So far, only one person is aware of the true reason of his sndden retirement it remains for us to disclose the secret to whoever will read this narrative. Robert Thornton was (he is yet, for aught I know, as no news of his death has reached me) a genius, a man with a big head and brain, a man with enormous and invin cible willpower, and a born artist. But he was selfish, cold-blooded and calculating to a degree; his mighty intellect -was set of? by a hardened heart and a much-dwarfed souL When Robert Thornton conceived the idea of adopting the stage for a profession he was a young man of twenty the "only son of his mother and she was a

widow," th&t was not all. Robert was )

the son of his mother's old age, for when the boy was twenty his mother was some years more than sixty, and the old lady fairly idolized her u boy. n Instead of hoarding and carefully investing the email amount of money left by a hardworking husband, Mrs. Thornton spent it lavishly upon young Robert rearing him amid every comfort and finally educating him so that he might graduate from a college and enter one of the "learned professions." But before Robert could enter a college the money Mgave out," and the widow and her son were thrown upon the world with Robert for breadwinner. To his credit, be it said, Robert obtained employment and from a salary of fifty dollars a month turned over forty to his mother. The other ten he "invested" systematically for his own benefit. One dollar each week he paid for a lesson in elocution from an old actor who had in generations past won thunders of applause from pit and gallery. Every cent of the balance went for tickets to the theaters and for cheap editions of printed plays. The young man was a natural actor, and knew it. At the end of three years he was an educated and polished comedian, and knew that too. So did a wealthy and far-sighted manager upon whom Thornton called de.manding consideration. Upon his twenty-fourth birthday Robert Thornton signed a two years contract with the wealthy and popular manager, and both the old man and the young beginner felt that their fortunes were than and there assured. Thornton had never displayed much love for hi mother who had done so anuch for bin. She was not only old ; she was old-fashiomed and she was .sadly illiterate. The good woman in her entriety paired upon Robert's cold and unsympathetic nature. He oould not appreciate the blind and answering devotion which was prompted by her motherly instinct any more than she oould understand the humor and subtle points of the leading part which he was to play in a great comedy to be produced for the first time when he should make his debut. The city of Chicago wad literally plastered from center to circumference, with posters, show bills, and dodgers of every possible color and design advertising the new acsor, "Young Mr. Thornton, under the management of T. M. Brill." The newspapers were full of Thornton. His name was seen on the cars, in the store windows, and upon the backs of sandwich men." It was about six o'clock in the evening. At 6 the curtain of the Levity Theater would ring up on the first scene in the American comedy "Collars and Cuffs," wi&h Robert Thornton as the .star. At 6 o'clock Thornton walked into the modest tenement flat, which was his mother s home, and found his mother busy fixing up her Sunday dress. The little eld woman, with her ben ten shoulders and gray hair bespeaking her advancing years, looked proudly at her boy, through her spectacles. But there was no answering smile of affection in ihe young man's countenance. "Mother," he said, coldly almost indifferently "here is a ticket for the show this evening. Of course I cannot take you; perhaps you had better wait lev ihe Bfeattnee op Saturday and go in

the daylight; please yourself. Here aro $10; and I shall send you $10 every week. I cannot; live here any longer; I go on the road in two weeks, and I may as well say good-bye now. And listen, mother. You can write to me at the Grand Pacific if you want i my thing; after I leave the citj I will give you my address. But doj't come and see me; I shall have to bo with big folks and I don't want to be bothered. Good-bye, mother." He did not kiss the kindly face he did not even take the feeble hand that had done ao much for him. He turned on his heel and walked away leaving a stabbed heart behind him. "Young Mr. Thornton" took the city by storm. "Young Mr. Thornton" and his play were an unqualified success, and "Young Mr. Thornton's" room at the Grand Pacific, on the morning after his debut, was a perfect floral bower, by reason of exquisite flowers from his many admirers, while the table was piled up with congratulatory letters and notes. Robert Thornton was as happy as Robert Thornton could be, for not once did he pause to think of a lonely mother, who, with all her pain, and through all her scalding tears, still loved the boy whose success (which she had witnessed from a balcony seat) had filled her aching heart with pride. Nearly two years passed away two years of continued successes in every

city of the country, and once again Robert Thornton was in his native place, the city of Chicago. Tho city was, a3 it had been once before, filled with advertisements announcing the coming of the "phenominal success, Young Mr. Thornton," and the box office at the Levity Theater was thronged'daily with men and women anxious to purchase tickets. Robert Thornton, on his arrival, took up his quarters at the hotel. He intended to go and see his old mother whom he had not once visited in the two years of his popularity. But his callers were numerous aud his time limited, and when the opening night arrived he had not seen his mother. During his absence ha had regularly sent, week after week, ihe ten dollars which he had promised never more and never less. Now and then the money was accompanied by two or three hurried lines, but never by a letter he was tco busy, socially and professionally to write letters. He did find time to send his mother a ticket for the show, and when the curtain went up and the play began there was a little white-haired lady in the front row of the brilliant balcony. Robert Thornton's quick eye detected her, but he gave not the slightest token of recognition. That night theij favorite actor excelled himself and the magnificent audience gave him a perfect ovation. Somehow, in making her war through the immense crowd old Mrs. Thornton stumbled and fell in the entrance-way at the foot of the grand stair-case. She was jostled and trampled upon, and when she was at last rescued from her perlious position, there was very little life left in the good soul. "Policeman," said the younger of two ladies who were about to enter a richly appointed carriage, "that poor woman appears tc .be alone: put her in my carriage." The office did so, and then the lady, who was very young and very beautiful, said to the coachman "James, drive into a quiet street, aud then wait for orders." With much difficulty the kind-hearted girl secured from Mrs. Thornton her address and took her home. Just what she learned from the old lady, I do not know; but I do know that the next day Robert Thornton received a note from that same young lady who took his mother home, and this is how the note read: Mb. Thoentok: I had the good fortune, last evening, of befng able to render a slight service to your mother. At the same time, quite unsought. I learned your true character. As, in my opinion, a heartless son would make a heartless husband, and as I cannot love whore I do not respect. I take a woman's privilege and unhesitatingly break our engagement. Your letters and ring I will return as speedily as possible. Let me add that this is final and conclusive, and I must refuse to see you on any consideration, Lucile El wood." It was on the following morning that the Associated Press dispatch announcing Mr. Robert Thornton's retirement from the American stage, found its way into all the daily papers.

Early Training.

To deplore the lack of so-called early advantages when they have not been enjoyed, and to conclude that if a person has distinguished himself, not having had scholastic training, he would have risen to much greater eminence had he been so trained, is a common conclusion. However, whether or not this conclusion is correct is a question which the apostles of the "new education,' which includes industrial training, would be likely to answer in the negative. In speaking of this to the Rev. Robert CoMyer, says a writer in the Pittsburg Dispatch, Ias-ked him if he did not think that his splendidly sustained strength, both mental and physical, which, under the weight of his 63 years, shows no sign of abatement, wa3 not due to the fact that his vitality had not been impaired by the confinement and routine of school life? He said that he had thought that it was so, and that as the years went on he was better satisfied that his life had been what it was in the earlier as well as the later days. In this connection he told me of preaching in Detroit very soon after he left the forge, when he was "full of force and buriiness to his very finger-tips." He said: "I laid it down to them with a great deal of force, and when I had done one of my hearers, who had lost both health and vitality in striving for college honors, came up to me and said, 'Out upon college anyway; if you had been through college you never could have moved us all as you did.' There must be some plan evolved," continued Dr. Collyer, "by which the mind can be stored without loss either of force or vigor. I think we are working up to that in the schools now. My training was mostly industrial, with very little educati nal. They ate reviving that now, but they will get it just right af tei a time,"

Peculiar Coincidences, Both history and biography aro full of instances of strange coincidences, and a brief mention of some of the most remarkable of them may bo of interest. TIi coincidences in names which are frequently met with are not only curious, but often quite amusing. Ifc'is odd that one of the most noted of American physicians should have rejoiced in the uncommon name of "Physic.' A notable sign in one of Boston's busiest streets bears the remarkable legend: "Cole & Wood, dealers in wood and coal," the members of this firm evidently having an unusually fine perception of the "poetical fitness of things." A New York lawyer named Doolittle once unwittingly entered into partnership with a barrister named Steele, but a singular lack of clients soon became painfully noticeable, unci it was found advisable to dissolve, the name of the firm proving altogether too suggestive to prospective patrons;. A Jew years ago the writer noticed in the immediate vicinity of the residence of the 7 ate Wendell Phillips, in Boston, the somewhat odd coincidence of a brokers sign bearing the firm name of a Wendell & Phillips." A few years ago, in Boston, a lawsuit was on the docket in which the parties bore the respective names of Daniel Websta and Catherine Le Roy. As these names arc by no means common, the coincidence is somewhat striking, for Catherine Le Roy was the name- of the lady whom the great Daniel Webster married. Many remarkable coincidences of dates have occurred, both in history of nations and of individuals. George Washington died the last hour of the day, the last day of the week, of the last month of the vear, of the last rear of the last century. It has remained, however, for a Virginia family to outdo all previous coincidences of this nature. The father and mother were married on the 14th day of October; they have had nine children, all of whom were bom on the 1-tth of October: five of the children aro dead, and all five of them ceased to breathe on the 14th of October. The name of the head of this family is Joshu a Franklin, and their residence Glade Mountain, W. Ya. Mr. Franklin says that he was a Confederate soldier ; that he was captured twice by United States troops, and that he lost two brothers in the war; and that all four of these misfortunes occurred on the memorable 14th of October. In the neighborhood, the family is regarded with superstition, and not a human being can be prevailed upon to stay in the house or on tho premises on either day or night of the fatal date. It is seerciely necessary to add anything further in regard to this story, save that its origin has been traced to a Chicago newspaper, a mere coincidence, doubtless but one from which we will leave the reader to draw his own inferences. The Epoch, Foreign Titles. No foreign, though more particularly no French, title holds a more esteemed place than that of "marquis," which, indeed, socially may be said to rank above that of duke for the very simple reason that while the first Napoleon created a large number of dukes and princes he patented no marquises, who, unless the sons of imperialist dukes, are therefore known to be of creation belonging to the days of the monarchy, says a writer in Chamber's Journal. Such points are of course difficult 1;o determine without, ready sources of reference, but in foreign society such distinctions are as familiar as are with us those which regulate the relative social position of the members of our aristocracy. It is a distinction not always thoroughly understood, that which exists between political or peerage nobility and nobility of blood. A gentleman of blood being already noble, cannot be further ennobled by being raised to the peerage, though Ins rank and privileges are thereby augmented. This is a point which, if it is not alwavs clear to the English mind it is difficult to explain to the foreigner. He, however, perhaps better than the Briton, can grasp the meaning of the amusing anecdote of the Spanish grandee3 who, signing their consent to the accession to their throne of the French Philip V., wrote each against his name, "noble as the king; one, however, adding, aand a little more, for," he said, "Philip V. is a Frenchman while I, I am a Castilian." Though it is a colloquial fiction that every Spaniard is of noble birth, it must be remembered that it is only the heads of the Spanish noble families who bear the title, the eldest son of a duke being known during his father's lifetime simply as "Don Alfonso di It is perhaps not familiarly known that a Spanish title is by no means an inexpensive luxury. The rank of grandee costs about 1,000; and while with us a ducal title entails an outlay of 1,301), it must be remembered that it is only the original recipient who pays this sum, which in Spain is renewable on every fresh assumption of the title. This is but poorly recompensed by the right enjoyed by all Spanish grandees of remaining covered in the presence of royalty, a privilege confined in this comtry to the family of Lord Forester and Lord Kingsale.

race against a white man. 'Me beat um, sure, he sfrid, before tho contest began. On being asked his reason for so Lelieving, he replied that hejhad no fmv of a man, either in a race or a tight, who kept his mouth open. "If people generally knew how many diseases of the throat ami lungs aro brought on by wrong habits of breathing, I think they would be more cautious. Why, even a horse can't s'sand it. I wouldn't buy an animal that kept its mouth open all the time, nor would any man who knows anything about horses." The Horse. Tho Horse is a beast of burden and uncertain age. The horse sees the ups a:ul downs of life as well as the best of us. In his youth he may run away with a i actress aud in his old age be compelled to draw a clam wagon. In tho pride of his strength he is fair to look upon, and costs money, and in after life his hide is worked up into calfskin boots. The horse is kiud and gentle when you are buying him, but kicks, balks, and bites until you to want sell him. There never was a vicious or invalid horse offered for sale. In the horse market they are all trotters; in the harness they are something else. This animal plays an important part in the affairs of man. An English king once offered to swap his kingdom for a horse, and no one would take him up; every one who had a horse was using him and preferred his beast to a kingdom just then. The kingdom has since change hands. Horse-racing is one of the prominent sports of the re3ent century, run mostly in the interests of horse-jockeys and to a:inise those whose wealth makes them uneasy. Any one who doe not believe that richos can take into itself wings can get proof that it is liable to change hands mighty quick by staking some on a horse race. It may not ba able to iy literally, but it leaves him just the B.me. The horse sometimes shows remarkable fidelity to its master. This is illustrated by the story of tho Arab and his steed. If I remember it aright, an Arab was out of his congressional district putting on airs when some one pumped him full of lead. When the animal saw its master drop, without waiting for the Coroner, it caught the slack of his trowsers between its teeth and carried him home. If you do not appreciate the fidelity and heroism of this act it is because you have never seen an Arab. The knowledge of the horse and its habits is rapidly spreading, and the day is not far distant when you will see every man his own horse doctor, Terns Sij tings.

He Was Too Brave. There is a wide distinction between bravery and foolhardiness. The latter wus the quality exhibited by the hero of the following incident: He was marching a brigade of troops down to the front through Pennsylvania, New York Zuaves recruited from the Brewery and Five Points, toughs from the word go. Innumerable depredations were committed all along the line of march. Finally, all else failing, Gen. Sickles issued an order that the next man breaking ranks to forage, without permission, would be shot. He was riding down to the rear, when a man left the ranks, sprang ovei a wall and gathered an armful oi turnips. He tried to avoid seeing the soldier, but, with an air of bravado, the tough got in front of his horse and sung out: "Fine turnips, general; have some?'1 ''Did you hear the order read," said Sickles, sternly, ''forbidding all forag ing?" "Yes." 'Do yoi know that you are liable tc be shot for disobeying orders?" '"Yes," answered the insolent marau der, "but you, don't dare do it." C-r-rack; the soldier lay dead in liis tracks.. "I hated to do it," said the general afterward, "but if I didn't it was the end of discipline." There was no more break ing of ranks in that regiment. Yankee Blade. Photographing by Heat. It may be said that photographs can be taken by heat as well as by light. The action of the shorter waves of energy which we call light is quicker and sooner manifest to the eve thau the action of the long waves which we call heat; but the invisible heat rays in the solar spectrum have beenphotogrpahed. The slow action of heat in changing the molecular state of bodies i3 well known. It is probable that an emulsion could be formed which would give an image otm a hot black kettle in a dark chamber. The element of time, however, would probably be a a important one. Indeed we are often presented with evidences of the picture-making facility of heat rays. A fern-leaf upon ice is soon represented, by the difference of molecular action. A stationary carriage-wheel standing in the sun upon the frozen ground is found to have left its photograph upon the ground when it moves on. Prof. John Trowbridge in Scrib Tier's.

Shut Your Jttoulh.

"You snore, don't vou?" asked a Pitts-

burgh doctor of a patient who was

afflicted with a throat trouble. "So my wife says." "And you laugh quite often?" "Yes." "And your mouth's open a good part of the timejust as it is now when vou are not laughing, talking or snor-ing-" "I suppose so." "Well, that is what ails you. Break yourself of the habit and your throat will get well. Breathe through youi nose that is what it was made for. When you draw the air through youi mouth you receive it with all the dust and impurities it cou tains. Professional runners understand this; they know they cannot hold out ;in a race unless they keep their mouths closed. Tho savages understand it. and an Indian mother who sees her babe sleeping with its mouth open will press its lips together so that its respiration will be natural. You have heard the story of the Indian who was matched to run a

An Honest Showman Lord Stowell, who went i;o see every exhibition, provided it did not cost more than a shilling, once presented himself ot the door of a show where a snake of flome more or less gaudy color was on view,, But the sight of so good a customer was too much for the conscience of the showman, who exclaimed, like Mrs. Cluppins, "My lord, I will not deceive you. It's only the old wuike with a new coat of paint." The showman doubtless meant well, but Lie certainly acted ill. Harmless pleasures are not so common in life that even successful lawyers ought to be deprived of them without a cause. Lord Stowell would have gratified the lust of his eves with out risking the salvation of his soul if only he had been permitted to gaze upon a skin where nature had been eclipsed by art. A certain amount of wholesome ignorance is necessary .to the enjoyment or even to the toleration of existence. The Saturday Review. It is when the youtu? idea first begins to shoot that a little learniug is a dan jreroua thk.

What Kisses Have Dona. That a kiaa has been of importance in history we all know, and that women's kisses have made and unmade Kingdoms. The most famous of kisses always seem to me that ono, or that many, given by the Dutchess of Gordon when she recruited an entire regiment, the Gordon Highlanders, better known as the Ninety-second, by having each man take :he ""Queen's shilling" from between her teeth, so that he had, if he w&ntvd, a good opportunity to kiss her. It is almost unnecessary to say that the gallant laddies who fovght so well at Waterloo did not resist the charm of a lovely women's mouth. However, remember the kiss in vogue and just remember this, too: You vr find, :aiy dear boy, that t ic

prizeu Kiflj. Which with rupturn you snatched half-willing miss.

Ib FWfwtfir bv fur then the leffj.lizod k i

You gave the sione girl when you've tiado her a

Aira. This is slangy, but it's the sad, sad truth. Do you know how to kiss ? If you are a man you give a semi-scornful and semi-ondes(!ending smils at this question and make no answer. If you are a woman you laugh a merry laugh and wonder what kind of kisu you are expected to be att ainted with. Why, the latest, of course. And il is? For your sweetheart to stoop over you and kiss you just back of your shell-like ear. If you a;e wise that is where you put a little perfume, and the chances are that ho will kiss you not once but twice there and tell you that 'kissing you is li.-ie putting one's lips to the heart of a great red roe. This is natural in him, but it shows that he does not realize the difference between a his?, made perfect by art and t'iat which is flower-like by nature. What do I mem? That the next thing to kisuing a flower is kissing a baby. You take that in your arms, vou look in its clear eves eves that have never been saddened by iooking on anvthiner but the oiensure of life

you put youir lips to its rosebud of a mouth iind then you kisr. it, and then you know that you have inhaled the perfume of a. flower the flower of the dock. New York Graphic. , . . . -- i- -- -. - - ., ..i i m Novels That Mean Something. So complete and searching has been the survey of social life by the novelists that the society of to-day, with all its gradations and differences, could be reproduced from the paes of fiction. From the days of Fielding to those oi Charles Reade, English life has never missed faithful record at the hands of those who have comprehended it because they have pierced it with their sympathetic insight. Every great political movement like Chartism, every striking political incident like the Gordon riots, everv form oi discontent and agitation among the lower classes, has had lit and often lasting record. While George Eliot haa set forch the tremendous force of inheritarce and environment, the vigorous and often coarse brush of Dickens has painted, on a great canvas, the homely life of the common people; and the inimitable art of Thackeray, equally akin to irony and tears, has made us permanent possessors oi the social habit and character of the last century. The virile genius oi Bjornson, in the latest work of his hand, " Flags in nhe City and the Harbor," deals with seme of the most obscure problem of social and family life; Turguenief has made Russian character under the pressure of absolutism comprehensible to us; Toh-toy commands tiie attention o:: a new constituency of readers, deeply moved by the marvellous fidelity with which he reproduces phases of experience, hidden processes of char acter, at onco remote and familiar; while of Zo!;a it must be confessed, whatevei we think of his themes ar d his art, that he at least assumes to lay bare the very heart of certain socia. conditions in France. Fiction is unquestionably the most attractive and influential form through which men of literary genius express themselves to-day ; and no fact of social significance, no human relationship, no class limitation, capacity, or condition, will escape the irstinctive search for life which possesses the generation. That which the student oi social questions seeks as matter oJ science the novelist seeks as matter oJ art. H. W. Mabie, in ticribnw's. Wonders of tbe Camera The peculiar rhythmical effects which accompany discharges of powder and of nitroglycerine compounds have been elaborately investigated by the aid oi photography Ii; has also been suggested that careful photograph, taken of steel and timber just at tho joint of rupture under a breaking load, would conduce to our knowledge of the complicated subject of elasticity. The lightning flash can be investigated. Dr. Koenig, in a recent communication to the Physical Society ol Berlin, states that he has photographed a cannon-ball which was moving at a rate of 1,200 feet per second. The ball was projected in. front of a white screen and occupied one-fortieth, of a second in its passage. Marey has photographed the motions of limping people, and has thus given surgeons the materials for a study of lameness. It is said, moreover, that photography cf ten reveals incipient eruptive diseases which are not visible to the eye, Phcfcograplis taken by flush-powders of tfce human eye, showing it dilated in the dark, give the occulist a new method of studying the enlarged pupil. Prof, John Trow bridge, in Scrihner's. Difficult Sigrht Scetnr in Pckin. A t ravele r who recently returned from Pekin asserts that there is plenty to smell in that city, but very little to see. Most of ;ho show place: such as the Tonipio of Haven and the Marble Bridge have o:ie by ono been -closed to outside barbar:.au. who cannot even bribe their way. The houses are all very low and mean, the streets are wholly unpaved and aro always very muddy and dusty, and as there are nc sewer;-, or cesspools the fi.lthine.ss of the town is indescribable. He e,dds that the public building are small, and in a decayed and oumble-d nvn condition, and the neares t one can get to tho Emperor' palaca h; to cl imb to tho top oJ ssnne building outside the sacred inclosure and surreptiuoudy peop over the wall through an ope :a glass. Even then he does not see inuih, ,

BUJXDETTE'S ADVICE Th HomnrUt Offe rs Home Good Cook HI to a Yoking Man 'Uoa't Holler Vl)tt You're Hit," My son, your brow is clouded; soriething has happened that didn't ocd doesn't agree with you. Were you ntglected in the invitations? Didn't you get on any of the committees? Were you overlooked in the convention? Hasa't the Secretary written you a personal letter asking your advice upon the campaign? Have you been coldly passed over for men of less ability? Do you feel that an intentional slight has hi an put upon you? Can you see clearly that everything is going wrong because? you have not been consulted? Have heen directly snubbed by inferior

jirifeple? I thought as much. At your

time or me sucn mings are very iiaeiy

to occur. I hey used to happen with me, now and then . You will grow wiser as you grow older, unless you take i(ie other chute; then you will grow mere foolish, and there is only one cure ior an old fool, my boy that is, deeih. Ordinary death won't cure him, either. "Though thou should est bray him ir i a mortar among wheat with a pestle, et will not his foolish ness depart from him. See how awfully dead he has tc be killed? Smashing him only makes him worse. But now, if any or all these slights have been put upon you, listen to :aie, my tender Telemachus. Don't show yonr sores. Oh, don't show your soros. Thy are not pleasant things to look ut, nobody wants to see them, and they will heal much more rapidly and natundly and healthfully, if you don't expose them. Keep them covered. Don't show them to anybody but your surgeon, mua don't show them to him unless you have to. And, don't look at them yourself. Leave them alone under the heal in? plasters of time and the cool compresses of forgetfulness, and you'll be surprised, some day when you do happen to think of them, to find that they have healed by the first intention without a scar. Don't tell people when you are hurt; don't tell everybody how keenly you feel a slight when, perhaps, there was no slight intended. Don't get yourself snubbed by people who never see you, and who don't know you and never think of you. Ar d if you really are Ibrit, and hit hard, it belittles your manhood and drives away human sympathy when you lift up your "voice and howl on the streets. Keep quiet about it. Don't whine ; don't yell. One day, at the investment of Vicksburg it was on the memorable 22d of Mayduring a lull in the desultory skirmishing that preceded the assault, while I was lying close to the surface of the great round globe which we inhabit and wishing I could get a little closer to it, we hear! a tremendous howling and shrieking, mid down the dusty road from the fr3nt came a blue jacked skirmisher on the trot, holding one hand up in the ottfir, and the hand he was balding up had no thumb on it. It hurt like the mischief, I have no doubt, but it was only a thumb after all, smdhe w the fellow rw howling about it. He ?vas a brave niun or he wouldn't have been where he could have lost that tlumb. But you would think it was the only thumb in the whole United Statos army and that no one else on the skirmish line bad been hit that morning. So the soldiers saw only the funny side of the picture, and a perfect rfvorus of howls, in vociferous imitation of the man's own wails, went shrieking up from the sarcastic line of the men who were waiting thsdr turn to face death. In a minute another soldier came walking back from the skirmish line. He was walking slowly aud steadily, never a moan fell from hia compressed lips, thoigh they were whiter than his bronised face, and he held his hand against his breast. The silence of the death chamber fell upon the line in an instant, as the figure of the soldier moved along the road with the air of a conqueror. Half a dozen men sprang to his side. Tecderly tboy laid him down in the shadow of a gmit oak ; his lips parted to apeak ft message to some one a thousand miles away, aud the line was short one :aaan fcr the cooling assault. He died cf his hurt; cut he died like a king. Oh, my boy ! douft yell the lungs out of you over a mashed thumb, when, only three file: down the line a soldier salutes his Captain befom he faces abort to go to the rear witlt a death bullet in his breast You can't help getting hurt. There isn't a sef e place in t he whole line. There arecmel people in the worid who love to wornd us ; there are thoughtless, heed! : ss people who don't think ; there are peo :J:e who don't care, and there are thidtskinned people, who we not easily hurt themselves, and they think mankind is a thick-hided race; in fact, the air is frill of darts and arrows and singing bullets all the time, and it's dangerous to tie safe anywhere. But when you do got hit as hit you certainly will be donft holler" any louder t han ycu have Ux Grin and bear it, the best; you may. There are some peoplo so badly hurt they must moan ; do vou forget your

own hurt in looking after them? Boston Womeu's Jewels, The finest lot oi-gems possessed by ft Boston lady are the property of Mns. Gordon Mckay, the wife of the inventor of a sewing-maching. Should she d. tsire to appear wit'h her dress adorn ad with all the contents of her jewel swe she would prdbably stand up with not less than 300,00 .) worth of precious stones radiating the light in every direction from her. Nest to Mrs. Mimkay's collection emes a beautiful one that has been selected with great caio, owned by Mrs. John L. Shepard. :la value is certainly not leas than $10000. A pair of handsome diamond necklaces that are owned by M:i$a Shepard, being a gift irom her parento, are worth 10,0iK). Mrs. John L. Gardner has $75,000 worth of cLiamoncbt, rubies, and other precious stonots. These are mainly set up in faucrful unique ways, and their fair wearerla taste in the selection her articles of jewelry is often 5omiiiended. HoUri letter "That cider you senb p to the houte yesterday is no earth ly use. It's f rozeti. AU I know, sir, i that yowr wife nen word down here tjaat you waited eoioe of the hardest cidcr thit oould be found in the market1