Bloomington Telephone, Volume 14, Number 31, Bloomington, Monroe County, 27 September 1889 — Page 2

BT JTLLA WHEEIAB WILCOX Good-fcf yea, I am going. Sudden ! Well, you are right. But a startling truth cAiue home to mo With a sudden force last night What is it? shall I tell you- - Nay, that is why 1 go. I am running away from the hattle-fleld, Turning my hack on the foe. JUddles 1 Ton think me cm el ! Have you not been roost kind? Why, when yon quest ion me like that, -What answer can I find? You feiur you failed to amuse ine. Your husband's friend and guest, Whom be bade you entertain and p' easeWell, you have done your best. Then why am I going? A friend of nine abroad, Whose theories I have been acting upon. Has provqn himself a fraud. You have heard me quote from Plato A thousand times, no doubt ; Well, 3 have discovered he did not know What he was talking about. Yon think I am speaking strangely? 1 on cannot understand ? Well, let me look down into your eyes, Arid let me take your hand. I am running away from danger I am flying before I fall ; I o going because with heart and soul I love you that is all. There, now you are white with anger, I knew it would be so ; You should not question a man too dose When he tells you he must go. Exchange.

A FIRST-CLASS REMEDY.

BY SYLVANTJS COBB..JB.

Vulcan Blowhard considered himself tight in the prime of life. He was ffc'ty years of age, but he vowed that he h: id lived a hundred. He had once been a thriving business man, and was eveiv now doing a fair amount of trade Two of his daughters had grown up axid married, and he had fitted them out tith what he called princely portions. Be had, in truth, given them exceedingly good sums of money, and they blessed him for it and so did their resjective husbands an event which afforded Mr. Blowhard far more satisfaction than could the possession of the apportioned money have done. As these daughters were the only children with which Mr. Blowhard had ever been blessed, their absence left him with no one for a constant home companion but bis wife. Now Vulcan Blowhard and his better-

half were excellently well-matched. He was a short fat man, with a very round and a very folly red face. The top of his head was bald, and his laugh seemed to extend clear way up to the polished surface that covered his bump of veneration. Mrs. Blowhard was framed much in the same manner, and her face was as happy, and her laugh as jolly as was her husband's. But Mrs. B. was far the more prudent of the two. In fact Mr. B. had allowed himself to become rather loose in much of his habits. Since his daughters had gone, and the young sparks had consequently ceased to mr.ke their visits he had accustomed himself to invite social spirits to his festive board, and so far he had carried t lis, that at the present time it was no uncommon thing for him to have company to "dinner" six tioaes a week. He called them dinners though his wife denominated them very late supppers. But Mr. B. knew that they were dinners. He told his wife that people never drank wine at supper, but only at dinner, and consequently these disputed meals must be dinners. Mrs. B. did not dispute the wine part of the ar-rt-ngement, for she knew how many bottl 33 generally disappeared on these occasions. Now it so happened that Mr. Blowhard's purse had a bottom to it a very

unfortunate thing for him, perhaps, but nevertheless, one which was allied with a fixed fact. Mrs. B. expostulated with hit husband. She told him that he was not only spending money much faster than he earned it, but that what money he once had was all gone. "Let not your thoughts be fastened upon such filthy lucre, my dear," said filir. B. "I have a social nature, my dear, and the social nature must be fed. Vhile I live I must live, too, as happin3ss demands.9 ''All very well," returned Mrs. B. But do you remember that other people must lire?"

"I remember there is such a thing.

una ii x mistaKe nor, people are living "Yes, so they are, but some of them can't live much longer, if the mass of customer do as you do." "Mrs. B.? "The butcher has sent in his bill again. I have now six bills from him, and all of one account.9 "Ah, I must pay him. I shall pay him next week." "That U just what ycu Baid five months ago.

Five months? Five days, mean. "No. it has been five months lis bill was first presented. "B'ess me, how fast I live.

sever mind now. I must go to the store, for my troublesome clerk has taken a foolish notion into his head that I must help him take an account of aiock ai d balance the books. Have any dinner ready when I come back." And what will you have?" "Roast that sirloin." "I have none." "I to d the butcher to send in one. "But he fays tie won't. You owe Jim $170 now, nd he won't send any nore until he sees some chance of obtaining his pay. Mr. Blowhard uttered the butcher's name, and in connexion therewith uttered a very profane expletive. "But he is not to blame, said his gocd wife. "He knows that you squander away your money, and he cannot fcfford to lme his just dues. "I squander my money! uttered Mr. Blowhaid. throwing back his round head and looking very innocent. "Did

you not give the lie direct to such a ! monstrous assertion ? "No, I did not, Mr. B. How could I when I knew it to be true? Look at

the party you had here to supper last night. "Dinner, my dear. "Well, call it dinner, then. Leok at the party you had here. Six of the worst felloes in town. "Six of the very best fellows my dear. - "Well, call them what you please. You have them here half the time, eating your bread.and drinking your wine, and what do you get in return? Only

you

since

But

empty bottles and empty pockets, and also the loss oi your credit. "You forget, my dear, my social nature," said Mr. B.t argumentatively. "Those companions sustain the very brightest part of my life. They exer

cise my wit, keep my blocd up, and keep my love alive. Ah, you don't understand me. What are a few bottles of wine compared with such enjovment? "The wine you drank last night amounted to only aboxit ten dollars. You tell me you pay one dollar a bottle." "Of course, for I have the best. And what are ten dollars?" "Oh, not much. Only in the year, at the rate you go on, with your dinner parties twice, and sometimes three times, and often nix times, a week, it amounts to somewhere about two thousand dollars." " What ! Are you crazy ? Two thousand dollars? Nonsense!" - "There, reckon for yourself. I know your parties cost you, on an average, ten dollars each, and you have them on an average four times a rek. Now, there are fifty-two weeks in a year, and four times fifty-two are two hundred and eight the number of parties multiply that by ten, and see what you get." "WTell I declare I'd no idea. But never mind. I'll run around and borrow a couple of hundred from Harvey, to pay that annoying butcher, for we must have meat, and then I'll think of these things." Harvey was the husband of one of the daughters, and Mr. Blowhard borrowed the money of him, and paid the butcher, and then, instead of thinking of what his wife said to him, he forgot all about it. In a few evenings Mr. B. had another party. His companions were all fond of good living like himself, and they praised and toasted him without stint. Near midnight, Mrs. B. came into the room where thev were, and she found her husband just in the act of showing the company how to knock off the head of a bottle with a knife. He struck as he seen it done, and brok- the bottle in two pieces, but the break chanced to run lengthwise of the bottle, and the wine went on the floor. Mrs. B. had meant to speak to her husband about dismissing his company, for they were becoming uproarious ; but she saw his social nature was far too elevated to sympa

thize with common ideas of life, and left him in his glory. But there was coming a stop to Vulcan Blowhard's manner of liviug. His wife Sfiw that he was fast running himself out of health and out of pocket, aud she determined to save him in spite of himself. She had tried argument and persuasion long enough, and she resolved now to resort to strategy. Her

husband, who was naturajly one of the best men in. the world, was becoming one of the worst husbands to be conceived of; and more than that, his credit was becoming a thing of no value whatever. Debt was staring him in the face at every turn. Mrs. B. sent for Dr. Didvmus. The

doctor was au old man, and he loved ' Mr. Blowhard for what he used to be.

The plotting wife explained her plan j

fully, and after some reflection the doctor agreed to help her with all his skill and confidence. He opened his medicine box and selected therefrom several parcels, and from these he made up twelve little dark-colored powders. "Now, they won't be dangerous, doctor?" said Mrs. B., with much solicitude. "Not in the least. Only call me in season. But on the contrary, I think they will do him good,"

That evening Mr. Blowhard had another party, but before the party arrived, Mr. B. took one of those mysterious powders iu a cup of tea. The party lasted until after midnight, and when Mr. B. went up to his chamber, he would have got into bed without undressing if his wife had not suggested to him the propriety of removing his garments. So he took off his coat and vest, and his pants, .but he forgot his boots. His wife removed these, however, and he only slept in his dicky and cravat. On the next morning another of these quaint little powders went into his cup of coffee, and another went into his second. He ate nothinsr, for he

had no appetite, and he drank any quantity of scalding hot coffee and medicine. At noon Mr. Blowhard returned from his store earlier than usual. He looked quite pale, aud complained of being sick, a d after attempting to eat some dinner, but without accomplishing it, he laid down on the sofa. At first he thought he was afflicted only by a derangement consequent upon his last night's debauch, but he soon began to experience sensations he had never before felt. He feit verv sick and weak, and there . was an oppressive feeling about the region of the heart that frightened him. "Deborah," he said, addressing his wife, "I fret very badly." "Alas!" groaned she, "if you feel half so badly as look, you must feel bad indeed. O, I never saw you look so before. Such a dreadful look about the

eyes

4We must send for Dr. Didymous,"

the groanins: man said. "Yes, and we must send for him very quickly, too." "Then send, for mercy's sake, send." The doctor was accordingly sent for, and when he arrived he found Mr. Blowhard upon the sofa. 'Ah, doctor, I'm glad you've come, groaned the sufferer. wOf what in mercy's name makes him look so?" asked the half frantic wife, wringing her hands with the most admirable alarm imaginable. But the doctor did not answer. He sah down and felt the sick man's pulse, and then gravely shook his head. What is it, doctor?" whispered Mr. B. "I cannot tell you now," he replied, with the most solemn meaning. I will leave you some medicine, and to-morrow morning I will come again. You had better go up to your bed now, while you have strength. And,1 he continued, turning to Mrs. B., "you must see that he is kept as quiet as possible. Do not allow the least noise to be made about the place, nor allow the children to play about under the windows. Everything may depend mpin his being kept quiet.1

Dr. Diaymns dealt out the medicine and gave it into the hands of the wife, and after giving a few more very explicit charges, he took his leave. Mr. Blowhard had to be helped into his chamber, and when he was finally got into bed, his wife tucked him up, and then went to prepare the medicine. The poor sufferer was dreadfully frightened, and his wife did not fail to make everything appear in its worst light. Yet she was faithful. He passed a painful, sleepless night, and early iu the morning the doctor came again. The man of medicine sat down and felt of the invalid's puke than he examined the tongue then placed his ear over the region of the heart, and lastlv

i he tapped on his breast most mysteri

ously, "Doctor, what ails me?" feebly whispered Blowhard. "Do you feel a pain in the head?" the physician asked, without seeming to heed the question that had been isked. "O, dreadful." "And do you feel a faintness (n the stomach?" "Yes," "And sharp pains about thehejrt. "Yes." I have one more question to ask," continued the doctor, with a look of the utmost concern and fear, "do you sometimes feel a sort of dizziness in the head, accompanied by temporay blindness, "Yes, I do," gasped Mr. B. "Ah, I feared so," uttered Didymus, with a shake of the head. "But wh w what is it?" "Mr. Blowhard, I must be frank with you. You will pardon me?" "Certainly tell me all." "I will tell you all, and then you will the better understand the precariousness of our situation. Riotous living has killed von." "No, no, not killed me, doctor!" "I fear so. You have a decided attack of the pleuratic gout upon the heart. I never came across a -case of the kind before. Von Rutger, the great astronomer died of the disease, and so did De Capuenditti, the great Italian painter, They were both of them riotous livers, and I have heard that Von Rutger even went so far that he averaged a midnight carousal four nights in the week !" "Mercy!" groaned Mr. Blowhard. "But of course you have not done anything near that?" "O dear, save me!" "De Capuenditti, so the medical account says, recovered from his first attack, and might have lived, but he

again fell into his former habits, and he died." "Save me doctor! Do something!" "I will do all I can; and you will not be long in suspense, for this strange

disease works very quickly. Iu three days at the farthest, you will either be dead or well. If you can be cured I can cure you." The doctor dealt out the medicine this time with the utmost precision, and the invalid promised to obey his orders punctually. Mrs. Blowhard followed the doctor down into the kitchen, and there he ordered her to make a gallon of tea with equal parts of wormwood, catnip, motherwort, and smart weed, and and to have her husband to drink of it freely, and throw the other medicine awav. On the next morning the doctor came again, but this time he gave the sick man no decided hope of recovery. But on the next morning aier, Mr. Blowhard was told that he rughfc consider himself a well man. He felt duly grateful for his miraculous delivery.and of course he would not run the risk of inducing the dangerous disease again. It was two weeks before Mr. B. couk" feel strong again; but eiren then he ha? no desire to go back to his old habits, for he was not anxious to dk, , m fact, the thought of death was poison to hh peace of mind, and he firmly resolved that he would endanger himself ncmore. Before long he began to pay up his debts, and he found it a very pleasant task. His fall trade opened most profitably, Mid before winter he had paid every omfc he owed. He had no idea that he could have been so happy. His credit was once more good, and the people were ore more anxious to do business with him. "Well, husband, you have got strong once more how would you like an other of your dinner parties?" Vulcan Blowhard looked up and shook his head. "Ah, Deborah, no more of 'em. Just look at Bliftgins and Snapper ancj Crabtree and Lim pins. If I had kepton I might have boen where they areall brol;en down in body and purse ust see how bloated they look. No, ?, don't wantanv more of 'em." It was a year before he found out th trick his good wife had played upon him with the assistance of the doctor He was not angry, but he thanked De borah for what she had done for him. And then ho had another source of peace: He had no more dread of the return of the fatal "pleuratic gout of the heart.1'

Encouraging His Ambition. wSo, vonng man,'' said the painter, as he datibed a streak of sky on the canvas, "vou want to be an artist, do vou?" "Yes, sir." ftCan you learn to live on crackers and cheese on some days and on nothing at other times?" I don't know; I never tried." "Can you work from 6 o'clock in tSie morning till 6 o'clock at night, and never get tired aud stop to rest?" I don't know. I I must say it's doubtful." "Could you refuse an offer to paint artistic signs for a brewery or cigarette firm, and go on fighting starvation at short run ere with the soft end of a brush ?w Perhaps I might. "Well, you thin it over, and if you feel certain of it, corn around and I'll see what you can do in the way of painting." Merchant Traveler. Minister I'm glad, Bertie, to see that you kept your promise to me and oame to church to-day. instead of going fishing, Bertie Yes, sir. Minister Don't you feel much better than if yon bad gone to the creek? Her tie Yes, sir; 'cos pa said if I fullered him to-day he'd lick me good.

Doing Men'; Jobs. It is alwajs interesting to see how a woman does a man's work. There is a slat off the garden fence, and the woman who owns the fence thinks that she will ;3i it. She gets a hammer, and a saw, and some nails, and some old gloves, and fastens up the liou.se, for fear a tramp may come along while slu is out. Then she looks up the street and down the street, to see if anybody is iu sight, and then she climbs bravely over the wall, and catches her skirt on a sharp rock, and brings down half a hundred stones alter her, and plunges to avoid them. She steps on a stick and thinks it is a snake, and screams, and scares the hens half to death, nnd some of them run under the wood shed, and some of them fly up on the roof of the barn, and some of them scoot over the fence into Johnson's yard. Johnson's dog pulls out their tail feathers, and a feud springs up between the two families which will extend to the third and fourth generations of the tribe, The women gets the paling into position, and holds it at the bottom with her knee while she nails it at the top. Anv fool can drive a nail! "Whv, of course. She lifts the hammer and strikes with a will. The nail turns dextrous y to one side, to avoid the blow, and the womun's thumb nail turns black, because it was in the way when the hammer fell, arid because she didn't happen to take it out of the way. She has to go back to the house to get some arnica and some camphor, and by the time they have been applied, and the thumb has stopped aching, the tin peddler calls, and wants to give her rive cents for rags she has been industriously saving f r a year, and which she has

felt all along was such an economical thing to do. By the time the peddler has gone, the minister calls to talk with her about mission work in China, and by the time he had departed, there is a boy to sell blueberries, and a woman with a "History of the Johnstown Horror," aud by that time it is noon. After dinner the woman starts out once more to fix that piling. She takes some more nails, and feels determined to conquer. She pounds and pounds, and the nails all go in skewing and break off, and at last the hammer flies off from the handle, and it takes half an hour to put it on again, and all the nails she has brought with her to wedge it in place. Then she applies herself to business once more, and attacks the paling with renewed vigor. She nails it this time, and stands back to survey her vork. Somehow it doesn't look just right, and she discovers that she lias put it on wrung end up. . She will take it off. That 'a easier said than done. When a woman does a thing she does it to stay done, and before bhecan get all these broken, aud crooked, and skewed nails out, the paling is split into kindling wo:;d, and the rails to which it is nailed look as if they had been subjected to a fusillade from a gattling gun. And as the last nail gives way before frantic endeavors, she lets go, or rather the paling lets go, so suddenly, that sho loses her balance, and falls backward into the ditch, which some enterprising devotee of thorough drainage has excavated, and she wrenches her back, and tears her dress, and wets both of her feet, and crushes her hat, and scrambles out just as Mrs. Jones, with whom she is at swords' points, rides by with company from the city, and laughs at her predicament. Then that woman it mad, and she sticks a piece of wood iu that fence, and vows it may stay there for what she cares, till the crack of doom. Then she

guthers up her tools and goes home. Next time when there is a fence to be mended, she will give the carpenter half a dollar for an hour's work, and feel that she is saving money. New York Weekly. How Sitting Bull Utilized the Telegraph. W. H. Mosher, of Ypsilanti, Mich., is in the city. Ee was formerly in charge of a store at Staudiug Rock Agency, Dak., and among his frequent visitors were Sitting Bull, Gall, Red Cloud, and others of the famous personages of the Sioux tribe. Mr. Mosher was this morning discussing Sitting Bull's claim to honors in the Custer tight "Sitting Bull has become famous as the hero of the Custer battle on the Indian side, but the fact is that ho was not in the fight at all. I can understand Sioux well and speak it fairly. One night Sitting Bull and Gall met in my store, and for over an hour discussed the details of the battle, and once or twice almost reached a fighting point. Gall was making an attack ou Sitting Bull for attempting to steal his bravery. "The fact is that Sitting Bull was the first Indian to reach a telegraph station with the news of the massacre, and he made the most of his opportunity. He pictured himself in the thickest of the fight, and had scalps with him to prove it, but they were all secured after the battle and not in it. Sitting Bull was not in the fight, but watched it from a bluff some distance off. At its close he rushed down and took three or four scalps and then rode away and painted himself a hero. At least this is what the Indians say. Gall was the actual leader, and is regarded a very brave warrior. Sitting Bull was merely a medicine man, and had the reputation of being a coward." Mr. Mosher has not been on the agency for about three years. He went there soon after the Custer fight. Minneapolis Journal. What a Lemon Will Do. Lemonade made from the juice of the lemon is one of the best and safest drinks for any person, whether in health or not. It is suitable for all stomach diseases, excellent in sickness, in cases of jaundice, gravel liver complaiat, inflammation of the bowels and fevers it is a specific against worms and skiu complaints. The pippin crushed may be used with sugar and watar and used as a drink. Lemon juice is the best antiscorbutic remedy known. It not only cures the disease but prevents it. Sailers make dailv use of it ior this purpose. We adviBe everyone to rub their gums with lemon juice to keep Utma in a healthy condition. The

hands and nails are also kept clean,

white, soft and supple by the daily use of lemon instead of soap. It also prevents chilblains. Lemon is used ia intermittent fevers, mixed with strong, hot, black coffee, without sugar. Neuralgia, it is said, may be cured by rnN bing the part affected with a cut lemo;x It is valuable also to cure warts. .K

I will remove dandruff by rubbing tue

roots of the hair with it. It will alleviate, and finally cure coughs and colds and heal diseased lungs, if taken hot on going to bed 4t night. Its uses p- q manifold, and the more weempby it internally the better we shall find ourselves. A doctor in Rome is trying it experirrentally in malarial fevers with great success, aud thinks that it will in time supersede quinine, Rehoboth Sunday Herald. Homors of the Dispensary. A woman who was being treated for a stomach difficulty, at the North End dispensary, writes Arlo Bates from Boston, found in the ash heaps of the dump a bottle containing some gruesioiae black mixture, and the next time she presented herself for examination sht brought it with her. "Doctor," she said, "will yer plazo to taste o that? I thought to take a little last night; ye wouldn't believe thepowet o' distress I was in the whole blessed time." "Distress!" the doctor exclaimed in vexation; "I'm glad of it. Didn't I tell you that if you kept taking things I wouldn't have anything more to do with you?" "Yes, I know, doctor, an' I ax your pardon. But I couldn't bear to waste it, for fear it might be just the very medicine I'd need." And when she went away she asked for the bottle, as she had a sister who was not well oad she thought it might help her. On another occasion I happened to to be in the room of the dentist of the dispensary when there came iu an elderly Irish woman with her daughter, a strapping woman of two or three and twenty, The mother was urging the daughter tc have a tooth extracted, and it became apparent from the conversation that they hid been here the day before, but that the daughter's courage had not been brought up to the sticking point. This time, however, the woman was persuaded to get into the chair and allow the dentist to examine her teeth; but upon the inquiry which wa the offending tooth, the interesting fact was developed that there were none of the young woman's teeth particularly out of order, but that it being a superstition to which she and her mother religiously held that whenever a woman bore a child whe must lose a tooth, they had thought it best to hae one taken out before it became painful. "Which one would vou like me to take out?" inquired the dentist, much diverted. "O, ishure an it's yourself '11 be after knowirr which one it'll be will be achinV was the reply. "It's her first child, an he's the finest boy ever yes laid eyes on." From which it will be eviden t tha.t even so gruesome a" place as a dispensary has its hunxors. Free Adveitisiiig. "The quantity of paper used by us for message blanks is enormous," said the manager of a city telegrapn office io a reporter, the other day, "ana much of it is wasted, as far as we are concerned. A man who wants to write & hasty note or pencil a calculation, takes one of our blanks, because it is handy and costs him nothing. 1 wonder how many people reilect that they are treating the telegraph company unfairly. Not very many, I am afraid."

And yet the telegraph companies manage to survive, as do also the hotelkeepers of the country, who are beginning to make an organized "kick" against furnishing stationery to their customers. It doesn't seem to count with the skinflint minds that the people who pationize their establishments help advertise them by every heading and envelope sent out. A ton of paper will furnish a dizzy lot of stationery, dished out in commercial note, and the entire cost, printing included, cn't well overrun $300. Add to to this $75 for a hundred thousand printed envelopes, and allowing one envelope to, say, thfree note heacings, we have stationery enough to last a big house a whole year, at a 5ost of $375, era trirle of ove $1 a day. Taking the envelopes as a measure oj: the alleged wastage or stealage, we will allow one out of every three to be used legitimately, that i forwarded by mail to all parts of the world and as each envelope of the hundred thousand stands for three sheets, when we reduce this effective number, we allow no loss than nine sheets to each wrapper. On this basis then, we have 33,000 letters sent out, each containing an ad vertisement of the house in effect, 33,000 circulars have been distributed broadcast, and into the very best of hands, the hotel merely furnishing th stationery. Had the proprietors been obliged to pay postage on these letters, there would be some reason to make objection, as that item alone amounts,

counting single rates for each package,

to nearly d nible the cost of the stationery. In other words, the hotel proprietors, ci a cost of less than $400,

have f 1,200 worth of effective work performed for them. With this showing, we think the Bonifaces of the country instead of skimping on their stationery, will be glad to increase it. A Dreadful Possibility. Maurice Barrymore had been met by

a man who was pushing some special . brand of vane. It was urged on him, I 4ti 1 xl-nno inm tv rvv 3 nn;1 r 4: loaf 4 Vi a f

man asked : "My dear Barrymore, won't you do me a very great favor? "With all my heart, n said Barrymore. " Vont you, the .ot time yon are in a barroom., cfcll for that? "Certainly I will," said Barrymore. Then a long silence. "But suppose they ahoiild have it?w Louisville Courier-TournaL The ch'Idish miss regents a kiss and runs the ofcher way; but when at last soma years hM9 p.ut, it's different they say.

THE tliRSK OF rllllLSI

A Pretty iLegaml Ho?fr Ariaud arOTtiUU in It AirThere is in Italy a fountain, sc.ys writer in the Chicago Timet, ovei which is a statute of a beggar dridking at a spring. It is called the "Begflrftr Fountain," and this is its story: Once

upon a time there lived, so sayn the legend, a very proud and haughty man, who hated the poor and set birasoli above all the world who were not a? wealthy and well dressed as himself, and his want of charity was tw reaf that it had become proverbial, and beggar would no more have thoug'at oi asking bread at his gate than oi asking him for all his fortune. However, there was a spring on his land, a sweet spring of cold wat?r, and, as it Avas the only one for miles, many 0 wayfarer paused to drink of it, butnevei was permitted to do so. A i.ervant well armed, was kept upon the watch to drive such persons away. Now, there never had beet, kiiown before any one to be so avaricious :s to

refuse a cup of cold water to his fellow man, and the angels, talking amongst each other, could not believe it; and one of them said to the re3t: "It is impossible for any br;t Satan himself? I will go to earth aS prove that it is not true!" And so this fair and holy angel disguised herself as a beggar woman, covered her golden hair with a black hood and chose the moment when the msister of the house was himself standing near the spring to come slowly up the load, walking over the stones iu bare feet and to pause beside the fountain and humbly ask for a draught of its sweet water. Instantly the servant who guarded the spot i liter posed the pike he earned, but the angel, desiring to take news ot a good deed, not of an evil one, back to heaven, turned to the master himself. "Sir," she said, "I am, as you see, a wanderer from afar. See how poo:r my garments are, how stained with gravelIt is not surely at your bidding that vour servant forbids me to drink. And even if ifc is, I pray you bid him let me alone, for I am very thirsty." The rich man looked at her with scornful eyes and laughed contemptuously. "This is not a public fountain," he said, " You will find one in the next village." "The way is long, pleaded the angel, "and lam a woman, and but weak." "Drive her away," said the rich man, and, as he spoke, the beggar turned;

but on the instant her black hood dropped from her head and revealed floods of rippling golden hair her unseemly rags fell to the ground and the shimmering robes that angels wear shone in their place. For a moment she hovered, poised on purple wings, with her hands folded on hor bosom and an ineffable sweetness of sorrow in her eyes. Then, with a gush of iausij6 and a flood of perfume, she vanishtd. 11 The servant fell to the earth like one dead. The rich man trembled and cried out, for he knew that he had forbidden a cup of cold water to an a a gel, and horror ossessed his soul I f Almost instantly, also, a terrible thirst fell upon him, which nothing could assuage. In vain he drank -vines, sherbets, draughts of all pleasing kinds. Nothing could slake his thirnt The sweet water of the spring was Salter to him than the sea. He who never in his life had known an ungratified desire, now experienced the tortare ot an ever unsatisfWi longing; but throngb this misery he began to understand he had done. Heropet ted his cruelty to the poor. Alms were given daily at his gate. Charity was the busings of his life. The fountain was no longer guarded, and near it hung ever a cup ready for anyone who chose t;o use it. But the curse if curse it were waa never lifted. The rich man young when the angel visited him grew middle-aged, elderly, old, still tortured by this awful thirst, Respite his prayers and repentance. He had given away his substance: he had himself broken bread for the most mis arable beggars who came to his door. And at 80 years of age, bowed with infirmity and weary oi his lits, le sat one day beside the fountain weeping. And lot along the road he saw approaching a beggar woman, hooded va black, wearing sordid rags and walking over the stone in her bare feefc Slowly she c&me on and paused bender the fountain. 44 May I drink she asked. u There are none to forbid thee, said the old man, trembling. Driak, voor woman. Once an angel was forbidden here, but that time has passed. Drink, and pray for me athirst. Here is the cup." : The woman bent over the fountain and filled the cup; but instead: of pitting it to her own lips, she preoeatecl it

to those of the old man. (Drink, then, she said, "a&d thirst no more!" The old man took the cup and emptied ifc. Oh,- blessed rtraugLt! With it' tho torture of years departed, and as he drank it he praised heaven.

Ana lilting ins eyes onoe mora no bv the beggar's hood drop to the ground and her rags fall to pieces. For a moment she stood revealed in all her beauty of sinowy skin and golden hair and silvery raiment; aud she stretched her hand toward him, as iu blessing, and then, rising ou purple pinions, van ished iu the skies. A strain of tausio lingered, a perfume filled the air, and those who same there soon a ter found

the old man praying leside the spring. Before he died he built the fountain from which the spring still gushes, and it, with the splendid mansion beyond it, now a hospital, has been given to the poor forever. Another Sort of Thing Miss Arabella Liepyer I do not mind your poverty, George. Until your fortuue mend, I could 10 happy in your wealth of affection, an J in aome vine-clad cottage - Mr. Wardoff Pardon me, dear; you know I am. a poor eity clerk, and. 00U tages are out of the question. Do yon think you oould be happy in a third-floor-back furnished room, wit i s sewing machine biuzing overhead and some fiend, below oooking cabbage? Miss Arabella May be, George, dear, wed better w ait, af(r ll luck.