Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 29 November 1877 — Page 7

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

A Novel of Thrilling Interest About the 6reat Strikes in England.

UV CHARLES READE.

I

,'ont nuc Krom Last

Ismic.1'

CHAPTER. XXVI.

Grace happened to have a headache next morning, and did not come down to breakfast: but it was Saturday, and Mr. Garden always lunched at home on that day. So did Grace, because it was one of Little's days. Ibis gave Mr. Garden 'he opportunity he wanted. When they were alone he fixed his eyes on his daughter, an said quictl} What is your opinion of—a jilt?' 'A heartless, abominable creature,' re plied Grace, as glibly as if she was repenting some familiar catechwm, 'Would you like to be called one?V •Oh, papa!' 'Is there nobody who ha3 the right to apply the term to you?' 'I

hope not.'

(Red

'You encouraged Mr. Co.entry's addresses?' •I am afraid I did not discourage them, as I wish I had. It is so hard to foresee everything.' 'Pray do you remember the fifth day of last December?' 'Can I ever forget it?' (Redder.) 'la it true that Mr. Coventry proposed: for vou, that dav?' 'Yes.' •And you accepted him.' 'No no. Then he has told you 60? How ungenerous? All I did was, I hesitated, and cried, and didn't say 'no,' downright,—like a fool. Oh, papa. ha\e pity on me, and save me.' And now she wa6 pale.

Mr. Garden's paternal heart was touched by this appeal, but he was de-i termined to know the whole truth. •You could love hitn, in time, I suppose?' 'Never.' 'Why?' 'Because—' •Now tell me the truth. Have you another attachment?' 'Yes, dear papa.' (In a whisper and as red as fire.) 'Somebody of whom you are ftot proud.' •I am proud of him. He is Mr. Coventry's superior. t\fi is every body's superior in everything in the world.' 'No, Grace, you can hardly be proud of your attachment if you had been, you would not have hidden it all this time from your father.' And Mr. Carden 6ighed.

Grace burst out cfyihg, and flung herself on her knees and clung, sobbing, to him. 'There, there,' said he 'I don't want to reproach you but to advise you.' •Oh, papa! Take and kill me. Do: I want to die." 'Foolish child! Be calm now and let us talk sense.'

At this moment there was a peculiar ring at the door, a ring not violent, but vigorous.

Grace started and looked terrified: •'Papa!' said she, 'say what you like to me, but do not affront him for you might just as well take that knife and stab your ••daughter to the heart. I love him 60.

Have pity on me.' I Thi: servant announced VIr, Little!' Grace started up, and stood with her hand gripping the chair her cheek was pale, and her eyes glittered she looked wild, and evidently strained np to defend her lover.

All this did not escape Mr. Carden. He said gently, 'Show him into the library.' Then to Grace, as soon as the -servant had retired, 'Come here, my child.'

She knelt at his knees again, and turned her imploring, si reaming eyes up to him. 'Is it really so serious as all this?' 'Papa, words can not tell how I love "6ut if you affront him, and he leaves me, ^ou will see how I love him you will know, by my grave side, how I love hirfr.' •Then I suppose I must swallow my disappointment how I can.' 'It shall be no disappointment: he will do you honor and me too.' \%jt he can't make a settlement on his j. wife, 'and no man shall marry my daughter till he can do that.'

SWe can wait,' said Grace humbly. 'Yes, wait—till you and your love arc both worn out.' 'Idshall wear out before my love.'

Mr., Carden looked at her, as she knelt before him, and his heart was very much softened. 'Will you listen to reason at all?' said he. 'Fitom you, I -will, dear papa.' She "adddtl, swiftly, 'and then you will listen to affection, will you not?' 'Yes. Promise me there shall be ho formal engagement, and I will let him come now and then

This proposal? though not very pleas'~~t ant, relieved Grace of such teriible fears, that she consented. •)f Mr. Carden then kissed her, and rose, to go to young Little but, before he had taken three'steps, she caught him by the "arm,and said, imploringly, 'Pray remem/ber while you are speaking to him that you would*not have me to bestow on any man but lor him for he saved 'my life, ~t**fand Mr. Coventry's too. Mr. Coventry forgets that: but don't you: and, it you wound him, you wound me he carries ''t my heart in his bosom.'

Mr. Carden promised he would do his jr^ duty as kindly as possible and with that Grace was obliged to content heiself.

When he opened the library door, young Little started up, his face irradiated with joy. Mr. Carden smiled a little s&tiracally but he was not altogether untouched by the eloquent love for his daughter, thus showing itself in a very handsome and amiable face. He 6aid, •It is not the daughter this time, sir, it is only the father.

Little colored up and looked very un •J-easv. Tj 'Mr. Little, I am told you pay your addresses to Miss Carden. Is that so?' ly- 'Yes, sir.' 'You have never given me any intimation.1

Little colored still more. He replied, with some hesitation, Why sir, you see I was brought up amongst workmen, and they court a girl first, and make sure of her, before they trouble the parents and besides, it was not ripe for your eye yet. 'Why not?' 'Because I'm no match for Miss Carden. But I hope to be, some diy.' 'And she is to wait for you till then?' .'She says she will.' •4. AVell, Mr. Little, thU is a delicatc

in? Iter but you are a straightforward man, I see and it is the best way. Now I must do my duty as a parent, and I am a'raid I shall not be able to do that without mortifying you a little but believe me, it is not from any diclike or disrespect to you but only because it is my duty.' •I'm much obligid you, sir and I'll ,bear more from you than J'. I would from any other man. You are her father, and I hope you'll be mine one day.' 'Well then. Mr. Little, I always thought my daughter would marry a gentleman in this neighborhood, who has paid her great attention for years, and is a very suitable match for her. You are the cause of that match being broken off, and I am disappointed. But, although I am disappointed, I will not be harsh or unreasonable to you. All I say is this, my daughter shall never marry any man, nor engage herself to any man, who cannot make a proper settlement on her. Can you make a proper settlement on her?' 'Not at present,' spid Little, with a Sigh. 'Then I put Jt to you, as a man, 'is it fair of you to pay her open attentions, and compromise her? You must not think me mercenary, I am not the man to give my daughter »o the highest bidder. But there is a medium.' '1 understand you sir, so far. But what am I to do? Am I to leave off loving, and hoping, and working, and inventing? might as well tell me to leave off living.' 'No, my poor boy I don't 6ay that, neither. If it is really for her you work, and invent, and struggle with fortune so nobly as I know you do, persevere, and may God speed vou. But, meantime, be generous, and don't throw yourself in her way to compromise her.'

The young man was overpowered by the kindness and firmness of hi9 senior, who was also Grace's father. He said, in a choking voice, there was no sell denial he would not submit to, if it was understood that he might still love Grace, and might marry her as soon as he could make a proper settlement on her.

Then Mr. Carden, on his part, went farther than he had intended,Jand assented distinctly to all this, provided the delay was not unreasonable in point of time. 'I can't have her whole life wasted.' 'Give me two years I'll win her or lose her in ihat time.' He then asked, piteously, if he might see her. 'I am sorry to say No to that,' was the reply 'but she has been already very much'agitated, and I should be glad to spare her further emotion. You need not doubt her attachment to you, nor my esteem. You area very worthy, honest young man, and your conduct does much to reconcile me to what I own is disappointment.'

Having thus gilded the pill, Mr. Carden shook hands with Henry Little, and conducted him politely to the street door.

The young man went away slowly, for he was disconsolate at not seeing Grace. But, when he got home, his stout Anglo-Saxon heart reacted, and he faced the situation.

He went to his mother and told her what had passed. She colored with indignation, but said nothing. •Well, mother, ol course it might be better but then it might be worse. It's my own fault now if I lose her. Cutlery won't do it in the time, but invention will so, from this hour, I'm a practical inventor, and nothing but death shall stop me. .£• t.

CHAPTER XXVII. '"\iT

Grace Carden ran to the window,'aftd saw Henry Little go away slowly, and hanging his head. This visible dejection in her manly lover made her heart rise to her throat, and she burst out sobbing

End

weeping with alarming vio­

lence. Mr. Carden found her in this state, and set himself to soothe her. He told her the understanding he had come to with Mr. Little, and begged her to be as reasonable and as patient as her lover was. But the appeal was not successful. 'He came to see me,' she cried, 'and has gone away without seeing me. You have begun to break both our hearts, with your reason and your prudence, one comtort, mine will break first I have not his fortitude, Oh, my poor Henry! He has gone away, hanging his head, broken-hearted: that is what you have donne for me. After that, whit are words? Air—air: and you can't feed hungry hearts with air.' 'Well, my child,I am sorry now I did not bring him in here. But I really did it for the best. I wished to spare you further agitation.' 'Agitation!' And she opened her eyes with astonishment. 'Why, it is you who agitate me. He would have soothed ine in a moment. One kind and hopeful word from him, one tender glance of his dear eye, one pressure ot his dear hard hand, and I could have borne anything but that drop of comtort you denied us both. Oh, cruel! cruel!' 'Calm yourself, Grace, and remember whom you are speaking to. It was an error in judgment, perhaps—nothing more.' 'But, then, if you know nothing about love, and its soothing power, why meddle with it at all?' 'Grace.'said Mr. Carden, sadly, but firmly,' we poor parents are all prepared for this. After many years of love and tenderness bestowed on our offspring, the dav is suie to come when the young thing we have reared with so much ca^e anu tenderness will meet a person of her own age, a stranger and, in a month or two, ail our love, our care, our anxiety, our hopes, will be nothing in the balance. This wound is in store for us all. We foresee it we receive it we groan under it we foigiveit. We go patiently on, and still give our ungrate-, ful children the benefit of our love and our experience. I have seen in my own family that horrible mixtuie, Gentility and Poyerty. In our class of life, poverty is not only poverty, it is misery* and meanness as well. My income dies with me. My daughter and her childred shall not go back to the misery and meanness out of which I have struggled. They shall be secured against it by law, before she marries, or, she shall marry under her father's curse.'

1

i(

Then Grace was frightened, and s-id she should never marry under her father's curre but (with a fresh burst ot weeping) what need was there to send Henry away without seeing her, and letting them comtort each other under this sudden affliction. 'An, I was too happy this morning,' said the poor girl. 'I was singing before breakta^t iet always told me not to do jhiit. Oh! oh! oh!' Mr. Carden kept

THE TERkE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

s:lence but his fortitude was sorely tried. That day Grace pleaded headache, and did not appear to dinner. Mr. Carden dined alone, and missed her bright face sadly. He sent his love to her, and went off to the club, uot very happy,

a

the

club he met Mr. Coventry, and told him frankly what he had done. Mr. Coventry, to his surprise, thanked him warmly. 'She will be .nine in two years,' said he. 'Little will never be able to make a settlement on her." This remark set Mr. Carden thi king.

Grace watched the window day after dav, but Hen ry never came nor passed. She went a great deal more than usual into the town, in hopes of meeting him by the purest accident. She longed to call on .Mrs. Little, but feminine instinct withheld her she divined that Mrs. Little must b^ deeply offended.

Jjjhe fretted for a sight of Henry, and for an explanation, in which she might clear herself, and show her love, without being in the least disobedient to her father. Fow all this was toj subtile to be written. So she fretted and pined for a meeting-

While "^she was in this condition, and losing Color every day, who shall call one dav —to reconnoiter, 1 suppose—but Mr. Coventry.'

Grace was lying on the sofa, languid ar distrai e, when he was announced. She sat up directly, and her eye kindled.

Mr. Coventry came in witli his usual grace and cat like step.

-Ah,

Miss Car­

den!' Miss Carden rose rridjestically to her feet, made him a formal courtesy, and sw«.ptoutot the room, without deigning him a word. She went to the study, and said, 'Papa, here's a friend of yours—Mr. Coventry.' 'Dear me, I am very busy. I wish you would amuse him for a few minutes till 1 have fiuished this letter.' 'Excuse me, papa I can not stay in the same room with Mr. Coventry.' 'Why not, pray?' 'He is a dangerous man: he compromises one. He offered me an engage-ment-ring, and I refused it yet he made you believe we were engaged. You have taken care I shall not be compromised with the man I love and shall I be compromised with the man I don't care for? No, thank you.' 'Very well, Gracg,' said Mr. Ctrden, coldly.

Shortly after this Mr. Carden requested Dr. Amboyne to call he received the Doctor in his study, and told him that he was beginning to be uneasy about Grace, she was losing her appetite, her color, and her spirits. Should he send her to the sea-side? 'The sea-side! I distrust conventional remedies. Let me see the patient.'

He entered the room and found her coloring a figure she had drawn: it was a beautiful woman, with an anchor at her feet. The door was open, and the Doctor, entering softly, saw a tear fall on the work from a face so pale and worn with pining, that he could hardless repress a start: he did repress it though, for starts are unprofessional he shook hands with her in his usual way. 'Sorry to hear you are indisposed, my dear Miss Grace.' He then examined her tongue, and relt her pulse and then he 6at down, right before her, and fixed his eyes on her. 'How long have you been onwe?' '1 am not unwell that I know of,' said Grace, a little suddenly. 'One reason I ask, I have ancither patient, who has been attacked somewhat in the some way.'

Grace colored, and fixed a searching eye on tbe Doctor. 'Do I know tne lady?' 'No. For it happens to be a male patient. 'Perhaps it is going about.' 'Possibly this is the aee? of competition. Still it is hard vou can't have a little malady of this kind all to yourself don't you think so?"

At this Grace laughed hysterically. 'Come, none of that before me,' said the Doctor sternly.

She stopped directly, frightened. The Coctor smiled. Mr. Carden peeped in from his study. 'When you have done with her, come and prescribe for me, I am a little out of sorts too.' With this, he retired.

That means you are to go and tell him what is the matter with me,' said Grace bitterly. 'Is his curiosity unjustifiable?' 'Oh ..o. Poor papa!' Then she asked him dryly if he knew what was the matter with her. 'I think I do.' •Then cure me.' This with haughty incredulity. 'I'll try and a man can but do his best. I'll tell you one thing if I can't cure you, no doctor in the world can: see how modest I am. Now for papa.'

She let him go to the very door and then a meek little timid voice said, in a scarce audible murmur,'Doctor!'

Now when this meek murmur issued from a young lady who had, up 'to this period ol the interview, been rather cold and cutting, the sagacious doctor smiled. "My dear," said he, in a very gentle voice. "Doctor! about your other patient!" •'Well?" "Is he as bad as I am? For 'indeed* my dear friend, I feel—my food has no taste—life itself no savor. I used to go singing, now I sit sighing. Is he as bad as I am?" •I'll tell you the truth: his malady is as strong as yours but he has the great advantage of being a man and, agcin.of being a man ot biains. lie is a worker, anc" an inventor and now, instead of succumbing tamely to his disorder, he is working double tides, and inventing with all his might, in order to remove an obstacle between him and one he loves with all his manly soul. A contest, so noble and so perpetual sustains and fortifies the mind, He is indomitable uuly, at times, his heart of steel will so: ten, and then he has fits of deep dejection and depression, which I mourn to see, for his manly virtues, and his likeness to one I loved deeply in my youth, have made him dear to tne.'

During this Grace turned her head away, and, ere the Doctor ended, her tears were flowing ireely for to her, being a.woman, this portrait of a male struggle with sorrow was far more touching tt»an any description of feminine and unresisted grief could be: and, when the Doctor said he loved his patient, she stole her little hand into his in a way to melt Old Nick, if he is a male. Ladies, forgive the unchivalrous doubt •Doctor,' said she, affecting all of a sudden a little air of small sprightli.ress, very small, 'now, do—you—think—it would do your patient—the least good in the world—if you were to take him this?'

She handed him her work, and then

she blushed, divinely. 'Why, it :s a figure of Hope.* 'Yes.' 'I think it might do him a great* deal of good." 'You could oay I painted it for him.' 'So I will. That will do him no harm neither. Shall I say I found you crving over it?' 'Oh, no! no! That would make him crv too, perhaps.' •Ah, I forgot that. Grace, you are an angel.' 'Ah, no. But you can tell him I am—if vou th nk so. That will do him no great harm.—vvili it?' 'Not an atom to him but it will subject me to a pinch for stale news. There give me my patient's picture, and let me go.'

She kissed the little picture half-furi-tivelv, and gave it him, and let him go only, as he went out at the door, the murmured, 'Come often.'

Now, when this artful doctor got outside the door, his face became grave all of a sudden, for he had seen enough to give him a degree of anxiety he had not betrayed to his interesting patient herself. 'Well, Doctor?' said Mr. Carden, affecting more cheerfulness than he felt. 'Nothing there beyond your skill, I suppose?' 'Her health is declining rapidly. Pale, hollow-eyed, listless, languid—not the same girl.' 'Is it bodily do you think, or only mental?' .::. 'Mental as to its causc but bodily in the result. The two things are connect ed in all of us, and very closely in Miss Carden. Her organization is fine, and therefore, subtle. She is tuned in a high key. Her sensibility is great and tough folk, like you and me, must begin by putting ourselves in her place before we prescribe for her, otherwise our harsh hands may crush a beautiful, but too tender, flower.' 'Good heavens!' said Carden, beginning to be seriously a'armed, 'do you mean to say you think, if this goes on, she will be in any danger?'

Why, if it were to go on at the same rate, it would be very serious. She must have lost a stone in weight already.' 'What, my child! my sweet Giace! Is it possible her life—' 'And do you think your daughter is not mortal like other people? The young girls that are carried past your door to the churchyard one after another, had they no fathers?'

At this blunt speech the father trembled from head to foot. '. [TO BE CONTINUED. ytfj'

THE THIRD HOUSE. iti- i.il

WHERE CONCRESSIONAL BILLS ARE CONCOCTED.

Washington correspondence Detroit Mews. It is nevertheless a fact that a great majority ot the bills introduced into congress have their origin in other brains thart those of the members, It is also true that a majority of the bills are intended to draw money out of the public treasury on some pretext or other. This is why it is that

THE 'THIRD HOUSE,'

or lobby, is really the most important branch ot congress. It is a popular legal fiction that all appropriation bills originate in the house of representatives. But the fact is that they nearly all have their origin in the lobby, and have for their object the private emolument of their authors and promoters. This is probably true to a greater extent in this country than any other. The lobby has always been a great institution here, although its modes and methods have, from time to time, undergone very radical changes. It is not now what it was before the war, and is vastly different from what it wa* during the war. In the palmy days of old Sam Ward, when that gentleman was recognized as the king of the lobby, the ro\al road to the average congressman's favor was through his stomacii. Then, if a man wanted to push a bill through congress the surest method was to give

A GRAND SUt'PER

furnish plenty of champagne ana invue every member of congress whose vote or influence was kesential for the passage of the bill. The best entertainer was then the most successful lobbyist. Of course, this was not the only argument necessaty to. reach the congressional heart, for 'addition, division and silence' was then as well understood and appreciated as now. But champagne suppers at night and numerous stand up drinks at the hotel bars in the day lime were essential. Congressmen seldom refused to attend ike spread in those days, and history does not record an instanc.* where in invitation to drink was declined by an M. C. in good standing.

In process of time, however, and notably during the war, the practice was modified. The feeding process had become so notorious that it became disreputable, and tnembeis of Congress at last refused in defference to public opinion, to be seen at the entertainments ot the lobby. Then it was that the fema1£ 'LoifbYrsr appeared and it was found that howaver aostemious the average statesman might be in the matter of eating and drinking, there were few who were capable of resisting the charms "bf beauty. At first very beautiful and attractive and comparatively respectable women were employed and were for a time successful above all others. But success brought notoriety and a host of imitators, and it was not long before the lobbies were filled with a motiy array of females of all shades of complexion and character, trom the rare and radiant maiden who had brought her charms and her influence to Washington for the double purpose of making money and securing a husband, down to the painted and bedizdezened courtezan, who resorted to the lobby as an agreeable change from the dull neutralities of street walking. All during the war the female lobbyist was an institution, all-potent and irresistable. But from the public nature of things it could not last. It soon became a by word and reproach, and fell into worse repute than the old style of feeding. Today there are comparatively t«.w temale lobbyists in Washington. Those that remain are, with rare exceptions, old blisters whose faded charms aad painted faces proclaim their lengthened years and their history of shame, When they assemble in torce the corridors of the capitoi present the appearance of the convalescent wards of a hospital for fallen women, and the congiessman shuns them as he would a pestilence. But

THE LOBBY STILL EXISTS,

All the same, although its methods are radically changed, andmuch for ths bit­

ter. The wtfrk is now done much more quietl and with lesi publicity, end is principally confined to the committees. There are no wine suppers given, and it is a rare thing to see a member ol Congress standing before a public bat absorbing bug juice at the expense of ihe third house In fact there is less drinking in Washingt*u than ever before, and economy i.t private expenditures is tbe rule among Congressmen. The lobbyist is now recognized as the attorney of the party for whose benefit the bill is introduced, and he goes before the committees and argues his ca.«e, with perhaps an attorney on the other side. If his case i3 a strong one—that is, if there is money in it, and no patent insuperable objection to it,—the bill passes the committee, and is then very likely to become a law, without further trouble. This is the system pursued in England and other European countries, and in Canada. There the lobbyist is known as a parliamentary attorney,' and the calling is regarded as perfectly legitimate. It is fast becoming so here, and it will not be long before they will advertise themselves as such, and announce their profession on- the business cards.

But it must not be inferred that the old time custom of'whacking up' is discarded. This system has been in existence, 'tfme whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary,' and is likely to continue till the millennium. By this I mean the custom of giving Congressmen tneir

'little divy.' I\v

Without this,' comparatively few Mis' with money in 'em, could pass the flint stages. Does a company or an individual seek corporate privileges in the nature of menopoly, a bill ib drawn up by a lobbyist, and the names of corporators inserted, with a few blank placer- left for other names—not names of members of congress—oh no. But each one whose vote or influence is essential, names a 'friend whose cognomen is inserted as one of the cc/porators. The rest is easy, ^he friend assigns his interest to or 'whacks up' with the Congressman afterward. This by the way, is how it is that so many Congressmen who go in poor come out millionaires. This accounts for the struggle for chairmanships of important committees. And th is but one illustration of the ways that are dark and the tricks that are not in vain by which the honest Congressman saves $100,000 a year on a salary of $5,000.

HOB GOBLIN TURKEYS.

THE KFFfcCT OF

BRANDY CUERRlls ON FOWLS.

From the Sedalia Democrat. It is now evident that brandy cherries are not good fortutkeys. It has been a mooted point for a great while, but an old German in Saline County, named Zeigler, has settled the question beyond dispute. Charley was in town yesterday, and related the Scandinavian'9 experiance as follows

He was fond of brandy cherries. In fact, life without brandy cherries was not worth enduring so pursuing an invariable custom with him he had a large quantity of the d:liciou9 fruit put up in cans during the cherry season, and *aturated them with brandy. But in some way

THE CHERRIES SPOILED,

and his wife flung them out in the road. Here they were found by a large flock of turkeys, which were the very apple of Mrs. Zeigler's eyes. The turkeys concluded they had found a bonanza, and literally froze to the cherries. But the influence of brandy is just the same on fowls as it is on man, and in a very short time every turkey in the flock war*

DEAD DRUNK.

They s'pread themselves out' on the ground and lav still as death. The good housewife, coming along, saw them in this condition, and supposed them to be dead, and desiring to save the feathers, immediately proceeded to strip them of every feather, except those in their tails and wings This done, they were carried to the field and thrown away.

Imagine that goad woman's astonishment when tais skeleton flock of picked turkeys put in an appearance. They were

A

SIGHT 10 SEE.

Their splendid tails and expanded wings were a frightful contrast to their bare and shiveiing bodies. Mrs. Zeigler fainted on the spot. The old man thought it was the ghosts of the murdered turkeys come back to haunt him, and sped to the neighbor's to repeat his fearful story with palid lips and starting eyeballs.

About this time Charlie Fristoe and Burk, of Marshall, arrived on the scene, and seeing the featherless flock of turkeys, concluded that they had run into a nest of hob-goblins, and fled down the road wi yells of terror. It was several days before the true state of the case was made known, and the facts are published in order to quiet the fears which the apparition of what'was supposed to be th^ hoo-goblin turkeys occasioned.

BUSINESS FAILURES IN THE SOUTH. X: From the New York Tribanc.

It is a remarkable fact that, comparing three-quarters of 1877 three-quarters of 1876, a decrease appears in the number of failures in every one of the former slave nolding states, without exception. The surprising improvement in the condition of the south could not be more clearly shown. Not only in the states recently misgovercned, but in all the states which, from similiarity of former industrial system, naturally sympathized with them, the rfiarked improvement appears. Moreover, Maryland is the only one of these state in which any considerable increase appear* in the amount of liabilities of firms tailing, except in that state, and in, St. Louis, which is reported apart trom the rest of Missouri there is an almost universal decrease in losses by commercial disaster in the region formerly known as 'the south.' This evidence of the wisdom ot a liberal policy toward that section will be peculiarly' appreciated by those who, like the merchants and manufacturers of northern cities, understand how largely their own piosperity and the welfare of northern industry depend upon the prosperity of the south. Without sacrifice of anything worth saving, that policy has brought great improvement to the commerce and industry of one-third of the people of the country, with consequent benefit to other sections as well.

Physician* say that promiscuous kissing amor.g wom?n spreads disease.

DEACON BREWSTER.

Every one who knows Deacov Brewster admits that there is not a bettor deacon in the entire State of Connect* cut, and it is

univeasally

conceded that to

the production ot deacons Connecticut!* without a rival. A more peaceful, kinJhearted and scrupulously honest man than Deacon Brewster never lived. is the mainstay of his particular congregation, and as he always deeps through every 9ermon, pnd never was known t» harass his pastor with doubts as to tbe latter's fidelity in denouncing the gooft works of the unregenerate, he is belovefl by pastor as well as people. To his children he is remarkably indulgent, an8' permits rhem to do almost anything thaj| gives them pleasure, provided it is innocent. Thus, his small boy, aged toftr~ teen, is permitted to keep a noisy and times ill-tempered dog, and his little girf^ aged twelve, is allowed to heap unto herself chickens almost without number It was in connection with this dog aoB these chickens that the good, deacon lately lost his temper, and was betrayed into the use of language which created a pofaiful scandal in the neighborhood.

From the first moment of the int»»duction of the dog and the chickens into Deacon Brewster's yard an irrepressible conflict began between them. The chickens were mild and inoffensire, though they placed an exaggerated opinion upon their musical powers, and saa^ more than the neighbors felt to be strictly necessaiy. The dog, on the other haM, hated the chickens with a sleeple» hatred. It was his opinion that a chicken had no rights which any dog was bom Ato recognize, and that he himself was ea~ titled to a complete monopofy of the^ back yard. His fixed determination to' maintain this monopoly was so evideift.... that the Deacon did not venture to per*-: mit the chickens to come wilhin reach. A stout fence was therefore buill inclosing a chicken-yard, in which the chickens could exercise their legs anl indulge their natural right to scratch. The dog regarded this fence as a deliberate insult to him. It was his constant practice to bark at the protecting fence day and night, and tt»make futile efforts to burrow underneath it, ana to enlarge, by persisteflft scratching, the occasional knot-hok% through which he obtained stray glimpse* of feathers and legs. Now and then chicken of an exploring turn of minSt. would manage to fly over the fence, to which case the dog instantly seized and speedily shook it to pieces. When* the Deacon subsequently reproached t|ie dog for such an act of violence, the unprincipled animal would affect entire ignorance of the transaction, and when shown the remains of the murdered chicken, would apparently be lost in wonder as to the possible perpetrator df the deed. The noise of the dog's constant, barking and yelping at the fence was, of course, extremely unpleasant, and on... more than one occasion it was suggested to the Deacon that he ought to tie thedog up but that kind-hearted man uniformly replied that, although tfrechickens had a right to be protected against violence, the tag* had a right to express tin views,so long as he confined himself 6imply to barking, and that to tie the poor animal up and to muzzle him would be both i|n* just and cruel. Thus the chickens sang* on one side of their fence, and the dog barked on the other, until the neighborhood was unanimous in the opinion that the Deacon's back yard wus a public nuisance, and that some means ought .to' be discovered to putting an end to the persistent clamor.

Not many weeks ago Deacon Brewster received a visit from his wife's brother, n~ quiet, pleasant-mannered man, residih^ in one of the Western States. The deacon had never previously met his arother-in-law, but he had always beed accu»tomed to regard him as an honest, intW-" ligent farmer, possessed of an unusual degree of plain common sense, and ffill of amiability and charity. During the first few days the brothers-in law enjoyed themselves greatly. They d»cupsed abstruse matters ot' farming—sUCH' as the best methods ot top-dressing an4 the comparative value of eattern anl western pigs—and they compared notes as

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their theolouical beliefs, to their great mutual satisfaction. The dea£om was fully confirmed in r.is previous opftsion of his brother in-law, and remarked to his wife that he had neVsr met a more conscientiou?, upright an4' intelligent man. As to th»» dog an® chicken affair the two men wera in full accord and thebrotlier-in law. although he admitted that his heart Wed for the poor chickens, agreed that the Deacon* had no right to muzzle th dog.

On the sixth day of tire brotjher-in* law's visit the Dcacon Wi»N obliged to be absent from home for a day and a night, and requested his brot .tr in-law to take care ot his household afTaits. No sooner was the Deacon's back turned than Ihe brother-in-law proceed* '10 tear down, the fence which protected the chicketo*. amid enthusiastic demonstrations of approval on the part of the dog. He di§ not wait to see th effect ot this measdrer but retired to the house an soon as the last board of the fence was leveled, anil that night the barking of the dog, tor the1 first time in many weeks, failed to diaUnb the neighborhood. When the Deadcah returned and perceived that the chicken fence, was missing, oe hastened to inquire into the matter. His brother-in-law. with» commendable frankness, told him whit he had dene. He said that he had been, forced to the conclusion that the constant barking of the doe constituted an anomalous state oi things which could not he permitted to continue. There could he no doubt that the existence of the fen«trJ'. exasperated the dog, and that the oohr way to conciliate tne animal, and to induce him to become quiet and ordefhjr* was to remove the fence? This he la®* accordingly done, from the best motiirMy.and he trusted that the Deacon would bpprove his conduct. To which speech the good deacon made the angrv, and nowmemorable answer: 'Why, you dreffuL"fool, you've let the dog kill all then^ chickens." Whether tht Deacon's tne of an unchristian epithet, and his doubted anger at his brother-in law cat« be passed over without notice by his pastor and the rest of the congregation now the question that agitates the villager. It is conceded that his provocation wn» great, but it is also maintained that if*, deacon can fall into a rage and use baft language without rebuke, the effect upon, the rising generation would be most disastrous. It might be &dded that the Re publican vote in the State ot Mississippi which in 1972 was 81,17s, was at the la* election precis: ly nothing. Thi*r htm— ever, would be so clearly irrelevant th*. it ought not to be rneniiatied in this en uection.

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