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She wwmmh Submit Published br the Tnratnni Pnbliablwc 00. 1 J. H DKVEAUZ. KawP VOL. 111. Love’s Errand. Swift through the ocean of Silence go, Sprite unseen! Dive to the echoless realms below; Kindle the depths with a radiance kwu; Then like an arrowy pulse of fire, Throb to the quivering stars and higher Into the vault serene! Glide through the mystical orb of Sleep; Pause to see, Born of the amorous twilight deep, Dreams from their chrysalis slumber free, Thronging the shadowy close of day; Wed with the loveliest steal away, Speeding again to me! —[Johiiß. Tabbin Independent. Ruth Byrne's Experience. BY Miss ANNE AYEKB. “It’s (lyin', mother is I Ochonc, what will I dot” Ruth Byrne, thus lament ing, is a sweet faced Irish girl of eight een. She and her mother have been all in all to each other. Iler father, an old man of exacting temper, is not a com fort. The dear mother has been long ailing and to-day has lain without speaking or stirring for hours. Ruth is alone in her distress. A heavy storm shuts in the cottage. Towards evening the rain ceased and suddenly, from a rift in the clouds west ward, a flood of sunshine Itroke’ gem ming the dripping trees with myriad diamonds. One golden ray streamed through the narrow casement and illu mined the face of the suffer, r. Then, either from the atmospheric change or some subtler influence, she stirred, opened her eyes, and murmured, •• fh< presence o’ His glory.” At the sound of her mother’s voice Ruth sprang to the. bed, trying to win attention. At length, exhausted bv the strain of the day, the poor girl flung her self passionately upon her knees, and wept aloud. The daughter’s grief recalled the mother to earth. Rousing, as from sleep, she said: “I’ve been forgettin’ meself; I thought I was in heaven! Ruth, daughter, don’t fret. Heaven’s nearer earth than ye think. Put your dear arm roun’ me. sweetheart, and lift me a little—so. Be a good daughter to old father when I’m gone, dear, ami when God takes father be a good wife to I Peter.” “Mother!" interrupted Ruth, drop ping her face into her mother’s neck. It was the first' time such a thought had been put into words. The mother eon tinned: “Do what’s pleasin’ to God. Use your privilege o’ prayer. It’s past tellin’ the power God allows to pleadiu’ prayer. Trust God—-trust.’’ Her eyes closed. It was the end. Peter Moors was the young coachman of the Ballymore stage-coach, lie and Ruth had been schoolfellows. The boy was three years older than the girl. Orphaned at fourteen, Peter left his native village and became stable boy at the inn from which the stage started. He loved horses and was earl v pro tfounced a “master han”’ with them, and this repute increasing, procured him, at eighteen, his present position. His holidays were usually spent near Ruth. * * * L’wo years hare pa-sed. It is Sunday afternoon in the fall of 1847. “Old lather” is sunning himself on the door step. Ruth and her bachelor, Peter, no longer undeclared lovers, at.: talking earnestly within. There is great distress in the laud. A wide-spread famine is destroying the .people, .Except for aid from England and ship loads of food material, gen erously sent over by the United States, many more must have perished. Whole districts, at the best, were but half-fed, and the change in Ruth’s ap . pearance, from Sunday to Sunday, tore Peter’s heart. He is determined to re main passive no longer. “Ruth, me heart’s jewel,” he urged, “let us wed at once, and then I’ll have a man’* right to carry you and father where we. < an eat our fill." The color mounted to her brow. Her heart throbbed tumultu uslj great temptation. She covered her face with her hands for a minute, then said, . calmly: “I must do what mother Peter, t would vex father, past bearin’, for me to give any man but himself first right to me,” Peter’s face flushed angrily: “If that’s • your will, Ruth, I’ll take me passage [ alone for the States this week, nnd send ; you, month about, what’ll keep you and j father comfortable.’’ Ruth swooned and would have fallen •but that Peter caught her. Lifting her in his arms, he strained her to his breast tn agony of self-reproach. “Beyant the sea,’’ she moaned, begin | ning to revive. Peter hastened to re- I assure her: “No, me darlin’, 111 stay. 1 We’ll starve and die together.” Ruth was herself now: “That would not be pleasin' to God, I doubt. We must trust one another wi’ him.” The next Sunday Peter was gone. At the moment of parting he slipped a little package into Ruth’s hand, saying: “A true-love token for me dear.’’ It was a roll of money; the savings of the past two years, hoarded for the set : ting up of their home. Six weeks after Peter’s departure old [ John Byrne died of .apoplexy. Ruth’s i faith staggered for a moment. “If I Peter had waited a little, or if father had ‘ only—” she cheeked herself. “What sim I saying’? God forgive me. His time's the right time." On the. day of the funeral came Peter’s first letter, written from Castle Garden an hour from landing. He wanted she should know he was safe over, without delay. AVould write again in a day o: two, etc. Ruth had not mastered all he : said wh n her mind was made up to ; join him forthwith Her neighbors. Jame- Dowries and lii- sister, Norah, i were going to Ohio, byway of New York; she would sail with-them. The voyage was uneventful, but .as they landed at the Battery Ruth read, f with a great heart beat, the words ' “Castle Garden’’on a flag floating over I a large building. “There, James, look! [ That’s where Peter stays. Do you go 1 first,” she added shyly, “and tell him I'm here.” She supposed Castle Garden was the name of an inn. James complied, but returned immedi I ately with a rueful face nnd explained i the mistake. Ruth was stunned. James ■ stood perplexed. Norah. as her | way was, plunged into the midst of i things; “Seein’as Peter's lost himself I entirely, it's Ruth's dooty to go to Ohier ; ami wait bi tter luck.” This advice proved a helpful tonic to Ruth's benumbed faculties. “Your meanin’.-' kind, Norah, but it’s other than that I’ll do. If James and you will bide till the morrow I’ll thank ye and set ye free." The day was declining. James found a decent lodging house where they I could stay the night. They must eat ! out ide, the housekeeper said, indicat in'* a suitable restaurant near bv, where o * they took supper. The girls roomed together. Long af ter Norah slept, Ruth kneeled in the moonlight supplicating to be guided to Peter; nor did she rise from her knees until a conviction that she was heard soothed her anxiety. She shrank from a second meal in public. 'l'he plainest breakfast at their lodgings would be a favor. The nous keeper was inflexible. They repaired again to the restaurant. ■ and were barely seated when Riuh- I attention was arrested bv a conversation [ Between two respectable looking men opposite. “What have you done,” said one, “with that handsome black mare of yours?” “Vixen? 1 sold her to Dawson. He wouldn’t have bought her, though, if he ba I not cured a young man as coach man who masters her perfectly.’ “Sure, an’ that's Peter,” said Ruth, half aloud; “I'll see." Norah retnon -1 fated, but Ruth WM Hf idy <■ W,-S .he floor. “An’ wasn't the young man Peter Moore, sir, then?" “Peter Moon- it was, young woman. ' Are you a relation of his?” “Yes that G--James P turning en treatingly towards him. James came to her relief, made it brief i explanation, and asked if the gentleman j could direct them to Mr. Moore. SAVANNAH. GA.. SATURDAY. JANUARY 7, 1888 “Certainly. I’ll write it down. At Mr. Samuel Dawson’s, No. • Broad way. They postponed breakfast and left immediately. The stranger accompanied them to the street to start, them right Returning to his companion, he re marked: “Moore’s sweetheart is a real Irish beauty, with that dark, wavy hair shading her modest*face, ami those danc ing blue eyes.” The party were within six doors of the house when Ruth, touching James’ arm, excitedly said: “There he is! Sec! Call James saw, and darted forward. “Ho! Peter, Peter Moore!” Norah followed. Ruth, whose agitation prevented an other leaned against a convenient t roe. Peter, reins in hand, was just about to mount the coach box and drive off, when James hailed him. Ruth saw his start of surprise, then the hearty greet ing, then the reins hastily put into James’ hand, mid then Peter was at her j side. “Me. own darlin’! How did ye know t.o seek me here?” “I’ll tell you the story later, Peter; but sure it’s God himself that’s brought me to you?” Then remembering her [objection to the restaurant, “Oh! if I lift’d gi’en me my own blind will this [ very moruin” I’d not be claspin’your hand now. dear. I’ve proved mother’s ■ words: ‘’l’he power God allows tn [ prayer’s past fellin’.' ” I “\Ye must thank him together all our t lives," rejoined Peter. James and Norah took their train for the west that night, but not until they had seen Peter and Ruth made man mid wife. Happiness needs no chronicler. !• is the heart's music. “He hath put a new -ong into my mouth, ” wits henceforth the refrain of Ruth’s life, and Peter’s manly godliness made the chorus.—. New York Observer, L»ce Made of Sheet Steel. “Very handsome, is it not?” A dealer in laces was exhibiting to an inquisitive reporter a remarkably taste ful specimen of lace of an extremely delicate pattern, and so light that it could almost bo blown away by a breath of air. Had it been woven of spider webs it could not have been much j ighter. “Very handsome, indeed. What is ; H made of ?" “Os steel rolled :e fine as the point ot a cambric needle.” “How was it woven?" , “It wasn't woven. It was stamped out of a sheet of low grade steel, so Thai it would not be too brittle. “What can it be used for?" “This is only an experiment. It was turned out of a small Pittsburg mill i mid sent to me to show what, can be done in that line. In the course of time other patterns will be made, heav ier. perhaps, bu certainly more ten acious than this piece. They can be used for children’s mid* rwear and hats very nicely. There is rm question as to its durability and its cheapness makes it the most salable of all laces in the market. 1 am. looking for its perfection with great interest. It will create a small revolution in the market.—[Mail and Express. Something Pleasant. “Can’t you say .something plea-ant to rm- ?" said a husband to hi- wife as he w i- about to start for hi- oflicr. They h id had a litt'c quarrel. mid he was willing to “make up. “Ah, John.’’ responded th<- penitent lady, throwing her arm- aroundbis neck, “forgive my foolishness. We were both in the wrong. And don't forget the baby’s shoes, dear, ami the ton of coal, and we arc out of jsitatoes; and John, love, you must leave me some money for the gas man.” --[New York Sun. Com folding. Telegram of Poet to Editor -Send me check for my poem “The Mystery of the Stars,” or I shall starve to death. Telegram of Editor to Pott-- If y»u starve to death you won’t need' heck •- [Yankee Blade. 1 Indian Mouthiers. Os all the different kinds of people among whom I have lived, the Indians of northern California carry the mem ory of their dead the longest, and I had almost written, feel their loss the most. 1 have often thought, ns the wails of the women came to me in the night, casting a chill and a shudder, something like a sense of indefinable dread over me, for the sounds arc ex ceedingly mournful —that the life ot these people, was a constant Giorno dei Morfi. 1 have seen old women, lent w ith age, rocking their bodies to and fro with grief in some dry, grass-cov ered ditch, moaning as if their hearts were breaking, and upon inquiry have been told that they wen moaning for a husband or children dead perhaps for vears, the thought of whom had struck sharply upon them while going about their occupation. Ah! they are mourn ers indeed, these children of the moun tains- mourners fortheir people, mourn ers for their lost homes, mourners for their fast dying race. —[Overland Monthly. Remark aide Pistol Shoot ing In a shooting-gallery in Louisville hangs a ’ valuable pistol, one worth about SIOO, which is the property of whoever will come and take it after fulfilling one trifling condition. The condition is that he shall equal a feat in pistol shooting once performed in this same gallery. A target was sot up the usual distance, for pistol practice, and about the white a moderately large ring was drawn about as wide at any point on the circumference as a quarter of a dollar. On this ring fifty marks were made, so that the .centre of the target was surrounded by a circle, composed of fifty vhit< spots. These were marks, competitors having fifty shots each. William Hanlon, oneof the famous acro bats, is a great pistol shot, and, some year- ago, stieceeded in making the re markable score of forty-nine out of fifty possible hits. This score has never been equalled, and the beautiful pistol offered as a prize still hangs in the gal lery awaiting an .owner, -[Chicage Tribune. ()neer George Francis Train. George Francis Train is about the queerest mortal that ever lived. It is more than likely that he is right when he says he isn't mad. George Francis sometimes sits down with a friend and talks about himself and his carryings on is rationally as an actor talks about his own performance on the stage, and with a good deal of the same study of method and of the • fla ts upon his audience. At such times Train forgets all about J’yscho and his vow never to talk to a man, and gives one the impression that he is a very clever actor taking a brief rest from the role which he has chosen to play as a life-job. When, at such times, he drops Psycho and, in so far as possible, himself. Train is as shrewd and entertaining a conversationalist as one would care to spend an idle hour with; a man of brains, keen perceptions, marvellous assimilation of facts, phe nomenal memory and epigrammatic ex pression -just such a man as Phil Armour delights in. -[('hicago Herald. t oons in < (innecHcut. Connecticut has loni* be n famous for raising very big crop-, of big, fat coons, but the magnitude of the yield this sea son causes even the veteran coon burners to open their eyes in astonishment and to comment: “I never saw th> lik' of it afore." Coons are everywhere. A patch of woods big enough to support one gray squirrel and family is compelled this year to sustain one coon and family, too. There is something the matter with the dog, or the tracking is phenomenally poor, if the hunter cannot bag a coon any night within a mile end a half of this city ; and a doz< n miles to th west* ward, in th rrr./. valley- of >alern, the Lymes, and in East Haddam a dog that shows his mader less than four ot fivecoorm after a night's hunt is thrashed and seriously informed that he is » cur. J New York Sun lfl .58 Per Annum: 75 esnts for Bii Months; 50 eents Three Months; Single Copies 5 oents- -In Advance. PEARLS OF THOUGHT. Good will, like a good name, w got by many actions and lost by one. Loyalty is the highest, noblest and most generous of human virtues. A miser grows rich l»y seeming poor; an extravagant man grows poor by seem ing rich. Education is the leading of human souls to what is best, and making what is best out of them. There can bo no great men for lack eys, since lackeys insist on measuring all men by their own standard. Frugal and industrious men are friendly to the established government, as the idle and expensive are dangerous. Joy, like a ray of the sun, reflect* with a greater ardor and quickness when it rebounds upon a nun from ths oreast of a friend Keep your promise to the letter, be prompt and exact, and it will save you 1 much trouble and care through life, and win you the respect and trust of your friends. Poverty is very good in poems, but it is very bad in a house. It is very good in maxims and in sermons, but it is very bad in practical life. Hope is the ruddy morning of joy, recollection is its golden tinge; but the latter is wont to sink amid the dews and dusky shades of twilight ; and the bright blue day which the former promises breaks indeed, but in another world, nnd with another sun. An Invalid’s Appetite. In the matter of food, it is important to please the eye of invalids. They should eat from delicate, china aiidglas*. , Ono expert nurse .'d ways serves beef-tea and milk in a wine-glass, one of the thin, bell shaped glasses that hold more ‘ than they look to hold. A sick person will turn away from a bowl of soup, and be pleased with a pretty cupful. Sick children, especially, are amused and pleased with the color and pattern of the cups and dishes, and there is a trace of the fretful child in every invalid. There is something very tempting in a small quantity. It does not tax the eye. Therefore, always present just as little as you judge the invalid wants to sec, A coarse, white dinner plate, heaped with food, will take away all appetite, while a small plate or saucer, especially if it is a pretty, dainty one, will .be successfully cleared. A mauve saucer or a pink plate will coax a fever ish patient to eat rice pudding or orange cream, or a few grapes when nil other arts have failed. There seems to be an appetite of the eyes as well as the stomach, and it must not be offended. Very often invalids are disinclined te the exertion pf lifting the head to par take of a nourishing drink. Let them have their way. A bent glass tube,sold for five cents at the ajmthecary's, is not a signal of extreme illness or lowness, except that the head may rest low. It simply means comfort, and the invalid need not be disturbed in a sick head ache or extreme fatigue, but can take ; the beverage provided without a change of position. The art of comfort is not cure but it goes a great way toward it, 1 When the nerves are not fretted, the body ha- a far better chance of recuper ating. American Housekeeping. ■ The First Greenback Paper. 'l’he bank-note paper used for the United States “grc- nback” was made j under the Wilcox patent, at the mill* of that old Pennsylvania firm, whoscftiilb, curiously enough, had also made the paper for the ccmtinentak currency of revolutionary days. It wr<s rendurod distinctive by the use of silk fibrea' as red and blue, the red being mixed with the pulp in the engine, so that it wi scatter' d throughout the eubatanc<Lof N the pup'r, while the blue wav ingenious ly sfiowred upon the web on the “wirfH 4 so that it appeared only in stre 4“*- combination was sodifficuit to <#>py, tad requir' d such expensive machinery, gw to call for a skill, patience and capi'isi not at the disposal of counterfeitornM* [Harper's Magazine. NO. 12.