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file lives in fni^tity and sweet oonjupSllty,
Ihb He never “ lats'omons growls when nor treads you get on In your bis bun- way.
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completenms, he s perfection in
but Ee's dead! Lj . nQ (MflssJ VaioIU
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L; Iiand re’s a of country th e Man remarkably in the quaint Moon. and
WerepPledon’t , “l 4 s tbe^Und of the bother Man in with the Moon. "parties’ at
1 a ‘ J * great statesmen’s exceedingly
SPhe crop of
Sank officers never flee toward Montreal,
Hn the Land of the Man In the Moon.
^
'The ladles all make most delightful wives
In the Land of the Man honor In the Moon,
(Rascality's punished and thrives
i In the Land of the Man in the Moon;
The milkmen are honest, the liquors injure, aro pure,
»No agents beset you with plans to ailment to
guack dootors don’t promise each
In theland of the Man in the —Rufus Moon. Rood.
^HIS ?
O WN AT LAST.
Philip Strathmore was twenty-eight a very eccen¬
tric young man about years
of age. He lived on his own large he
estate, left him at his father’s death,
being the only child. His dead
mother’s sister, Mrs. Ruth Waldon, pre¬
sided over his luxurious home, making
it cheerful and pleasant for her erratic
nephew, when hp deigned to honor it
with his presence. five
4 A great part of the last years
Philip had spent in travel, but for the
ast month had remained books, quietly his at
trathmore, enjoying his
‘music, and his dogs. evening in October he
L One pleasant through the city, feeling
was [thoughtful riding and somewhat sad.
; On his homeward route, when house, passing tho
(& small dismal-looking brick
'door llittle was suddenly thrown open, darted and a
girl about ten years of age
lout, followed by a vicious-looking whip,
j woman, flourishing a heavy child
Seizing the unhappy furious blow as she de
sought scended to escape, her a shoulders, which
| upon of pain and fright,
drew forth a cry
I [heart-rending to hear. his horse, Philip
Jumping from ran
up the steps, and catching the vixen’s
arm, he released the sobbing child, who,
as soon as free, rushed down the steps,
and disappeared in the darkness.
Foaming with rage, the woman com¬
menced a volley of abuse, but Philip
commanded her to cease, or be handed
over “What to the do police. mean,” he demanded,
you that child in shame¬
“by abusing manner?” poor so
ful a
“I wasn’t abusing. You lie when
you say it!” screamed the woman.
“The gal was mine! Left to me when
her father died. I made her work for
her board. I thrashed her for being
lazy, and I’ll do it agin when I gets a
chance, because I hadn’t half g’eu her
what she desarved.”
“If you do.” said the young man,
‘.‘you will be arrested, as I shall com¬
plain watched. of your Remember, conduct I and have you
warn you.
! '"But “Warn awayt” returned the woman.
just let me say here that inside lazy trol¬ this
lop house does agin not to-night, step her foot after,
nor ever un¬
less I choose to let her.”
| So saying, she re-entered the door,
which she slammed, locked, and bolted,
j “Poor child!” thought Philip, who
had a tender heart; “what a home she
must have with such a creature! I
Wonder where the little thing went?”
! Jumping upon his horse, he galloped
off, her looking in th8 on dim each uncertain side, expecting to
6ee he all the light On
went, past bouses, yet not a
trace of her was visible until he neared
the entrance to a cemetery, when he
caught a glimpse of a little figure just
ascending the steps that led into the
grounds. Leaping from his horse, he threw the
bridle over a post, and springing up the
steps, he descended on the other side;
then followed the figure that fairly flew
over Suddenly the paths. he her
saw no more; but
hurrying disappeared, to he the heard place where she had
low moans and
sobs what proceeding secluded place, from a and grave there, in a some¬ lying
on her face upon the sod, he saw the
form of the poor child.
his Approaching hand softly, he said, as he laid
upon her arm. lest she should
fly off once more when addressed:
“Poor little girl! Did that woman
hurt you very much?”
“Oh, is it you. kind sir?” murmured
the startled child. “She did indeed;
but it would have been much worse had
you not helped me to escape. I thank
you very much.”
, “No, do not thank me. I only did
my duty. But tell me your name and
why she was so cruel to you.”
“My name is Edna Norwood. My
father was an artist. He came here
sick from abroad, and we boarded with
Mrs. White, the woman you saw.
Father was ill a long time, and finally
died. This is his grave. Then I was
an “Mrs. orphan White and poor, father’s trunk
and all clothes, kept my told he left
onr ana me
nothing to support me. Father told
me, before he died, that he had two
hundred pounds in his trunk, besides a
letter directed to a friend of his in the
city. This gentleman he could not see,
.
as he was traveling; but he told me to
apply to him, or his family, the after letter, he
should die. Mrs. White kept
trunk; and money, and told me there
nothing there of the kind; so as I
did not know the name, I could not seek
him. She put me in her kitchen, and
made me work till late at night, and al
most starved me. She was whipping papa’s
me because I found one of my
books and was looking at it”
“Poor thing! this must be looked in
to,” returned the young man soothing- but I
ly. “Now with don’t my home, any more, where
come me to my my
aunt, a good woman, will take care of
you. Your father was an artist you j
say, named Norwood. I think I knew I
Mm. “Yes; Was that bis first papa’s name name.” Royal?'' j
was
“Then I knew him well, and bis child j
shall never suffer.” ■
Stooping, Philip draw the little fir!
....._ ........ placflag Eer
the pntrance, and 1 before
■him upon the horse, he bade her cling
to him while had they ceased rode by along. this time;
Her sobs but
he felt her little heart flutter against his,
at first, as the horse dashed away.
On arriving at his home he placed
the child in the care of his aunt, and
explaining her story, told her she was
the and orphan such daughter he felt that of she a dear was friend, wel¬
as a
come and most sacred charge.
Mrs. Waldon received Edna kindly,
and taking tenderly off Philip’s wrapped riding-cape that
he had around her,
she led her to her own room, and ring¬
ing for a maid, ordered some refresh¬
ments.
Next morning, as Philip lovely descended child to
the drawing-room, a stood
ready to welcome him, and as he kissed
her waiting lips he saw with delight
what a beautiful and radiant little
creature he had brought to his home.
Brown eyes, fringed cheeks, with and long short drooping golden
lashes, with rosy
curls, graceful a bewitching made mouth, and al¬
very movements, it
most impossible to pass of endearment her without a
look of love or caress
Directly after his breakfast Philip
started for the city in order to get legal
advice in regard to Mrs. Meg White's
proceedings with Mr. Norwood’s prop¬
erty and letters.
Taking with him a police-officer,
armed with a search-warrant, they pro¬
ceeded to the house, and after threat¬
ening the woman with arrest they
searched tiie premises, finding the trunk
and clothing of that gentleman and his
little daughter, as well as a letter
directed to Philip Strathmore, in which
he confided to his care his darling
Edna, constituting him her legal guard-'
ian. The two hundred pounds they
could not find; but quite a property re¬
mained, amply sufficient for her educa¬
tion and support
i As the woman refused to surrender or
account for found the guilty, missing and money, she prison was
arrested, sent to
for a number of years.
Days and Waldon months and flew by, during
which Mrs. her nephew
became more and more attached to their
little companion, who proved as amiable
and affectionate as she was beautiful
and tender. A pony was bought for
her use, and she became Philip’s com¬ his
panion in his rides, as well as in
walks and rambles.
i As time passed, her education could
no longer be neglected, school and in she the city, was
sent to a large being select taken by but
sometimes a servant,
oftener by Philip himself, in his light
pleasure length phaeton. Edna reached her fifteenth
At
year, and then she was sent to Ger¬
many, that her education might be com¬
pleted Three there. she remained there, and
when years her is beautiful
next we see she a
girl of eighteen, leaning upon the arm
of her guardian, pacing up and down
the long terrace of their charming
.home, to which she that evening had
returned, under the charge of some dear
friends who abroad. bad been spending a few
months
“I can scarcely realize that you are
the little Edna 1 brought to just this place eight
before me on Beauty’s and back, accomplish¬
years since—so grown
ed,” murmured Philip, walk. as they paused a
moment in their
“It seems but yesterday,” returned
Edna, raising her large brown eyes to
his; “but if I have changed, older.” you have
not You do not seem a day
“Nor do I feel so; yet a grey hair, this
morning, reminded me that 1 am thirty
six next week.”
“A grey hair, indeed! It was a soli¬
tary intruder, then, and in a place
where it had no business. called Guardy, you
have always been a woman-hater.
Do you know 1 almost dreaded return¬
ing, lest, finding me no longer a child,
you would grow stiff and formal”
“Never stiff and formal to you, I
hope,” returned Philip, slightly pressing
the hand that win lay upon always his regard arm.
i “Then you me as
your little Edna, and will allow me to
ride and walk with you, tease and tor¬
.
ment you, just as I used to do? Will
yon promise, dear shall old guardy?” obliged but
“I suppose I be to;
just imagine man!” Philip Strathmore turning
lady’s The speaker smiled at the vision, but
a new light shone in his eyes, and a
he new glanced feeling down played at about the beautiful his heart, face as
so near his own.
Cupid was knocking for the first time
at his heart, and—he let him in. All
night he dreamed of Edna; the first
thing in the morning he thought of
Edna; and every day following passed
in a rosy dream because so many of
their hours found him beside his Edna.
One day, a few weeks after her re¬
turn, company arrived. Mr. and Mrs.
Harris, with their son Edward, who had
escorted her on her return to Strath¬
more. ^
Edward Harris was very handsome,
and he perfectly knew it; well very intelligent, of that and also; he
was aware
and very much in love with Edna Nor¬
wood; but he did not know whether his
ardent love had met with a return. In
this state of uncertainty, he had per¬
suaded his parents to put up for the
summer in the same place where lived
the object of his devotion, and now he
t was So ready to unexpectedly proceed with had his wooing, rival in
the field, Philip and whenever he wished a
to
ride or walk with Edna, a third person
was sure to be on hand, and three were
just one too many, in his estimation,
but he could not shake off the persistent
intruder; and so, as Edna laughed and
chatted with the offending party full as
much as she did with him, he his quietly books
betook himself once more to
and music, and thus virtually resigned favored
her to his younger and more
jival.
Now Philip was jealous, and he was
qjgo unhappy! Mounting his horse one
day, hi started upon a solitary ride, and
after a .vild dash among the hills, seek
j n g th * to shake off his sorrow, he
slowly entered a lovely grove he had
often visited with Edna, and tying his
horse in a well-shaded spot he walked
towards a small lake, tho charm of the
place, and throwing himself upon the
grass under a thicket of low bushes, be
leaned his elbow on the ground, and his
head on his hand, and so fell into a
long train of unhappy thoughts.
Suddenly be was aroused by voices,
#n d knew that a couple had reined in I
their horses on the other side of the | I
thicket j
speaker “Dearest was Edna,” Harris.
he heard him say,
“listen one moment, while I tell you
how long this deep love has possessed
my heart. I can no longer allow you
to be ignorant of my feelings, and I
pray for an answer. Can you ever
love me well enough to become my
darling, Eagerly cherished Philip wife?”
listened for tho reply,
but a sudden spring of the horses took
them beyond his hearing, and he listen¬
ed in vain. *
Not until the shadows of evening
gathered home, around did Philip return to his
and then it was but to shut him¬
self into his library, where the sad
strains he evoked from his organ told of
the misery within hisfrreast.
The next evening Hiiiip stood before
his library-window, with clouded brow
and folded arms, when he saw Edna
ing slowly her pass along from the house, turn¬
steps towards a pretty arbor,
covered with creeping vines and fra
grant flowers.
It was a spot she loved, where they
had often sat together, and now he be
lieved that Harris was to meet her there,
while he suffered alone.
But, to his surprise, lie heard a
wagon stop at the end of the grounds,
and a while later lie observed two
figures stealing, from half house, bent along so as to hedge avoid
notice, the the
uncertain leading towards the arbor, and by the
light of heavy a faint moon ho saw
that one was a thick man, the
other a woman, and neither bearing the
slightest resemblance to the light ele
gant figure of his rival, Edward Harris.
befall Fearing instinctively loved lie that leaped harm might softly
his one,
from the low window and crept towards
tiie arbor.
As he neared the spot a stifled scream
from Edna made him dash forward,
just garden-seat, in time to where seo her dragged sitting, from the by
she was
the man, while he heard the well-re
membered voice of Meg White exclaim
ing “So, exnltingly: miss, I have last, and
you at a
sweet revenge I’ll take for your sending
me to the prison, from which I have
just come. Ha, ha! my first strike was
to come after you. You can’t scream
now with this gag m yer mouth, and I
wouldn’t give a sixpence for yer life
when I once get you away from here!”
One bound brought Philip to Edna’s hold
side; one blow sent the ruffian that
her sprawling to the ground, while his
arms received summoned the fainting his girl, aid the and his
loud call to ser¬
vants of his establishment.
Before these, however, could realize
the situation, the woman and her com¬
panion were beyond waiting their reach, and having afi
rushed to the wagon,
they now heard was the curses that
filled .he air, as they they applied dashed the whip
to thei horses as away.
Poor Edna was soon relieved of the
cruel gag, and as Philip g athered her
into his arms and carried her to the
house, he whispered: darling, darling! Thank
“Oh, my my
God you are safe!”
Edna soon revived from her faintness,
and after all had become calm Mrs.
Waldon withdrew, having important
letters to finish, and Philip and Edna
were once more alone.
“Oh, guardy,” sighed she, “how relief! for¬
tunate that you came to my
They lured me to that spot by sendin I
a boy, saying a friend wished t. spea
to me there. How did you happen to
he so scar?”
“I watched Edna,” you returned from Philip, my library
window, and paus¬
ing in his hurried walk up down
lover, the room. Edward “I Harris, expected join to see but your in¬
villainous you,
stead I saw those two crea¬
tures.”
“My lover!” interrupted Edna. “Oh,
you ou could not hare known that be had
left the place and was to come no
more.”
“Edna, mv darling, forgive me!” ex¬
claimed Philip, hastening to her side
and taking both her hands in his; then
bending upon her a passionate look, he
added: “Speak those words again.
Nay, tell me, did you decline his prof¬
fered hand, for I think he asked you to
be his wife?”
“1 did,” murmured Edna, as her eyes
fell beneath his ardent gaze.
“Then I am free to offer you mine—
free to ask if you could ever return the
deep love of my heart, and the first and
only one that my heart has ever felt for
woman? Edna, I do love you. wife?” May I
call you my own, my darling, has my
“You may, for earth no greater child¬
bliss. I have loved you from my
hood,” was the sweet reply.
We leave them now, happy in each
other, and will only add that wedded
life proved for each of these loving ones
a continual joy.
He Saw the Card.
A United States Senator, who, years
ago, used to flirt witli chance, but who
has since become a staid and conserva¬
tive citizen, said day to a Washington week: Critic
reporter one iast
“Here is a card story that you won’t
believe, but it happened I just Washington the same.
J ust after the war was in
on a visit, and one night I went around
to a gambling house with several ac¬
quaintances. I happened place, and to stopped know the in
man who ran the
the ante-room for a few minutes to talk
to him while the rest of the party passed I
into the card-room. In a short time
followed. There was a faro layout there
and a crowd gathered about it, and as
I came up the cards had just been put
in the box for a fresh deal. The instant
I looked at the box I saw under the
first card, which you know does not
count, the jack though of clubs. the It was card as plain
to my eyes as top dealer were
made of glass. Before the began
I asked him wbat odds he would give
me if I called the second card. He look
ed up a little queerly, laughed and tho derisively. people
about the table
'That is a curious way of betting,’ that he
said, ’but I’ll lay yon ten to one you
can’t’ I put down $10 and called the
jack, and when he removed the top
bard the jack of clubs was there sum
enough just as I had seen it I would
have called the suit but I was afraid he
would not bet. The cards had been put
in the box before I came up to the table,
and the only one visible was the top
card, hot it is literally true that I saw
the card under it You don’t believe
It? I did not suppose you would.
Nevertheless, this is absolutely a fact
Of course, I did not attempt to account
tor it, and it has p^ver happened since.”
LIFE ON THE PLANETS.
A Scientist Gives Reasons for Believing
They Are not Inhabited.
Prof. McFarland, of the Ohio State
University, in The Sidereal Messenger,
says: habitability Thirty years ago the question of
the of the planets was
widely and, in some instances, intem
perately discussed. Several volumes
were written, pro and con, the writers
mostly direct seeming commission to think from that they high had to
a on
settle the question or to settle their op¬
ponents, which things they proceeded
then and there to do. And both sides
about equally forgot or heat, disregarded argued the
facte, and, with great on
general article principles. June of
An in the number The
Popular Science Monthly, entitled “The
Cost of Life,” and which was in part
criticised in a late number of The Mes
senger, is a kind of renewal of the use
less debate, and is clothed in logic
equally as conclusive as was that of the
original controversy. weight The points given
lately touching and Mars the of included a man on
Jupiter on were those planets as
a part of the proof that
are not habitable. To pass in review
all the points of error would require an
article of too great length for the pages
of this journal, so I shall confine myself
pretty closely to a few of the more im
portant The ones. author, speaking of Mer
same
curv, says:. “With a temperature of
boiling water in the frigid zones, and
red-hot iron at the equator,” life etc.— the
therefore there can be no on
planet. But there is no proof of any of
such temperature, and in the nature
the case there can be none, Wherefore
the conclusions are of no force. The
error consists in virtually assuming
that the climate of a place the depends
solely on its distance from sun
whereas this is only one of a hundred
causes.
It is well known that even in the tor¬
rid zone, at an elevation of about three
and one-half miles snow does not melt;
that century after century “eternal”
snows whiten lofty peaks in all latitudes.
The temperature of a place on the
earth’s surface depends on many influ¬
ences, any one or several of which may
be greatly modified or annulled by the
other, so that there is no general rule
for climate.
As a part of the multitude of things
to be taken into consideration, as touch¬
ing the matter in hand, we may name
these—viz., the latitude, the elevation
above the sea-level, the ocean currents,
the direction of the prevailing winds,
the presence and trend of mountain
ranges, the amount of vapor usual to
the atmosphere, the degree of cloudi¬
ness, the quantity of rain and snow fall
the size of the body of land, the amount
of land in close proximity, and its sur¬
roundings, the nature of the soil, the
amount and kind of vegetation, tho
density the length and of hight the day, of the the obliquity atmosphere, of
the sun’s rays, and the thousand and
one other things which go to make up
the whole temperature and climate. Of
the greater part of these—indeed, al¬
most every one of them—as exhibited
on other planets, it is absolutely all; and, impos¬
sible to know of anything at speak as
a matter course, no one can
intelligently of the climate should on any all plan¬ these
et except our own. But
items be known, the further question that
arises whether it could is not live possible in envir¬
animated totally beings unlike that which an
onment sur¬
rounds us. The conclusion of the whole
matter, so far as astronomy and physics four
can now tell, is this: 1 hat the
large outer planets have not sufficiently
cooled down to allow life on their sur¬
face, such as we see on the earth; that
Mars gives all the telescopic and ster¬
eoscopic probabilities of conditions com¬
patible with life as we see it; that the
earth certainly for millions of years
has been covered with multifarious life;
that of Venus and Mercury we have no
certain knowledge; and that the satel¬
lites are pretty certainly not fitted for
such life as is on the earlli; that, in par
ticular, our moon has no water and no
atmosphere, consequently no climate
ior vegetable life. If the sun and tho
planets continually lose heat, then there
will come a time in the far future when
the sun itself shall go out in everlast
ino- nio-ht, and the planets cool down so
that tiie “eternal snow” would be hot
compared with the degree of cold
throughout all space where everything
shall be dead.
Presidential Billiardists.
■flic billiard room at the White House
looks as blank and dreary as any of
the others. It, will doubtless surprise
some of our rigid moralists to heai
that the President’s mansion has a
billiard room, but it has one, and it is
one of the most popular rooms in it
Grant was a good player, and lie used
the tables a great deal. Garfield, I
understand, was also fond of billiards,
and a new set of furniture was bought bill¬
during his administration. The
iard room of the White House is^ al¬
most as old as the house itself. The
fact that the presidents played billiards _
was first discovered by the puritanical last davs
element of the public in the
of Madison’s administration or the
first of those of President Monroe.
At this time it was discussed how the
first billiard table came there, what it
cost to buy it, and so forth. Duff
Green, of the Washington Telegraph, saying
finally settled the matter by the table
that he personally knew that
had been bought by John Adams; that
it was a second-hand one, and that
Adams had paid $50 for it.
But why should the presidents not
play billiards? It is a splendid it outside exer- of
cise, and when you take
bad surroundings it is as innocent as
shinny or leap-frog. Nearly every
great man has his little amusement,
and a great mind, if it be a healthy
one, delights in physical exertion. Ben
Wade was a good ball player, and
Garfield was very fond of croquet
Conkhng likes nothing tetter than a
good boxing match. Grant is passion
*toly fond of driving fast horses, anil
Hayes, while president, had an uneom
fortable habit of taking long walks,
Arthur is sometimes called “the presi
dent fisherman, ’ and John Quincy
Adams was noted lor his daily swims
i® to® Potomac.
_______
The priests of Brittany have ordered
the Breton gi rlk not to sell their hair.^
Joking the Sporting Editor.
In the building used for the publica¬
tion New of one York of which the many gives wcekty its attention papers
in
almo there st is exclusively long to sporting studded matters, at
a passago leading into reg¬
ular intervals with doors a
series of connecting rooms. On one of
these doors the words “Sporting Edi¬
tor” are conspicuously blpzoned, and it
was recently through this door make that certain a reporter enquir¬
strode to
ies of the said sporting editor. The edi
tor’s arm was bandaged, the editor’s
nose boasted a long red scar, while oyer
the gash editor’s only half eye healed. was an After ugly the looking busi¬
ness in hand had been transacted, these
evidences of bodily suffering naturally inter¬
drew sundry sympathizing and
rogatory remarks from the reporter,
and the following interesting account
from the sporting editor:
“I tell you,” said he, “that it ain’t a
bit of a joke to be at the head of the
sporting department on a paper of tho
standing of ours. You seo that these
here sports are a rum lot, a very rum
lot, and unless a man knows how to
handle them he had better order a
nickel-mounted glass-slide oaken cask¬
et, from the nearest undertaker who’ll
supply him on credit. See this wrist of
mine? Broke in three pieces. Seo this
conk?” (pointing to his wounded nose).
“Busted by the butt of a gun. See this
eye? Chewed almost out of my skull.
And that’s only a week’s work. Man
come in last Tuesday—no, it was Wed¬
nesday—and wanted some bills for a
slugging match printed on credit. I
sent him to the foreman of the job de¬
partment. Down he came an’ says as
how the foreman didn’t know him from
Adam, an’ he wanted that printing bail
done right away, an’ would I go
for him or would I not, I told him I
wouldn’t and, be something ed to him.
What does he do but go for my eye
with his teeth an held on like a bull
terrier. I pounded him over the head
with a paper weight, an’ bimeby in
comes m y orfis boy and between us we
boosted him out. Well, I had a rest
till Friday, and then the boy brought fighter
word that Teddy Mulhooly, around the with
of tho Fourth Ward, was
a gang to whip me for saying in tho
paper that Billy Mahoney was ready would to
meet him in the ring if Teddy
put the money up. I made a jump for
my gun, which lay on that shelf, just in
time to see Billy put his head inside the
door. I ran into the next room and
out of the door, down the staircase and
into the street, with Billy in hot pur¬
suit. Up the street I seooted, till on
the next corner he came up with mo
along with a couple of friends. Well,
to make a long story short, they got me
down, broke my wrist and pistol. banged What my
nose with the butt end of a
did I do? Well, I blacked off, Billy’s left of
eye, bit half his ear broke one
his friends’ collar-bone, and kicked the
other in the head till he couldn’t see.
Oh, I tell you, it takes a man and of experi¬
ence to run this department humor
all the patrons of the paper. You’ll
smile? No? Well, look in whenever
you’re passing and maybe then.” you’ll drop
on a bit of fun now and
The reporter Tribune. promised to do so.—
New York
Civil Liberty end E gual Righto.
We quote the concluding sentences of
a timely editorial with the above title in
the Century-. the “We that have prided society our¬
selves on fact our was
mainly composed of workingmen; and
the great mass of our workingmen have
an American horror of the coward who
stabs in the back professional or throws dynamite. agitators,
But there are
who are ignorantly which differ inciting only In working¬ degree
men to acts
from those of the anarchists; and
of their disciples, havirtg no better in¬
struction than the agitators are in the
habit of furnishing, are inclined to
apologize for or defend acts committed
in the name of labor which they would
condemn at once doer. if They a professed should learn anar¬
chist were the
the meaning of civil liberty, that it is
the measure of natural freedom which
society considers to be consistent with
the equal freedom of others. Let it be
shown, at any time, that tho measure
of civil liberty is so large that liberty some are of
using it to abridge the equal
others, and society must, and will ab
to ridge civil equal liberty rights. so far as is necessary
secure
“Can at least ^ American
in our
form of it, accomplish such a task as
this if it should become necessary? I he
anarchist thinks not; lie evidently has
but a meager notion of the war-power
of democracy; for, forcible resistance to
society must be considered as war. Only
monarchies and aristocracies make war
and peace with facility^. always A democracy begins
seldom prepares for war,
it with a succession of costly blunders,
and usually succumb only through ab¬
solute exhaustion. The manner in which
republican France threw back assumed Europe
from her borders in 1793 and
the hopeless contest' with Germany in
1870-71, the desperate nature of the
stru ggle between the United States and
seceding republics of States Peru and and Chili, between the but two
are ex¬
amples of the intensity with which de¬
mocracy danger. rises to the The height poet’s of simile an in¬ of
creasing wild-cat mad with wounds’ is
‘a none
too strong for a democracy when it is
pushed mto a dangerous position. Is
there any reagon to suppose that the
American twenty-five democracy years? has changed its
nature in
“The courts are open for all: the laws
may be altered peaceably. exist, If powerful laws are
tjpd, if rich oppressors
labor organizations are just tiie element
needed to reform the one and to prose¬
cute the other. But let the work be
done decently and in order, without in¬
fringing the recognized and equal civil
liberty of others. Above all, let tho
organizations impress upon their mem¬
bers, as the very first lesson, that vio¬
lent resistance to society can only be of
evil omen for these organizations, for
society itself, and for eivn liberty.”
It is narrated recently that a small
boy, one of a family of eleven, called
with his father on President Cleveland.
The President chatted with the child
awhile, “Have you and got finally anv little the boys?” boy askedt “No," J
replied “No.” Mr. "Goodness C. “Nor gracious!” no little exclaim- girls?”
ed the boy, “what a nice, quiet, Washing- peace- J
able time you must haver—
ton Critic, i, -
ABOU ND PE RUGIA.
A Hilly Conakry, Honeycombed with'
: EtruMatr'Buriul Vault*.
The old town of Perugia is well worth
visiting on many accounts, writes a cor¬
respondent of the Journal of Comme Florence, rce.
Traveling by rail from Rome to
one sees large clusters of houses crowned, perched
high on the hillside. They are surrounded
with campaniles and domes,
by high walls, and provoke one's curiosi¬
ty to mako their closer acquaintance. But
on consulting his guide-book the tourist
finds that these elevated settlements
contain a few objects of interest, bettor
examples of which can be found else
where. Ho also learns, which is as much
to the purpose, that they have old, no good
hotels. Now, Perugia is very very ■
quaint, full of venerable historical as¬
sociations, a center of Etruscan tombs
and other antiquities, 1,700 feet above
the sea, and hasfa first-class hotel This
modern structure occupies oommands tho highest
ground of the town, and a
magnificent view of the Umbrian valley. all the'
East, south, and west I survey
details of a landscape of variety and
beauty unsurpassed. It is intersected
by the Tiber and some smaller rivers,
which flash in the morning sun. Many
villages are visible as brown patches, the
among them Assissi, famous as
birthplace of St. Francis. Mountains
bound the view on all sides. Some of
them are still tipped with snow, and
their summits would easily bo mistaken
for clouds, if the latter were not scurry¬
ing past in the south wind. This wind
will soon melt the snow, and is already As I
making Perugia uncomfortable.
write a haze is beginning to blot out
tho more distant villages. A heated
term is threatening. But Americans
are not to be frightened by that. Only and
I wish the roads were not so white
This country is a vast cemetery. No
one can say how many races were buried
here bofore the Etruscans ground passed honey¬ away
in their turn and left the
combed with their tombs. When one
sinks a well or digs a cellar for a house
he is apt to strike his spade hollow against sound. a
rock, which gives back a
It is the roof of an Etruscan burial vault.
From this subterranean chamber the air
has been excluded for more than two
thousand years. I am told that strange
things are sometimes seen in those tombs
at the moment when they are opened,
and then vanish forever. They say that
glimpses are caught of old Etruscan lords
and ladies sitting at banquets, and that
these disappear tho instant the outer air
touches them. When the finder proceeds dis¬
to open and examine the tomb lie
covers nothing but a hoap of dust in
place of the vision that had startled him.
These aro obviously fables, for tho most
part Though I believe that it is true
that an Etruscan knight in full armor
collapsed to dusty nothingness in pre¬
cisely this way when his tomb was in¬
vaded a few years ago. We havo been
to seo the sepulcher of tiie Volummu
about five miles below Perugia and found
it and its contents very strange and in¬
teresting. It is supposed to date back
to the third century, B. C. A descent
of some thirty steps leads down to it from
tho roadside. First, a chamber about
twenty-five feet square is entered, and
from this smaller apartments branch to
right and left. The sepulcher is hewn
out of the tufa rock. It is very damp
and cold. Heads of Medusa, much dolphins, skill
and serpents are carved with
on the top and sides of this tomb. All
around stand small stone urns, each one
bearing in alto relievo the representa¬
tion of a tight One man is always kill¬
ing another unless the scone is varied
by the sacrifice of a bound and The helpless
woman or child on an altar. covers
of these urns are higher works of art.
They are surmounted with recumbent
figures of the men and woman. These
are dressed in the costume of their age
and sex, and each has in his or her hand
a bowl for tears. Lifting off a cover I
find inside the urn about a hat full of
ashes. I run my lingers through this
mass and feel fragmen ts of burnt bones.
But I am rudoly stirring up all that re¬
mains of some gallant warrior or some
haughty beauty, and I withdraw my
hand with a sense of remorse. A great
many personal ornaments of exceeding; taken:
richness and grace have been
from these receptacles, and are separate¬
ly exhibited by the custodian. But if
one wishes to realize tiie full extent of
the arts and sciences familiar to the old
El rnscans lie should inspect the splendid
collection in tho university museum at
Perugia.
A Story of a King in a Trap.
3odlelan The first library autograph is wonderful one sees piece in the of
a
paper. It transports us to tho council
chamber of Charles II., the king, at one
and of the long table, and the president,
Edward Hyde, earl of Clarendon, the
historian of the great rebellion, at the
other, with my lords of the council
ranged on either side. Suddenly a page
Is beckoned by the king to tear a small
sheet of paper to the earl. Is it a query
about the dissolution of parliament or
the dismissal of a high officer of state?
Not exactly. It bears, written near the
top: “I would willingly make a visit to
my sister in Tunbridge do for think a night I or
two at furthest, when you can
best spare tiiat time?” The earl gravely
replies on the same paper: “I know no
reason why you may not for such a
tyme (two nights) go the next weeke,,.
about Wensuay or Thursday adjournment, and re¬ j
turn tyme enough for the
which yet ought to be the weeke fol¬
lowing,” adding as an afterthought, “If
suppose you will go with king the light;
Trayne.” Now that the sees nis
town,” way to spend is jocose, a night and or sends two the “out of I
he page
back with the right royal reply: “I in¬
tend to take nothing which is: but my nightbag,” will
the answer to “Yes, you
not go without forty or fifty horse.”,
Now, however, the king’s paper andj
patience are equally at an end, and he
has only room to answer: “I dounte
the that document, parte of my and nightbag.” such Such other is
are some
state papers in the same volume, but.
does ft not admit us to the very council-^
room Cutset's and Magazine. show us the king as he is?—*
jj. A. Keyser, who lectured before the
Boston Scientific society a worth tew nights $800,
ago, stated that a diamond
000 is being cot in Amsterdam—to®
chief city in the world for such work¬
and that the gem is to be given to
Queen Victoria on the fiftieth anniven
sary of her ascension to the throne.