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OCR YOUNG FOLKS.
POP COK.V
Pip, pop,
Hip, hop,
lip, top,
Pup corn!
Out of the pun,
, Into the fire,
Bi iixll nn and bouncing
, fi Higher and higher.
' (, White as new snow,
’ V*- . Yellow as gold,
•' /** You’d better be patient
Till it is cold.
THE TORCHLIGHT BRIGADE.
It was the number twenty-five that
did the mischief. If it had been twenty,
or thirty, or thirty-five, or forty, Phil
would never have got them all into
trouble.
The Torchlight Brigade—newly or
ganized and as yet unequipped—had
been having a picnic, a nutting picnic
in the Bear Hill woods. It wanted two
hours of the time set to return home.
The nuts were all gathered, the games
played out, and the boys were strolling
aimlessly about when Phil stumbled
over a low stone wall and went head-first
into a pumpkin-patch.
A pumpkin-patch in the midst of the
woods—what an idea! No other signs
of cultivation were visible—just this one
little spot partially cleared and the
pumpkins growing thriftily.
Phil sat up, rubbed his bruised knee,
and absently counted them.
Twenty-five pumpkins: which instantly
suggested twenty-five jack-a-lanterns;
and there were just twenty-five members
In the Torch-light Brigade.
“80-oys!” shouted Phil.
“Wha-at?” called back the boys.
“ He-ere,” cried Phil, and down they
all noisily trooped.
“ Hollo!” exclaimed Willie Bruce, as
he saw the vines.
‘ ‘ What is it, Phil?” asked Ben Ham
mono, hurrying up.
“What have you found, Phil?” in
quired half a dozen others.
“ .Tack-a-lantems, fellows,” he an
swered, “just twenty-five, one a piece,”
“Hurrah! Good for you, Phil.” And
a dozen of the thoughtless youngsters
were among the vines—half the pump
kins plucked off—and one or two in
process of transformation, before a boy
among them had ventured this sage re
mark :
“ See here, they don’t belong to us.”
“Who do they belong to?” asked
Phil.
Nobody knew.
“ Who do the woods belong to?”
Nobody knew that.
“Well, any way, anything we find in
the woods is ours. ”
“Is it?” laughed Willie Bruce, “then
I’ll keep this jack-knife—l just found
it.”
“Anything growing, I mean,” cried
Phil, quickly demanding his property.
“ I guess these sprang up here, just like
the nut trees. ”
“ Nonsense,” said Willie Bruce. “You
can see the plow tracks. These pump
kins were planted and tended; see the
line round them. We’ve no right to
touch them.”
“ Findings are havings,” said Phil,
obstinately. “ Come, fellows, pitch in.”
And he rushed for the biggest one, try
ing to stifle his conscience by adding:
“Pumpkins are not worth much this
year, anyway.”
His bad example was quickly followed.
The ruthless band soon despoiled the
patch—Willie Brace, lam sorry to add,
unable to withstand the temptation,
yielding at last and taking one too.
“ Now,” said Phil, “I’ve ju~t twenty
five cents. I’ll make yours, Ben Ham
mond, as soon as mine is done, if you
will run to the village, and get twenty
five candles. Make them throw in a
bunch of matches, too.”
Off went Ben and to work went the
boys. If their fathers and mothers had
•given them such a job to do at home in
two hours, how they would have groaned!
How the chips flew! How the seeds
were scooped out and scattered! Some
did double duty for those who had no
knives, and those who got through first
-went for poles.
In a little more than two hours the
jack-a lanterns were set upon the poles
and the candles wedged safely in, ready
for lighting. They hid their bags of
nuts and waited till dark. Then the
grotesque procession marched through
the village, shouting and hurrahing
and cheering for the presidential candi
date.
“ Massy sakes!” cried old Aunt Betsv
Leeds. “Look at them boys! what a
wicked waste of good food. ”
‘ ‘O, a pumpkin or two from a patch is
not missed,” said the minister, kindly.
“I like to see them enjoy themselves.
Hurrah, boys—that is right! cheer for
honest men like honest boys!”
An uncomfortable twinge of consci
ence smote their hearts, I am glad to say,
and they felt themselves unworthy to
cheer for honest men. However, they
kept up the procession till their candles
went out, and then broke up.
When the fun and excitement were all
over and they were alone in their re
spective homes, they wondered, with
misgiving and qualms of conscience,
who was the owner of that patch in the
woods, and wish they had not robbed
it.
The next day Phil and Willie returned
to Bear Hill to get the nuts they had
left there. As they drew near the place
thev heard a most mysterious sound.
Leaving the cart they had brought for
the nuts, and creeping cautiously for
ward thev soon discovered the cause.
On the ground near the plundered vines
lay Minnie Shaw—the minister’s pretty
little daughter. Her face and hands
were buried in a tuft of moss, and she
was crying and sobbing in a most pitiful
manner: her whole attitude showed hope
less grief.
“Wbv 'Winnie what is the matter?”
cried Phil anxiously, “are you hurt?"
"No-o-o," she sobbed.
“What is it then?”
‘ ‘O—my—pu mpkins—are—all—gone!”
“Your pumpkins?” cried both boys in
a breath.
“Yes. I—wanted—to take—musio
lessons; and papa couldn’t afford it, and
Mrs. West said if Cuthburt would plant
her some pumpkins, she would give me
lessons all winter, and Cuthbert planted
them for her and I tended them, and
they were all good, and just—ready—to
—pick, and now—they—arc—all g-o-ne!”
And smarting under her grievous disap
pointment, her sobs redoubled after this
confidence.
The boys stood abashed by shame.
Minnie refused to be comforted, and
what could they, the dospoilers, say to
comfort her? They saw tall Cuthburt
coming up through the fields, and fear
ing his wrath, gathered their bags of
nuts and fled.
“It is too bad. I wish we hadn’t done
it,” said Willie, contritely.
“So do I,” said Phil. “Pm awful sor
ry; I feel as if it were all my fault. The
rest of the fellows would never haw
thought of it, if it liandn’t been for me. ”
“We all knew it was wrong,” said
Willie. “Oh, dear, Ido wish we had
let them alone!”
“That’s so,” said Phil. “I’ll tell you
what, Willie Bruce, I’m going to tell
my mother all about it. I’m ashamed,
of course, but perhaps mother can think
of a way to make it up.”
Phil did. Ho went directly to his
kind parent with a true account of the
whole affair. Mrs. Bliss was very sorry
that her little son could not learn to re
sist temptation. She talked with him
seriously, warning him of hasty thoughts,
unchecked, which so often led to evil
doing. As Phil was truly penitent, and
anxious to make amends, she advised
him to call the boys together and tell
them what he knew, to propose that the
nuts should be given to Mr. Shaw to be
sold for Minnie, in place of the pump
kins.
“But mother, we have loads of nuts
and they are worth more than the pump
kins were, and we cannot get any more
this year. Wouldn’t half do?” pleaded
Phil.
“Do you think, dear, the extra worth
would pay Minnie for to-day’s disappoint
ment aud grief?”
“No ma’am,” Phil acknowledged.
“You see, dear, you not only lost her
property but brought all this distress
upon her also. We cauot measure the
full effects of our wrong doing. And I
think if you boys go withouts nuts all
winter it will help you to remember
never to take other people’s things.”
“Very well, mother,” said Phil meekly.
“I’ll give up all my share anyway. Now
I’ll see the fellows.”
Shamefaced enough, were the mem
bers of the torchlight brigade. Every
one of them loved the minister aud
admired pretty little Minnie, and they
would not have grieved her for the
world. What would Mr. Shaw think
now of his “honest boys,” for they
bravely decided to tell him everything
and to give up the nuts for Minnie’s
benefit.
They went at once and told him the
whole story. He was very kind.
“I am glad you came to me volun
tarily, boys,” he said. “I thank you
for that. lam sure this will be a lesson
to you. I am going to preach you a
short sermon.
“First: Never meddle with the prop
erty of others, no matter how small the
value may appear.
“Secondly: Try to check wrong
thoughts promptly.
Thirdly: If you have done wrong be
brave and confess it. Ask God to for
give you and to help you make what
amends you can.”
Mr. Shaw has preached many sermons
before and since, but I doubt if he ever
preached one that did more good.
Mrs. West was glad to take the nut
money for Minnie’s music lessons, and
became greatly interested in her promis
ing pupil.
Phil's mother, pitying the motherless
child of the poorly-paid minister, helped
her in every way that she could, and
under her instruction Minnie learned to
make pretty clothes for herself and little
comforts and dainties for her father and
Cuthbert.
The minister never spoke of the
pumpkin robbery, I am sure, yet ir\
some way the act and it3 amendment
became known, for “A good friend to
Boys,” presented the brigade with twen
ty-five naptha-torches, with wliich they
marched and cheered with honest
hearts.
Perhaps Phil’s mother ki ®w more
about that present than anyone else.
The members of the torchlight brig
ade have all vowed never to meddle with
things not their own; and I think they
will keep their own vows. But it will be
a long time before a boy among them
can see a pumpkin without blushing.
Wide Awake.
A Kentucky Rabbit Story.
A father and son went ou* into the
snow rabbit hunting. The snow meas
ured twelve inches in depth in some
places and at no place was it less than
six While strolling along signs unmis
takable led them to a hollow chunk not
more than three hundred yards away
from a negro cabin. The chunk was
crooked, short, and by no means over
heavy The son threw it upon his shoul
der and walked away to the cabin, where
he procured an ax. and in a few strokes
cut into the hollow. He inserted his
arm and took from the chunk two fine,
fat rabbits, and thinking that all left
In the afternoon the old man who lived
in the cabin carried into his r<>qm one
=ection of the chunk and threw it upon
the fire APr heating a while, and
“ii it"had nearly burned through, two
bouncin' 1, fat felioWs jumped out and
v.-c",. eaotuvd in the room. They were
.1 A anl furnished a most enjoyable
• u! for tae old darkey and Lis wife.
THE SEA’S LUVB.
BY r. K. WRATHItRLY.
Otic* in the (‘ays of old,
In the years of youth and mirth,
The sea was a lover bright ami bold.
And he loved the golden earth.
The sun, in Ills royal raiment clad,
Loved her and found her sweet,
But the sea was content and glad
Only to lie at her feet.
Ah ! that the !>urd shontd sing
And wail for the golden years;
Love was and is but an idle thing,
’Tis but a wind that veers.
Amt oarth in her beauty and pride
Held her lips to the wooing aim;
Ho said, “ Thou art fair, O, my brldo,”
And she sang, “ 1 am thine alouo.”
The faithful sea at her faithless feet
Hulled with a broken moan;
“O, sun!” he erlod, “but thy brldo Is sweet,
And I am alone, alouel”
Ah! that the hard should sing
And wail for the golden years;
Love was and is hut :v. idle thing,
’Tis hut a wind that >era.
Oft would the suu depart.
And his bride in her gloom made moan,
And the sea would cry that her loving heart
Should he left to pine alone.
And liis voice is strange and sad and sweet,
“01 love, not mine! notmino!
I am content to lie at thy feet,
And to love thee in storm and shine."
Ah! that the hard should sing
And wuil for ttie golden years;
Love was and is hut an idle thing,
’Tis hut u wind that veers.
Light on Mooted Questions of the War,
I had long desired to know the exact
truth from the fountaiu of Southern
kuowledge on the subject, in regard to
several important events of the war, aud
was agreeably surprised at the freedom
with which Mr. Davis met my inquiries.
Why Beauregard was ordered to lire
upon Anderson in Fort Sumter after
his surrender was inevitable at a speci
fied time without assaulting the flag, has
never been entirely understood. It vvas
the act of madness, as it made division
in the North impossiole, and I have al
ways believed that tlie real cause of the
order to open fire was to unify the South
and end the threatening movements for
reunion on terms. Mr. Davis answered
promptly and emphatically that the or
der was given solely because faith had
been broken by the Lincoln administra
tion in attempting to reinforce Ander
son, and that the South needed no war
to solidify its people. I think he errs
in underestimating the probable power
of tlie movement in the South for recon
struction before the war, but it is evi
dent that in deciding to issue the fatal
order for the assault upon Sumter, he
believed the Confederacy invincible, and
defiantly resented what he regarded as
a violation of the pledge of tlie Federal
Government. That act practically con
solidated the North, and thenceforth tlie
Confederacy was a fearfully hopeless
venture. On another important point
he answered with the ‘ same freedom.
When asked whether the aggressive
movement of Lee that culminated at
Gettvslmrg was adopted as purely mili
tary strategy or the offspring of political
necessity inside the Confederacy, he an
swered that it was the wisest of both
military and political strategy, but that
it was not dictated at all by political
considerations. He said that the wis
dom of the military movement vvas
proven in the recall of Meade from Vir
ginia and the transfer of both armies to
Northern soil; but, lie soberly added,
the battle was a misfortune. The chances
were equal, as he regarded it, for mili
tary success, and that would liavo de
ranged the whole plan of the Govern
ment and impaired its resources for the
campaign of that year. Asa military
movement, Mr. Davis says, the Gettys
burg campaign had the entire approval
of Gen. Lee, and there were no political
divisions in the South to dictate any de
parture from the wisest military laws.
I desired, also, to know whether, at the
time of tlie Hampton Roads conference
between Lincoln, Seward, Stephens and
others, Mr. Davis had received any in
timation from any credible source that
Mr. Lincoln would consent to the pay
ment of $400,000,000 as compensation
for slaves if the South would accept
emancipation and return to the Union.
He answered that he had no such in
timation from any source, but tliat if
such proposition had been made ho
could not have entertained it as the Ex
ecutive of the Confederacy. He said
that he was the sworn Executive of a
government founded on the rights of the
States; that slavery was distinctly de
clared to be a State institution, and that
such an issue could have been decided
only by the independent assent of each
State. Some of them, he added, would
have accepted such terms at that time,
but others would have declined it, and
peace w-as, therefore, impossible on that
basis.— Col. Alex. K. McClure.
How Grant Learned to Smoke.
General Grant has explained how he
became attached to a cigar. When at
West Point he tried to join other cadets
in smoking, but the experiment did not
agree with him and he did not form the
habit, nor did he begin to smoko much
until he began fighting the battle of the
war. Engaging in all the early contests,
he found a cigar of some service in re
lieving the mental strain upon him, and
when a battle was in progress he often
had a cigar in his mouth, hut still he
was not an inverterate smoker. On other
occasions he probably did not smoke so
much as most men of modern indulgence.
To his surprise he found the newspapers
making a point of his smoking, and
very soon boxes of excellent cigars began
to arrive at his headquarters from all
parts of the country. There were s*
many that all officers attached to his im
mediate service were supplied, and with
such a supply he assisted in sampling
until, as the campaign went on, he en
joyed his cigar on all occasions and has
since smoked as much as the best of
men. He thinks the newspapers in
fluenced him a good deal ou the tobacco
question.
A Strange Race.
In bor work, “Unbeaten Tracks in
Japan,’ Miss Isabella L. Binlgives somo
graphic pietur s< f the Ainos, or abori
; i e o tlie sland of Yezo, Japan. “Af
ter i lie yellow skin, the stiff horse-hair,
the feeble eyelids, the elongated eyes,
tin* sloping eyebrows, the flat noses, the
sunkeu cheeks, the Mongolian features,
the puny physique, tlie shaky walk of
the men, tlie restricted totter of the
women, and the general impression of
degeneracy conveyed by the appearance
of the Japanese, the Ainos,” sho says,
“make a very singular impression.
“All but two or three that I have seen
are the most ferocious-looking of savages,
w ith a physique vigorous enough for car
rying out the most ferocious intentions,
but as soon as they spoak the counte
nance brightens into a smile as gentle as
that of a woman, something which can
never be forgotten. The men are about
the middle height, broad-chested, broad
shouldered, ‘thick-set,’ very strongly
built, the arms and legs short, thick,
and muscular, the hands aud feet large.
The bodies, and especially the limbs, of
many arc covered with short, bristly
hair. I have seen two boys whose backs
are covered with fur as Hiiq and soft as
that of a cat. The heads aud facos aro
very striking.
“The foreheads aro very high, broad,
and prominent, and at t\rst sight givo
one the impression of an unusual capac
ity for intellectual development; the ears
are small and set low; the noses aro
straight but short, and broad at the nos
trils; the mouths are wide but well
formed, and the lips rarely show a ten
dency to fullness. The neck is short,
the cranium rounded, tho cheek bones
low. and the lowor part of tlie face is
small ns compared with the upper, the
peculiarity called a jowl being unknown.
The eyebrows are full, and form a straight
line nearly across the face. The eyes
are large, tolerably deeply sets and very
beautiful, the color a rich liquid brown,
the expression singularly soft, and the
eyelashes long, silky, and abundant.
“The skin lias the Italian olive tint,
but in most eases is thin and light
enough to show the changes of color in
the cheek. The teeth are small, regular,
and very white; the incisors and “eye
teeth” aro not disproportionately largo,
as is usually tlie case among the Japa
nese; there is no tendency toward pros
nathism, and the fold of integument
which conceal tho upper eyelids of the
Japanese is never to bo met with. The
features, expression, and aspect aro
European rather than Asiatic.
“The ‘ferocious savagery’ of tho ap
pearance of tho men is produced by a
profusion of thick, soft, black hair, di
vided in the middle, and falling in heavj'
masses nearly to the shoulders. Out of
doors it is kept from falling over the face
by a fillet round tlie brow. The beards
are equally profuse, quite magnificent,
and generally wavy, and in the case of
the old men they give a truly patriarchal
and venerable aspect, in spite of the
yellow tinge produced by smoke and want
of cleanliness. Tlie savage look pro
duced by the masses of hair and beard
and the thick eyebrows is mitigated by
the softness in the dreamy brown eyes,
ai’d is altogether obliterated by the ex
ceeding sweetness of the smile, which
belongs in greater or less degree to all
tlie rougher sex.
‘‘l have measured the height of thirty
of the adult men of this village, and it
ranges from live feet four inches to five
feet six and a half. The circumference
of the head averages 22.1 inches, and
the arc, from ear to ear, 13 inches. The
average weight of the Aino adult mascu
line brain, ascertained by measurement
of Bino skulls, is 45.90 ounces avoir
dupois, a brain weight said to excel that
of all the races, Hindoo and Mussulman,
on the Indian plains, and that of the
aboriginal races of India and Ceylon,
and is only paralleled by that of the
races of the Himalayas, the Siamese, and
the Chinese Burmese.”
Old-Time Epizootics.
Thanks to the general use of steam in
traveling, it is comforting to reflect that
in spite of the very great anuovance and
inconvenience caused by the Lorse dis
eases in recent years, particularly by the
epizootic which prevailed iu the year
1672, the inconveniences to which peo
ple are subjected nowadays in the lack
of horses are really much less grave than
those which our ancestors had to con
tend with, in similar cirumstances. For
our forefathers, the prevalence of a se
vere epizootic meant the cessation of all
traveling and transportation, whether
for long or for short distances; except
ing, of course, such service as may be
done by oxen and by men on foot. Some
idea of the gravitv of the situation is
suggested by the following extracts from
an old Birmingham newspaper: On
February 4, 1700, notice was published
that “the horses belonging to the Bir
mingham stage coach are so much af
fected by the present distemper that pre
vails among them, that its joumies are
obliged to be discontinued until their
recovery.” And in the week following
another notice appears under that of
February 11, 1700, “the horses belong
ing to tue Birmingham stage coach are
still so bad that it would be dangerous to
attempt their going with the coach this
week; but on Monday next, the 18th,
Mr. Peyton proposes that the coach shall
set out to go from hence as usual ; after
which he hopes is will meet with no
other interruption. ’’
Wh will give SIOO reward for a man
who, when he undertakes to make a re
ply in an article in the newspapers, has
never said, or been known to say: “My
attention having been called,” etc., etc.
I a it possible that no public man ever
read a newspaper, or, ff reading, does
not discover Lis own name the very first
in a million ems of matter? If there is
such a fellow, let him be stuffed for a
monument to the man whoever told a
Sis. —Rochester Democrat.
How Stanley Met Livingstone.
Selim Haslime, a young Arabian, was
the first man to greet Livingstone when
the expedition found tho explorer.
Selim says that he was induced by a
trick of Stanley having to go with him
to Africa, Stanley having promised to
place tlie young Arab at college, but
taking him on tho expedition instead.
He described tho battlo between
Stanley’s force and that of King Mirambo.
The latter wanted tribute before allow
ing tlio caravan to pass through his
country, but it was refused. During tho
conflict tlio men all deserted tho white
man, and Stanley wanted to givo up tho
contest, but Seliiu refused, and continued
to tight while Stanley wont back to find
his men.
Speaking of the meeting with Living
stone, the Arab said to tho roporter:
“When wo arrived very near to Ujiji
wo met two head servants of Dr. Living
stone. One was named Chooma, tlio
other Susie. They were dressed in
white shirts and wore white turbans.
They said, ‘Good morning, sir; how do
you do?’ speaking in tho English lan
guage."
“How did Stanley act?"
“Ho was very excited. I said: ‘Do
you believe now we have found Living
stone?’ Ho replied: ‘No, no; net until
I see him with my eyes.’ The servants
of Livingstone remained with us to show
ns tlie road, as it was yet eight hours’
traveling to Ujiji. I was at tlie head of
the caravan, and was tho first to see
Livingstone. Without stopping, I rushed
back to Stanley and shouted: ‘I Baw
Livingstone.’ ”
“Then what did ho say?”
“Ho merely said, ‘I shall not believe
it until I see him. ’ So I hurried Stanley
up to the front, and pointing with my
hand to tlie man whom lie hail corno to
find, I Baid, ‘There is Livingstone; see
him?’ Then Stanley’s calmness left
him, and ho lifted liis cap and shouted,
‘Hurrah!’”
“How did tho two men act?”
“Wo were then at Ujiji. Stanloy and
Livingstone stood afar off from each other,
looking hard at one another, as if they
did not know what to do. Then Stanloy
lifted liis cork hat and Livingstone lifted
his cap, which had gold stripes. Stanley
said, ‘Dr. Livingstone, I prosume.' I
forgot wliat Livingstone said. ”
“Did they embrace?”
“No, they merely shook hands. Liv
ingstono was plainly angry because ho
diil not see the English flag anywhere.
He did not like Americans to find him.
Then wo went to his hut, made of mud
and dried grass. Its carpet was buffalo
skins, and lion and tiger skins wore on
tho walls. We took seats on the floor,
and Livingstone was very anxious to
hear about the world outside. About
five or six minutes afterward Stun ley
said: ‘Selim, bring out tho last bottle
of champagne.’ It had been kept for
this occasion. I got the bottle and a lit
tle silver and gilt cup Stanley liad
brought from Bombay. We bail no
corkscrew, and I asked should I break
the bottle. ‘No,’ said Stanley, ‘you will
lose tho champagne.’ Ho took tho bot
tle and managed it in a way that saved
tho wine. lie gave tho silvcr-gildod
glass to Livingstone, and I brought him
an African cup mode out of tlio shell of
a cocoanut. 1 poured out the wine, first
to Livingstone and then to Stanley.
They drank throe times, first to America,
then to England, and last to Livingstone’s
health, aud to Stanley for liuviug found
him.”
Absinthe Drinking.
Absinthe drinking is said to steadily
increase in the Republic, hut much loss
steadily than in Switzerland and France,
particularly in France, where great efforts
are made for its abatement. It lias
grown to an enormous evil iu those coun
tries, notably in the largo cities, like
Geneva, Zurich, Berne, Marseilles,
Lyons, and Paris. At the French capi
tal the practice lias augmented alarm
ingly within eight or ten years, officers
of the army, business and professional
men, and journalists and authors being
especially its victims. A French physi
cian of eminence lias recently declared
that it is ten times more pernicious
than ordinary intemperance, and that it
very seldom happens that the habit once
fixed, can lie unloosed. The same au
thority says the increase of insanity is
largely due to absinthe. It exercises a
deadly fascination, the source of which
scientists have vainly tried to discover, al
though they have no difficulty in ascer
taining its effects. Its immediate use
speedily acts on the entire nervous sys
tem in general and the brain in particu
lar, in which it produces actual organic
changes with accompanying derange
ment of the mental powers. The habit
ual drinker becomes dull, languid; is
soon completely brutalized, and then
goes raving mad. He is at last wholly
or partially paralyzed, unless, as often
happens, disordered liver and stomach
bring a quicker end. The liquor is dan
gerously seductive, because it seems in
the beginning to help the digestive
organs, when it really hurts them, and
very seriously. Many persons have been
induced to take absinthe for indigestion,
and have thus fallen under its baleful in
fluence. The drinker is in most cases
in seeming good health, having no
thought of his peril, until the hour when
illness has declared itself. He is apt,
indeed, to believe that lib is remarkably
well, and to consider all the stories about
absinthe mere bugaboos. The earliest
symptoms of ailment lead to an exami
nation, and to the knowledge that his
entire system is deranged, usually be
yond restoration. His first illness is apt
to be his last, and death is a welcome
relief. Absinthe has not long been
known; in fact, it was not made a cen
tury ago. Some ninety years since a
French refugee, Dr. Ordinaire, settled at
the small village of Couvet, Switzerland,
The elephants sleep about six hour*
at night, sometimes getting up for a lit-*
tie lunch, Xhey also snore awfuliv.