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The Montgomery Monitor. D C. SU L'TOX, Editor and Pr >p’r. Some Day You’ll Think of Me. Some dav, mv darling-, when the rose has died, That on your pathway throws its petals sweet. When the sharp thorn is springing near your side And nettles pierce the mold beneath your feet, You’ll wish for me. Seine das', my darling, when the crystal cup Os Beauty shattered lies, and spilled its wine; When Pleasure’s urn denies your lips one sup. And you drink deep of Disappointment’s Urine, You’ll wish for me. Borne dav the wreath will wilt upon tby head. You’ll smell the hud and find a worm with in. Some day, my darling, when your friends have lied. And strangers mock your frequent tears, ah!then You’ll wish for me. ! iome day, my darling, when Death’s dews fall cold Upon your brow, you’ll gladly let me come— When dreams present the shroud that must 'f enfold Your limbs, and your sweet lips grow chill ’ and dumb, You’ll wish for me. You'll long for him whoso hands were oft \ denied / To pluck a rose lest they tbo bush pollute— Yet he would come and stand a slave aside. To grasp the bramble and the thorn up , root, i If you but wished for him. iHe’d kiss your feet the hidden briar had torn. And bathe the wounds with Pity’s saddest tear, Ale’d close your eyes that ne'er till death had worn k pur him one look of love, and at your bier Ua’d kneel aud pray Yor strength to watch you taiddon from his I eight. For strength to turn aside and leave you there Clasped in the arms of everlasting night; Aud yet, ray darling, not as great despair He’d feel than now. I v A GROANING GHOST. ' Some five-and-thirty years ago, when 1 was a young man, my father’s busi ness experienced a sudden and severe check. We were many in family, and ■the expenses of education were heavy. Jt was necessary to retrench. My father’s place of business lay in the [heart of the city. We had to keep horses, if only to take myself and my father to and from the city. The most important articles in our scheme of re trenchment were our horses and car riages. For all these reasons we re ceived to move eastward to within easy Eeach of our place of business. My irother and myself were commissioned find a suitable house. | After a long search we selected a Biouse that stood at the corner of a quiet, gober-looking, very old-fashioned square, feeing the corner house it was larger (than the other houses, and appeared [just suited to the wants of our family, f The next day I was lunching at my (usual chop-house along with two or {three acquaintances, f “Still house-hunting, Denion?” said rne of these. ‘.‘No, thank heaven,” I said. “We’ve igot a house at last. In square.” i “ —■ — square,” echoed he, thought jfully. “Why square is the . [Which number have you got?” 1 “No. 45,” I said. He threw his head back and burst into a tit of laughter. The other men lauged, too. I looked from one to another for explanation. “When you’ve done,” said I with dignity. i “Why, don’t you know,” said, my friend, recovering his gravity, “No. 45 [ square is haunted?" I saw the .other men looking at me, so I put on a bold front. [ “As if every one didn’t know that,” said I composedly. He was somewhat taken aback, but returned to the charge. “Well, you’ll have plenty of com pany there,” he said. “We shall have you appearing in the city with a fine head of snow-white hair, acquired in a single night Poor old boy!” I “Don't you be afraid,” 1 retorted. “There are enough of us to frighten any ghost. We shall crowd him out” “I bet you a new hat you don’t stop there a week,” said he. “Done with you,” said I promptly. “As often as you like. Any one else want to bet?” No one volunteered and the subject dropped. But I was extremely uncom fortable. In the course of the after noon I took my brother aside and told him. “Phew!” said he. “That explains the low rent. But it’s rather serious. The governor can’t stand anything of the sort. You know how nervous he is.” “Yes, I know,” I said. “And it strikes me that the best thing we can do is to move into the house ourselves, so we can tell him the story is a myth if any one lets it out to him. Just you and I.” “Right,” said he. “We have taken the house and we can’t afford to lose the money. Besides, it’s such a capital place.” The whole family were to move in about three weeks' time. We had no difficulty in finding a pretext for pre ceding them, and it was arranged that some of the bedroom furniture should be immediately sent in to our new domicile. We were going to sell most of our furniture in our West End house, and the new furniture could be bought immediately, and placed in No. 45. So at about 10 o'clock one evening, after a substantial dinner in town, we let ourselves into our new abode by means of the key, and took possession. A bright fire, lit by our landlaudy, was blazing in the kitchen. We had a plentiful supply of whisky «*id tobacco, and we macfe ourselves comfortable with our slippers and lounging coats, and prepared for a night of it. ••Uncommonly comfortable.” said my brother, approvingly. “Gad, the old lady knows how to make a lire!” • T And what a grate! And a chimney as big as a blast-furnace. There is nothing like one of those old-fashioned kitchens for comfort.” Ensconced in our chimney corners we passed the time luxuriously enough. We had made up our minds to sit up all night and show the ghost what manner of men he had to dual with. “We’ll take the ghost by the horns,” said my brother. “I only hope we shan’t have to take the devil by his.” 1 was not quite so complacent, for 1 in herited something of my father’s nerv ous temperament. However, 1 had company, and there was Dutch courage in the whisky bottle, so 1 kept up a stout heart. We were very cheerful and light-hearted at first. We talked over various boyish escapades; we criticised the characters of our friends and relations; we got the lidgets; we found we could not smoke forever with out burning our mouths. Finally the fumes of whisky and the heat of the fire had their inevitable effect and we began to doze. I do not know bow long I had been asleep, but I suddenly awoke with a violent start. A cold shudder ran through me from head to foot I had an indefinable sensation of something strange and terrible. 1 rose and stretched myself and tried to feel at my easy. But I could not 1 touched my brother and he awoke. “Hello!” he said. “What’s the mat ter? Why, I’ve been asleep! What’s the time?” “Two o’clock,” said I. “Just the time for a ghost,” said he with unseemly levity. “Do you know. Will, I don’t think he’ll come here. Ghosts are uncomfortable things and don’t like good tires- Get too much of them where they are, 1 suppose. Let’s go and look for him.” “Anything for a change,” said I, al though the thought of perambulating that great lonesome mansion in the dead of night was anything but agree able. “I am wide awake.” “So am I,” said he, and taking up the brass candlestick he went towards the door. I followed him—close. We passed along the passage, our stealthy footfalls making a faint sound on the uncarpeted floor. We heard aud saw nothing. We ascended the stairs: Every individual stair creaked horribly, bul that was all. No ghost. My brother suddenly opened the door of a bedroom on the first floor. Instaut -7 a gust of air blew the candle out. And as we stood there in the cold wo distinctly heard —a groan. It was no lancy. It was a long-drawn, wailing moan of 1 nc’xpressfbßs horror and pa thos. It died away in a despairing ca dences. It seemed like the sorrowful la ment of a soul in torment. As we stood there grasping each other’s hands, with our hearts throbbing in great pulsa tions, it came again. O, the horror of it! It seemed to be in the room and close to us. The cold was deathly, the silence broken only by that weird and awful moan. Once more it rose and fell —and somehow or other the next moment we found ourselves in the kitchen, with shaking limbs and ashen faces, relighting our extinguished can dles. Then wc looked at each other. “That was no fancy, Will,” said my brothel’. “Fancy —no,” I replied, my teeth chattering in my head. “What are you going to do?” For my brother had relit the caudle and was moving away. “I’m going to have another look,” he said. . "But, perhaps,” I suggested, “the — the ghost extinguishes the light.” ‘TU give him another chance,” said my brother, coolly. “Come along, you chattering idiot.” I was too shat tered to resent this unflattering de scription, and with a quaking heart I followed his foolhardy footsteps. This t!me ho opened the door more cautious ly, and we entered with every nerve strung to its utmost tension. Holding the candle on high, we looked aroumE Pure vacuity. And the sound came not again. “Foor old chap,” said my brother. “He can’t stand the light. Shall 1 blow it out again?” “If you do ,” said I. “But, jok ing apart, who is going to sleep in this 100 m? I’m not, for one. And this would naturally be the governor’s room.” My brother was struck. “You’re right," he said; “we must get to the bottom of this. We’ll find it out somehow. And now I think we may go to bed. I’ll just look around.” He examined the room carefully, but 1 there was nothing to be seen, neither was there anything to be heard. So we gave up the thing for that night and went to bed. I could not sleep a wink. My nerves were completely unstrung. After a night of tossing and fever, I awoke unrefreshed and mightily pleased to find myself in broad daylight. At noon that day I had to run the gauntlet of my friends. And, 1 am bound to say, I lied like Ananias. As the day grew on I grew more and more un comfortable and I fairly dreaded the or deJk of the ensuing night. As before, we dined in town. It was a line night and we took a walk around the square before turning in. The houses all i looked cheerful with their brignt lights 1 Ours alone was black and gloomy. We j agreed that at 2 o’clock precisely we ! would again visit the haunted room. There was no danger of our going to | sleep to-night. \\ e were painfully wide ! awake. All sorts of wild conjectures crossed my mind as we sat by the ; kitchen fire, waiting for the appointed j hour. Perhaps some maniac had taken * up his abode in the house and roved about at‘night uttering that awful i noise. Or perhaps some wily person had a fancy to live rent-free and had adopted this method of frightening the i MT. VERNON, MONTGOMERY, CO.,GA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER IS, 1886. tenants away. In any case the eiloct I was sutflciently horrible. The shock to ; one’s nervous system was the same, whatever tho cause. The whisky ebbed fast, but not so fast as my courage. Mv brother, cool and practical, was deep in thought Ho was not likely to indulge the wild speculations that crossed my brain. He was seeking some material explanation of tho weird phenomenon. At last the hour began to sound. At the first stroke my brother arose and took up the cau dle. 1 had provided myself with a second candle on my own account. We examined the rooms on the ground floor without success. We ascended the stairs and panned outside the haunt ed chamber. The passagors and tlio stairs above us were thick with shad ow. My brother turned the handle, and the weird sound died away as wo entered. In a moment it came again. It rose and swelled and died sorrowfully away. It was singularly human. Yet it was beyond all description unearthly. No banshee could wail in sadder or more thrilling tones. We stood there like Dante and Virgil, except that the au thor of the “Inferno” and his guide did not wear carpet-slippers or carry brass candlesticks. Neither had they such extraordinary rough heads of hair as we had. 1 felt mine going gray very fast. And a cold stream of terror trickled down my back. My brother stood still and listened intently. The ghost groaned again, aud yet again. In fact, lie kept on groaning. It was frightful. The wail began in a whis per; it swelled to an acute pitch; it died away in a note of woo that thrilled one’s heart. It was awful to stand there, waiting for the sound to come again. My matter-of-fact brother spoke. “He’s in good voice to-night,” tie said, approvingly. “A bit bourse, but I don’t wonder at that. Still, 1 wisli he’d try another key. He’s been at lliis long enough. And lie might got him self tuned—hush!” 1 quite expected some supernatural visitation to rebuke this ill-timed levity. None came. My t-rother, having politely waited until j Mie ghost had finished, began again: “All these groans are exactly alike,” lie said, considering. “That's odd, isn’t it? Will, I’ll tell you what. The ghost’s up tlie chimney.” Once more the sound came, as though to confirm his words. And it certainly did appeal’ to proceed from the region of the lire place. “Still,” resumed my brother, thought fully, “a ghost in a chimney is an un comfortable sort of thing. Will, we’ll have that chimney swept. Fancy a ghost coming down with the soot. We’ll see about it the first thing tomorrow.” This awful threat appeared too much for our unearthly visitor, for he gave tongue no more that night. We went to bed, aud 1 dreamed that the spirit of a chimneysweep appeared to me and confessed to the murder of one of the little boys who were still employed in those days in his profession. However, I got some sleep. I got none the previ ous night. We left the office early in the after noon. We secured the services of an intelligent sweep and a sharp little bright-eyed boy. The chimney was amply wide for the youngster to climb, and up he went. We waited in sus pense. When he came down he reported ' that he had found nothing. We ques tioned him eagerly, but he had seen no ghost or anything belonging to one. We sent him up again. This time ho found out something. This chimney communicated with the one next door. “That will be the kitchen chimney next door.” said my brother. “We must explore that.” Our landlady was considerably amazed when we pre sented ourselves and asked to be al lowed to explore. After a little demur, however, she consented. There was but a small lire in the grate, and this was taken out. “I don’t make it up until 11 o’clock at night.” she explained. ,“Not until my master comes home tired after his day’s work. Then we have our bit of supper and drink our grog, and we like to see a cheerful blaze. But in the day I don’t trouble about it.” The boy went up smartly and shortly reap peared. “Why, you’ve got a smoke-jack up there, missis,” said lie. “What’s a smoke-jack?” said my brother hastily. The sweep explained. “It’s a h-apparatus for roasting meat fixed in the chimbley. It has little sails like, just like a windmill, only they are laid flat instead of being upright. The hot airs comes up from the fire and blows these sails around. Then there’s a cog-wheel and that communicates the motion to a fly-wheel. A chain passes round the fly-wheel, coming down to the grate, and turns the spit.” “But where are the chains?” “O, they’ve been taken oil - , I suppose. It isn’t used now.” “I didn’t know it was there,” said our landlady. “Doesn’t it mike a noise?” asked my brother, with a quick look at rne. “We don’t hear it,” replied the land lady indifferently. “Will.” said my brother, “just run back to the bedroom arid listen. I be lieve we’ve got it. Fiji going to -end the boy up to turn the thing.” I lid a» he requested. When I got i > the room the ghost was groaning in plon did form. He Was going far fast than I had ever heard him before. The mystery was solved. We kept our secret. We were the ad miration of every one who knew the story of the house. And for a very sub stantial reduction in the rent of a very comfortable house we had to thank the Groaning Ghost. Belgravia. "SUB DEO FACIO FOR FI THE MIDNIGHT SUN. The (Jruiul Spoctiiclo to Il«» Witnessed Where Morning and Kveniiig Meet* No one comes to Norway without taking the trip to Nordluud to seo the sun at midnight. Tourist steamers make regular summer trips from j Throndlijcm; but, being a few days in J ad\anet; of the first of these, I traveled by a comfortable mail packet, and was thus enabled to visit all the coast towns. As almost the entire unite lies between the Skj.ergaard Islands and tho main land il is equivalent in snioothnoss to a rive voyage. The KjOlen range, ex tending along the coast, is remarkable for the grotesque and fantastic shapes rs its lofty peaks. Alternating with these snow-clad cliff’s are. smiling val leys and fertile fields, which give bright ness to the landscape. Arctic birds, penguins, osprey, and eider ducks, abound. Whales and porpoises appear. On the rocks immense numbers of cod fish are spread to dry. The course lin ing exceedingly tort nous, vessels navi gate only by daylight. . Tito harvest which Nature fails to yield upon the bleak shore is amply compensated for by that of the sea. The west-coast people are farmers of the deep, and luring February, March, and April make tlietr headquarters upon the rug ged Lofoten Islands. Hither the her ring come and eod and whale pursue. Prof- Huxley estimates that these eod consume 700,000,000 herring at a single banquet. In a single steng 25,000 bar rels of herring are frequently taken. The fish are driven into a shallow cove, nets placed across the mouth, and then they arc dipped out at leisure, to bo salted and barreled almost before they are dead. There are from 700 to 1H)0 fish in a barrel. Cod are caught with both net and line. Owing to the long arctic day, vegeta tion grows very rapidly. Barley sown in May is harvested in July. Even the tnrf oil the house-tops is covered with long grass. The same effect, of sunlight is observed in the animal kingdom. Wagtails frequently rear two broods in ono season, so rapid is the development of their young. At Bodo, the sun lin ing continually above the horizon, I was enabled to devote twenty of my twe itv-two Lours’ stay to an excursion inti the country, embracing a visit to the Sultstfom. This famous whirlpool, con pared with which the maelstrom see led .insignificant, is formed by the pre aire of.a rising tide forcing a stream thr [glj a narrow strait into a sub sidi ;y fjord. As the tide rises or falls last;.■ than tlie basin can fill or empty, iiie force of tlie current becomes enor mous and its roar terrific. Owing to eddies, a wedge-shaped wall of water extends inward from the mouth of the fjord until its apex disappears in the vortex of tlie whirlpool. At Trornso there is an interesting Lapp encamp ment, where the fur-clad nomads of the North bring their reindeer for Hummer pasture. There being no snow in the vicinity the desire for a sled-ride could not be indulged, from llammeriest, the northernmost town of Europe, the voyage is speedily made to that rugged promontory. Nordkap, from whoso summit tlie nocturnal sun is seen riding high over the mysterious Arctic ocean. Rly deepest impressions from wit miss ing the sublime spectacle of the mid night sun were received at a point near er the Arctic Circle. Il was one of those hushed evenings which occur with a falling barometer; so still that tlie glassy surface of the adulating sea was unruffled even by tlie breath of a zephyr. Southward, above a wall of cloud, majestic mountains reared their snowy peaks. Far in the west floated a fleet of fishing craft, and long lines of water fowl were wingiug their way to rocky resting places. Above the sun, which from my stand near the compass I watched swinging northward, lay several parallel strata of fleecy clouds. The water horizon rolled up higher and higher until, like a great golden globe, the sun rested upon its rim. The lower cloud stratum became orange-tinted. The next was dyed with saffron shades, while the rosy reflection of the upper stratum painted with delicate pink the Kjolon cliffs in the south. For several moments tlie motion of the earth seemed checked, the sun stiii resting on the ocean’s rim, and then— most startling vision! —a line of litrht appears below the fiery orb- the horizon iH retro grading. By thus forcing the mind to regard the sun as stationary iri his true position, arid centering the attention on our own planetary motion, an effect is produced far more amazing than that experienced by the startled Hezekiah when the shadow retreated on the great dial of Ahaz.- — Edward K. Taylor, in San Francisco Chronicle. Everything fair In War. Jonas H ,of Washington. Ind., toward the close of the late war, was body-servant to a quartermaster, and after the close, and when the quarter master had been mustered out, as Jonas tells the story, he requested Smith, as a last service before jiartirig, to take a large box on a dray to the freight de poi and ship it, asking Smith at the same time “if lie could read and write.” Jonas answered that lie could not, started off with the box, and on the way to tie station removed the shipping-tag which bore the name of the quarter master and that of the place the box wa» to be siiipped, and substituted his own name and address, arid by that means obtained a box of new army blankets the quartermaster intended to capture or steal from Uncle Sam. Jonas, who is fairly educated, said in extenuation of tbi.-> commercial transac tion: “Mr. Quartermaster‘captured’ the blankets from the government, and 1 captured them from lum. Everything is fair in war.” —Detroit Free Tress. llow to Make Coffee. Au English cook writes on this sub ject;' it is not good policy to purchase coffee ready ground, but if it must be douc the supplies should bo small ami frequent. Anyone may test the purity of ground coffee by shaking a littlo over a tumbler of clear, bright, i cold water, and leaving it for an hour | Or so. Pure coffee communicates its | color to water slowly, and when the | color has been imparted the infusion is | still bright and clear, and the color is never deep. But chicory and other adulterants quickly produce an opaque | and dark infusion. The difference is so striking that for ordinary purposes a better test is not required. To jilaco ! good coffee on the table daily is a • simple and inexpensive business, but it can not be done at a penny a cup, as some folks are in haste to aver. At for 12d. to 20d. per pound a good coffee ill j berry is always obtainable, and It] pence mav at tlie present time lie con sidered a fair family price. It is best to roast, and grind as wanted, but the grinding is tlie one important point, because ground coffee quickly parts with ils aroma, and there is a great charm in having it made immediately from Hie mill. In some houses tlie trouble of grinding is thought much of, but, as a matter of fact, it is almost nothing, and a mill costing only a tew shillings will last a lifotinio. Coffee should never i>e boiled; it should ho made with soft water at boiling heat, but if lull’d water must be used it should not be made to boil until wanted, for boiling augments its hardness. A com mon tall coffee-pot will make as good coffee as any patented invention, but a case litre is a convenient thing, as it pro* : duces bright coffee in a few minutes, and thus enables us to secure a maxi mum ot tlie aroma and dispense with the use ot any rubbish called “linings.” Every one to his taste, we will say, but as careless people make the coffee too strong one day and too weak the next the ground coffee and the boiling water should be both measured, and it will always take as much as four cups of water to make three cups of coffee. For the breakfast table the addition oi about one-eighth of chicory is an im provement, but. for tlie dinner table coffee should lie made, without chicory, because it dulls the piquant flavor of the genuine article. Two points in coffee-making deter people from using it the trouble of grinding and tin boiling of the milk. The grinding, however, must lie done, and it is reallj nothing, but the boiling of the milk can lie advantageously evaded by using Swiss milk, which harmonizes perfectly, and by many well-trained palates is preferred to fresh milk heated. I*ny or Pass. There is a general interchange of passes among railroad men, and the president and vice-president of the Fonnsylvariia railroad have passes all over tim country. Fresident Roberts is a very strict man. One stormy day in whiter ho got on the New York division and took a seat in the middle of the ear. The conductor knew him, as we all do, and when he passed him the president simply nodded. It was a catch, and Roberts was only trying to see if bis man would break the rules and not make him show his pass. The conduct or fell into Hie trap. When he passed through the train again, Roberts arose from liis seat, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said: “Seo here, you have not seen my pass.” “No, sir,” faltered the conductor, “but -but 1 know who you are.” ! “That makes no difference;” retorted Roberts with a frown; “the rules are made to be obeyed and not to lie brok en. The rules laid down for your guid ance say that any passenger who has neither a ticket nor a pass must pay his fare or you must eject him from the train.” “1 know it,” replied the conductor, “but ” “No ’huts.’ Now you may go." “I haven’t seen your pass yet. though,” demurely remarked the tick et-puncher, wishing to demonstrate tins thoroughness of the lesson. “That’s right,” replied Roberts, ap provingly, “make no difference between the president of the road and the poor est passenger.” Ho reached in liis inside coat pocket and then into Ids vest pockets. His face grew red and he fumbled around his hip pockets. The conductor grin ned. Roberts' sallow complexion grew paler and then redder. He went through liis pockets again, but no passes. The conductor’s smile grew more expansive. “Humph!” exclaimed tlie president. “Singular! Just slop as you pass this way again.” The conductor stopped, and the pres ident dryly handed him a $5 bill and told him to takeout the fare. He had left his book of pisses at his office. — —Newark Call. Knocking Over Tilings. There are hundreds of -people who 1 seem to have a faculty for knocking j things over. It is not sale to .Jet such j people come near a lamp or a valuable * vase. They are sure to brush against ■ it, and over it goes. 1 saw a slight j young man on one occasion merely 1 bru*. against a heavy marble statue am?it fell- fortunately on the grass of ! the lawn. He declared that lie did not ' push it, and I don’t believe lie did. It ! was unconscious magnetism. 1 hese people I speak of, whom other people call "clumsy,” are magnetic and un conscious of their power. It’s a queer subject and worth following op although where it would lead uo one can tell.— PliiladelftUiu Call. ~, VOL I. NO 38 SOME STRANGE HANDS. There U a Great Deal of Character In Them if We Only Knew It. Hamid reveal habits, occupations, trades, "says a writer in Cassell's Family' Magazine. A crop of them rises at the' thought, like the show thrust up from a crowd in honor of a candidate after an election speech. There is the carpen ter's, with tlie broad thumb, and those of the fraternity of Hour, ingrained, mealy, and white; the musician’s with the powerful wrist and the lingers deli cate, sensitive, and agile to the last de gree; the hand of the seamstress, with an honorable little bit of uutmeg-grater on the forefinger that works so hard; of | the scientific man, who lectures to ex plain mysteries to lower mortals, and whose exactitude of touch is the image of his mental precision, while the nerv ous stretch of his fingers corresponds with his tension of mind. The slight-of-hand professor is a man of long lingers. A conjurer with a slow and chubby hand would betray the aw ful secrets of the plum-pudding that is ; taken from the depths of your best hat. But besides character and trade, the bands toll the ago. Soft and routid. the baby’s nail - of pull-balls, with their fat wrists deeply ringed, appear as if they never can do anything in this world. Yet the girl’s hand will become a treas : lire, and the boy's hand will battie with life and with his fellow-men for the mastery. It is appalling to think of what those helpless puff-balls have be fore them. After the tirst dimples they become the inky hands of school; then the awk ward hands that don’t kuow what to do with themselves. Years pass, the boy’s hands ceases to grumble at gloves—yes, ho wears them in extravagant freshness, in comparison as his collars grow up ward, and his shoos tighten within an inch of his life. The result of these phenomena is that a ring begins to shine with charming strangeness on an other hand, that seemed a child’s but yesterday. The young wife tells by her hands that it is not long since the wed ding, because she cannot let that new ring alone, but twists it arouud for the novelty, and admires it with an uncon scious knack of carre,ssing it in idle mo ments. Her dimples disappear, as the children gather to make a home circle; it is the hand of the woman now, with j its very framework traceable. Dimples, bones, and wrinkles mark the three stages of life’s progress. With the wrinkled stage the steadiness of youth often remains in resolute charac ters. When the Duke of Wellington, was a very old man ho could still fill a, glass of water to the last possible dropi and hold it up steadily brimful. The/ j helpful hands keep their youthful ao-| tivity, 100, far into the withering agn., ! And in nobly-loving natures there is a sort of immortality of youth; the warmth of affection has given more than a royal prerogative; the hand is beautiful al ways to the eyes that know it familiar ly. The later years only stamp it with the impress of a longer past of tender ness, faithfulness, and bounty. It is not tho “old” hand but the “dear” hand, and it never grows older, but only more | dear. He who doubts the truth of this 1 last mystery has not yet found out that ; hands as well as hearts have a peculiar place in our knowledge and love of one | another. • Sharp-Witted and Close-Fisted. 1 This is one of the latest stories in connection with the Scott act: Some ' time ago a citizen ordered a barrel of cider from a manufacturer not a dozen miles from (iiiolph. The cider was not delivered at the time appointed and a few days afterward tho buyer asked the seller why he did not till the order. The 1 answer given was to tiic effect that ho J would lilce to be paid his money first 'The reply was that the money was all right and to deliver the eider at once. The seller accordingly went to the resi dence of the purchaser a few days after ward witli the cider. He would not de liver it until ho had received tho col lateral. After some talk '.he purchaser handed the man ,t bill. As soon as the order was taken from the wagon the purchaser remarked; “Now, you have played a pret y sharp trick on me, doubting my honesty, now I will have my torn. If you do not pay me back that I will inform on you for selling contrary to law.” The deliverer of the | cider was in a fix, so to speak, blit he was equal to the occasion. After a gen eral talk, in which it was understood that the receiver should pay for the eider at convenience, tho matter was apparently settled. The deliverer then asked all hands to have a drink, which, was served, when lie immediately asked for his sii, remarking that he waa not the only man who would bo com pelled to pay a line of S6O. It is need less to say that tho cider was paid for forthwith. — Ouelplt (Can.) Mercury. "Say. Jones,” said Bent low, “I un derstand that you and Jerflyn are no longer friends. What’s the trouble be tween you?” “Trouble!” replied Jones. “Trouble enough. He’s a scoundrel, that man is, a villain, a cowardly thief! O, if I only had him here now!” “Why, my dear fellow, you seem to be excited, i cant believe that Jerflyn is a3 bad as that. What did he do to you?” “Do to me? Trilled with the best and holi est feeling than man can know —friend- ship! Do to me? Betrayed me by his false, smiling hypocritical face! Do to me? Cheated 'me, outraged my finer feelings, bruised me, and wounded me. Do to me? Induced me to try to learn ride on a bicycle! 0, the Somerville Journal. *5 Martin Luther’s home as a child at Mansiiukl. Saxony, has just boon rt»* stored to its original condition. —,