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SUNDAY MORNING.
I walk down tha Valley of Silence
Down the dim. votaelea* valley—alone!
An<l I hear not the fall of u footstep
ArouiM me, save God’s and my own;
And tbe hush of my heart is as holy
As hovers where angels have flown!
Long ago 1 was weary of voices
Whose music my heart could not win
Long ago I was weary of noises
That fretted my soul wLb their din;
Long ago I wns weary of places
Where I met* but the human—and sin*
I walked in the worl-l with the worldly;
I craved what t r o world never gave;
And ! s ild: "in the world ea*h Ideal,
ThU shines lik H .star on life’s wave,
Is wrecked on lb® (.boras of Ih® lt-al,
And sleeps llk a dream in a grave.'*
And still did I pine for tb® Perfect,
And still found tbe False with the Tru;
I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven.
But caught a mere gljtnp'e of its Blue'
And 1 wept when tbe clouds of the Mortal
Veiled even that glimpse from my view.
And 1 toiled on, heart-tired of the Human,
And 1 moaned ‘mid tbo maues of men,
Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar
And heard a voice call me. Since then
1 walk down the Valley of Silence
That lies lar hoyoud mortal ken.
PHILIP DIXON S GAME LEG.
Mabel Vining was a bright, pretty
girl, with a complexion like wild rpses,
eyes like sapphires, ami a smile like a
sunbeam; and—a thing which is per
haps rather unusual In pretty girls—
her disposition corresponded to her
appearance.
Of the three men who were reported
to he in the running for her affections,
Philip Dixon had £IBOO per annum;
Walter I.ibstock, £1000; Alfred Her
bert £7OO. Mrs. Vining regarded them
In that order, valuing them by the pe
cuniary standard. Mabel's standard
was the amatory standard. One of
tho three she lowd. For the other
two, except as friends, she cared not
a rap. But she had not yet declared
her preference for Ihe favored one.
She wished lirst, of all lo bring her
mother round to her own way of think
ing.
"Dixon, my boy,” cried the love
crazed I.ibstock, "life Is impossible for
me without that divine angel. If 1
cannot win her for my wife, I shall
certainly go mad, or die, or both."
Dixon was a kind-hearted man, who
was readily touched by the sight of
distress and woe. So that, instead of
saying io the distracted lover, "Don’t
be a fool,” or "Die, then, and have
done wllh it,” he answered, sympathet
ically: ‘Tin awfully sorry for you, old
man. Have you proposed, may 1 ask,
and been refused, or— —”
"Proposed? No, Indeed!” retorted
Ltbstock, half fiercely. "What's the
use of my proposing as long as you
are hanging about after her?”
'.‘l? What the deuce do you mean? I
have never thought of Miss Vining in
that way. nor. 1 am sure, has she of
me,” exclaimed Dixon in great aston
ishment.
- ‘‘lStrtit.'rt-cMta' to see me this morn
ing and' toM me something very par
ticular. Herbert was good enough to
say,” continued I.ibstock, "that as ho
could not win Miss Vining and happi
ness himself, and that as she had as
sured him In the most candid manner
that there was no possible chance of
his ever doing so, he would rather
see me marry her than anybody else,
and that was why he had come and
recommended me to press my suit;
which, considering that he himself
had been rejected, was most handsome
and generous of him. Don’t you think
eo?
”1 do, indeed. I.ibstock. There's not
one rejected suitor in a thousand who
would beman enough to do such a
thing,” assented Philip Dixon, emphat
ically.
"But Herbert said—and I quite agree
with him." went on I.ibstock, fixing
bis solemn, gloomy eyes upon the
other's face, "that you are the obsta
cle. and that until you are out of the
way, Mrs. Viuing will not let Mabel
accept me.”
"Psba! my dear fellow. Miss Vining
has never thought of regarding me In
the light of a lover, as 1 have already
told you."
“But, as I, also, have already tolil
you, Mrs, Vining has. There’s the
crux. And so, by Herbert’s advice.
I’ve come to you as to a true friend
and a thorough good fellow, to seek
your kindly co-operation. Dixon” (his
voice suddenly took a tone of piteous
appeal), "you don’t love her. She's
nothing to you.lli he any
grief to you to have your proposal re
fused ”
“My proposal?" ejaculated the I
amazed Dixon.
"Oh. Dixon, my true friend, my dear
friend, my best of pals, couldn’t you,
for my sake, in order to ensure my
life-long happiness to say nothing of
hers—couldn't you, oh, couldn’t you,
write and ask her to marry you, add
ing that you had lately experienced
heavy losses, that your income was
now reduced to only £SOO a year, hut
that you—>ou—loved her very dearly,
and hoped that she would overlook
your poverty, and become your wife?
Of course, she’d refuse you; and under
the curcums'ances described in your |
letter, her mother would hack her up j
In her refusal So the pound would
be cleared for me. And all would
come right.' cried Libstcck. his fate j
flushed and his eyes burning with
eager excitement.
Dixon tried to resist. But the oth
er’s eager insistence carried him off
his feet.
And at length he was Induced, or
rather I should say. impelled against
his will by the lover’s resolute deter
mination, to write the letter. It ran
as follows:
“My Dear Miss Vining—l write to
tell you that I am very deeply at
tached to you, and to ask you to
marry me. I ought to say that I have
lately had heavy losses and my Income
is now reduced to about £SOO a year.
But If you return my affectien. as 1
earnestly hope you do. I believe tha*
we can be happy even upon £SOO a
year. I await your reply in great sus
pense. Yours meet sincerely,
PHJUP DIXON'."
Next afternoon at about 4 o’clock,
Übstork looked in on Philip Dixon to
see whether Miss fining's refusal was
yet to hand. Dixon’s housekeeper,
THE SONG OF THE MYSTIC.
Do you wk what I found In tho Valley?
’Tls my Trystinjr Place with the Divine,
And I fell at tbe feet of the Hcly.
And above me a voice said: "Be min**.’
And there arose from the depths of my spirit
An echo—‘‘My heart shall be thine.”
Do you ask how I live in the Valley?
I weep—and I dream— and I pray,
put my tears are as as the dew-ilrops
That fall on the roses in May;
And my prayer, iike a perfume from Causers
Ascendeth to God nl*ht and day.
In the bush of the Valley of 81len*e .
I dream all the sontfs that I sing;
And the music floats down the dim Valley
Till each finds a word for a win*,
That to hearts, like tb Dove of tbo Deluge-
A message of Teace they may bring.
And I hare seen Thoughts in tbe Valley—
Ah! me, how my spirit was stirred ! i
And they wear holy veils on their faces, r
Their footsteps can scarcely be b
They pass through tbe Valley like Virgins,
Too pure for the touch of a word !
t e
Do you link me the place of the Valley, ;
Ye hearts that are harrowed by car®?
It linth star between mountains
And God and Hie augel.e are there: t
And one Is tbe dark mount ol Borrow, p
And one the bright mountain ol Prayer. 1
—Father Ryan.
who opened the door to him, met him
with a voluble tale of woe:
“If you please, sir, Mr. Dixon bad a
nasty haccldcnt hafter luncheon to
day, sir; he fell down stairs, sir. and
damaged himself rather serious. He’s
now confined to his bed. sir, but he'll
sec you, he told me, though he’s in
too much pain to see no one helse. And
I do 'ope as you’ll indooce him to see
a doctor, sir; which I've been wanting
to send for one hall this hafternoon.
But he won't let mo. He's very obsti
nate at times, is Mr. Philip. Will you
•step this way, sir?”
I.ibstock stepped that way, which
was up to Dixon’s bedroom. He found
his friend in bed, looking very much
shaken.
"Awfully sorry to hear of your acci
dent. old man," he said. “I hope it’s
nothing serious.”
“No-o-o! 1 say. Is the door shut?”
demanded Dixon, In a hoarse whisper.
I.ibstock replied in the affirmative.
“I must tell you the truth,” said
Dixon, who was evldontly in a state
of extreme agitation. "I'm not hurt a
bit. My accident was all a sham. But
that's quite a minor matter. I.ibstock,
an awful a terrible thing has hap
pened. Mlsb Vining has accepted me."
"Accepted you?” cried I.ibstock,
turning as pale as death.
"Yes, she has accepted me, in spite
of my reduced fortunes. It appears
that she has been in love with me
for a long while. I wish to heaven I
had known It before I was fool enough
to write to her. But there's her let
ter. Read It for yourself.”
He tossed it over to LListock, who
took it up in his trembling fingers,
and read this;
“My Dear Mr. Dixc <—Your letter
has made me very h I have cared,
for Sroq—jWcsn’t. thlntf how long aAd
how truly. Please come and see .'fee
at once. Your loving MABEL.”
"It's an awful position—isn’t. It?”
ejaculated Dixon, wiping the perspira
tion from his forehead. "Ypu can’t
think what my feelings were when
that letter came. Of eourse, It was
out of the question that I could go nnrli
see her. So 1 made a show of falling
down stairs and laming myself in or
der that 1 might be conflued to my
bed and thus debarred from all pos
sible chance of an interview, while 1
am turning over in my mind what is
to he done to escape from this terrible
situation.”
.lust then catne a loud ring at Ilia
front door bell.
"That’s she. 1 know it’s she,” Dix
on almost shrieked, so great was his
agitation. "Don't let her tome up
here. I won’t see her. I —"
Libstocl: went to the door. There
stood Mrs. Blake, bearing a note upon
a salver.
“It’s front her,” he said, "How well
I know her dear writing. Another
love letter! Oh. Dixon!" (with a deep
drawn groan) "if only you had the
sense to know your own luck!”
"My Dearest One—l am so grieved to
hear of your accident. Manttna says
shall she come and nurse you? Your
devoted MABEL.”
"Luck? Do you call this luck?”
ejaculated Dixon, almost beside him
self with agitation. "Here, give me
paper and pencil, quick, and that copy
of the Field lo write upon. Como and
nurse me, indeed! I must, put a stop
per on that at once. Let me see.
What lie can I tell? Ah, I have it.”
And ho hastily scribbled these
words:
"It is too sweet of your dear moth
er. But I already have two trained
nurses. And the doctor says he won't
answer for my life if I am allowed to
see any one. Your affectionate
"PHILIP.’’
This mendacious epistle, after being
duly sealed up in an envelope, was
handed to Mrs. Blake for delivery to
the “young pusson,” who was “waiting
for the hanswer.”
Shortly afterwards Libstock, in the
depths of gloom and despair, took his
departure, leaving the unfortunate
Dixon to bear his situation as best
lie might. He had got his friend into
ihe hole. But he did not appear to
feel that there was any obligation on
i tiis part to get him out of it again.
He was thinking only of himself and
his own departed dream of happiness.
No such selfish being on the earth as
a disappointed lover!
Dixon remained in his be.lroom for a
week, during which he had notes dally
from Mabel Vining, each of which ren
dered him more frantic than the last.
He must write and tell her the truth,
rescinding all former fairy tales. He
dared not. He must. At last he nerved
! himself to write the difficult letter.
“it will be a fearful blow to her," he
ioii!oqutzed. "She will say—and tru
i !y—that I have behaved awfully bad
j!y I tope it won’t break her heart I
dread receiving her reply more than l
can say."
Break her heart! Not a bit of It
| Miss Vining’s reply was of the most
! cheerful description. Here It is in x
-| tenso:
"My *Vear Mr. Dixon—lt’s all right.
; Don t apologize. Mr. Übstock was
very tiresome, and Alfred and I de
elded that he must be got rid of; espe
cially as mamma, with the best possi
ble intentions, was always making op
portunities for me to be with him
alone. So, by dint of plausible fic
tions, Alfred induced him to induce
you (whom he knew to be tne best na
tured and compliant of mortals) to
write me a certain letter.
“I accepted you. I can imagine your
horror when you received my accept
ance. I laughed myself to sleep that
night thinking of it. Any way, it set
tled Mr. I.ibstock. Moreover, mam
ma, when she heard through me of
your losses, dismissed you also from
her plans altogether. I may say, I
told her that 1 had refused you, which.
In fact, though not in words, is the
truth.
"She is now resigned to my marriage
with Alfred, which will take place in
the summer.
‘‘Forgive mo for having played a
trick upon you, on my own account,
beyond what was strictly necessary.
You deserved it for telling me those
shocking fibs. Yours very sincerely,
“MABEL. VINING.”
"P. S. —How's yonr poor leg? I
wonder at its condition, seeing how
shamefully it has been pulled.
“M. V.”
BARNUM IN EUROPE.
The Armies of the Continent Take
Lessons in Organizations.
Throughout the military camps of
Europe, where military organization
Is a matter of national pride and inter
national repute, tho movement of the
circus was considered litto less than
marvelous. These operations were
watched officially by hundreds of offi
cers, and have been the subject of
many official reports.
In this respect the influence of the
American circus has been felt through
out Europe. Take, for instance, the
circus method of driving a pole in the
ground. Half a dozen men, each with
a sledge, stand In a circle, striking the
peg in turn with bewildering rapidity.
Before the coming of the circus, one
fian would work alone over a peg,
though it took an hour. Today in the
streets of London or in the camps of
the Oermaji armies, you will find men
following the circus method. And
again, to cite an instance among many
take the modern car coupling. The
mile-long circus train was equipped
with American couplings. Tho rail
roads abroad viewed them at first with
distrust, but later adopted them en
thusiastically. Considering their great
er comfort and safety, this is certainly
a conquest of which to be proud.
The world has heard much of the or
ganization of the Prussian army. For
months tbe American circus moved in
the very stronghold of these famous
regiments, and the comparison made
possible was highly instructive. The
circus feed its hands simply but plen
tifully, and the food left over is
thrown away. In Prussia it was not
an uncommon sight-to see uniformed
soldtea* ptrktfig the discarded meat
from the refuse, washing it, and car
rying it off. Frequently tbe circus in
engaged, m rani when in’ their
slat ion were acrnstrffiC T having
meyt but once a week. A few days
always sufficed to make them raven
ous meat eaters.—Woman's Home
Companion.
QUAINT AND CURIOUS.
An Ohio man has one of the most
unique collections of autographs in the
country. It contains the names of over
twelve thousand actors and actresses,
besides 170(5 pictures, and over fifty
thousand programs, posters and the
like.
The antiquity of the fan in the East
particularly in Asia, extends far hack
beyond the possibility of ascertaining
its date. In China and India the orig
inal model of the fan was the wing
of a bird, and at one time was part of
the emblems of imperial authority.
A German firm bn the w'ell known
town Of Essen are making a good
thing out of old sardine tins. Huge
quantities of old tins are conveyed to
(lie works, where they are treated by a
system of electrolytic deposition, and
the tin and iron recovered for use in
manufacturing metal goods.
There Is an extraordinary old man
at present living in Russia, in the vil
lage of Marewka, in the government of
Smolensk, known as "Swet” Sinip. He
was born in May, 1775, and is, therefore
127 years old. He has never been ill,
and is able to walk each Sunday two
versts (p the village church. He also
does work at the schools, knits stock
ings and weaves sandals.
Teeth of all kinds have been wor..
shipped, apd are, iu fact, venerated as
relics in some religious shrines. Bud
dha’s tooth is preserved in an Indian
temple; the Cingalese worship the
tooth of a monkey; while the ele
phant’s and shark’s tooth serve a simi
lar purpose among tne Malabar and
Tonga islanders respectively. The Si
amese were formerly the possessors of
the tooth of a sacred monkey, which
they valued very highly, hut in a war
with the Portuguese tncy lost the holy
grinder and had to pay $3,500,000 to
get it back again. It ts now kept in a
small gold box. Inclosed in six other
boxes in one of the many temples of
the Siamese capital.
The American peanut crop averages
about five million bushels a year, and
twenty-iw r o pounds of the nuts make
a bushel. About $10,000,000 worth of
peanuts are yearly consumed, either
in their natural form or in candy. The
shucks furnish good food for pigs, aud
the peanut viue forms a first-class fod
der for mules. Vast quantities of pea
nuts are shipped each year to Great
Britain and the contineut from both
Africa and Asia, where they are con
verted into "pure Lucca olive oil." A
bushed of peanut shells will afford
about a gallon of oil. and the meal is
used for feeding horses, and is also
baked into a variety of bread which has
a large sale in Germany and France.
Prepared.
“Do you think the world will ever
come to an end?”
“Oh, I suppose so. We will all have
automobiles in & few years"—New
York Sun,
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
' MNot e s ] &
j ~ and Queries.
Can you tell me or put me in the way of
finding out how much a tall chimney mad*
of brick will sway, if it will sway at all?
I do not know how to look for the infor
mation, and I want to be acquainted with
the condition for personal satisfaction.
J. A. S.
Tall chimneys that are small in size
sway in strong winds so much as la be
easily observed and measured; six to
eight Inches from tbe centre Is not un
common with very tall factory chim
neys. Bricks and mortar are elastic.
A friend of mine claims that the wheels
of a railroad car slip sideways only when
rounding a curve. I claim that thev also
have what I shall call, for want of a better
expression, a rotary slip; that on a slow
moving train the outer wheels slip, while
on a faster train the inside wheels slip.
What are the facts in the case?
YOUNG SCIENTIST.
The wheel flanges of railway cars
bear against tbe outer rail when round
ing a curve by their momentum, and
against the inner rail when strongly
pulled by the locomotive. The inner
and outer wheels both slip, the inner
one forward'anil the outer one back
ward. according to tbe conditions of
running on a curve. Tbe centrifugal
force at high speed throws the greater
weight on the outer wheels, when the
inner wheels slip forward.
Will you please explain what is meant
by a post-hypnotic suggestion?
DOUirOSR
When iLSPbject is In a soinnanH'.lis
tlc state of whatever sort, provided it
be different from tbe one of the day be
fore, one may give him a command,
which is to be fill later, at a time
when he Is no longer in the somnambu
listic state but lias returned to his
usual waking state; this is what is
called a post-hypnotic suggestion. It
presents a very curious feature, name
ly, the subject on awaking, has forgot
ten the somnambulistic sleep and all
the commands that were given him.
Nevertheless the suggestion is assur
edly executed, and at tbe given hour,
with all the details indicated in the
somnambulistic state. There are cases
on record in which acts commanded
during the hypnotic sleep were per
formed after the lapse of weeks or
months, and this is so Without the sub
jects being able to account for them,
even when questioned at the moment
they were doing them. ,
Di-1 the telephone exist in ancient times?
LI NOTYPIST.
This is not likely, but it may have ex
isted 275 years ago. Thus, in a work
of Galileo containing the great astron
omer’s and physicist’s lectures on
Ptolemy and Copernicus, which ap
peared first In 1(127, there occurs a pas
sage narrating the inference that the
idea of possibility of communicating
by telephone, nay, a similar invention,
had arisen ns early as that date. The
words which Galileo puts into the
mouth of one of the persons discussing
said systems are as follows: “I remem
ber a man who wanted to sell me the
secret of cjmmtjnicnting at a distance
of two or three miles fry profiting of
the sympathy that exists between two
magnetic rods. Wlierfil told him that
I was ready to buy his 1 secret, hut first
wanted to test it, and that this test
would only require an experiment be
tween our two houses, lie replied that
in such a short distance the action
could he hardly observed. Whereupon
I sent Idm away, saying that X had
neither the time nor the desire to go to
Cairo or Moscow to test Ills invention,
but that I was willing to coimminiate
with him in his own Way if he himself
would undertake the voyage to either
of those two cities.” It is not known
what became of the awn with the in
vention, nor if, perchance, Galileo in
these wot'ds wanted to express his own
physical notions iu a veiled form.
The? Ugly Fotto.
A recent addition to the London Zoo
is the Potto, a curious nocturnal lemur.
This animal, says the Westminster
Gazette, was discovered 200 years ago
by tlie Dutch navigator. Van Bosnian.
All its worthy discoverer had to say
about It was that the Potto "hath
nothing very particular hut its odious
ugliness.” It is a soft, sleepy, large
and round-eyed beast, which lives
among the trees and takes a day to
advance ten steps. Hardly anything is
known about Its ways and habits, and
the specimens that have been from
time to time on view iii the monkey
house at the Zoo have not increased our
knowledge; for, as it passes its days
in slumber and ns the gnrdeus are
closed at night, its methods of enjoy
ing life—if any—are not accessible to
st,Ml - v - . * nAim
Conundrum*.
Why Is a mouse like a haymow? Be
cause the cat’ll oat it.
If you wished to buy a white horse
where would you go for it ? To the
cellar.
Why is the letter It like a squalling
child? Because it makes “ma” road.
What knitting can you do without
needles? Your brows.
What is the best string to lead a lady
with? A string of pearls.
Why . are confect loners so much
sought for? Because they serve kisses.
What tradesmen are always on
stilus? Stonecutters.
If a farmer has fifteen sheep atilt lias
four pens, put an unequal number in
each pen. Five sheep in three pens aud
a big pen all around them—fifteen iu
the fourth pen.—St. Louis Post-Dis
patch.
Queer FUti From China.
Captain Watson, of tlie steamer Dow
dier Castle, just arrived in New York
from tlie China seas, lias presented the
aquarium with several specimens of a
novel fish which abounds in the vice
fields of China. They are long and
slim, with flat spade-sliaped tails, aud
about six inches iu length. Captain
Watson says that when the water
drains off from the rice fields the fisli
are found in great numbers iu the mud
around the roots of tlie rice plants.
Dors Away With Telegraphers.
Anew telegram transmitter in gen
eral appearance resembles a type
writer. and is so constructed that any
one, with a knowledge of telegraphy,
tan send messages with complete ac
curacy and with greater speed than
the most expert operators of the pres
ent system.
Wanted—a Man—who is gentle and ju3t;
A man who is upright and true to his
trust;
Who cares more for honor and love than
for pelf,
And who holds his neighbor as dear as
himself;
Who’s sober and earnest, and merry and
gay.
Who cheerfully shoulders the care of the
day;
Whose principle’s high, whose integrity’s
strong;
Who’d rather do right any time than do
wrong,
Yet who to a sinner shows sorrow and
pity,—•
Do yon think I might find such a man in
the city?
S'-
“UNTO THU L/UT ”
By W. J. R.oe.
~jju' “ hvKi S so many others did, I
, knew “Old Howls” In a
' ZS I casual way, as a note
I AA I broker of the meanest
\ class. He was always un-
I tidy, always in a hurry,
never anything else but thinly clad,
jeven in the depth of winter, and car
jried constantly—with a loud laugh and
forced jollity that had won
jhim his epithet, “Howls”—a haggard,
hunted expression. Jacob Howells’s
reputation, even when I first knew him
on the Street, was quite “off color,”
and the color had worn off more and
imore as years went on.
\ He and I never had any business
transactions for two reasons, both
'valid—l had no spare cash to loan, and
'when I borrowed—'which was seldom—
; 1t was not on collateral of the sort re
quiring tho big “shave,” out of which
kills man and bis kind made their
sparse and precarious profits,
j It was growing dark on a raw day
.last February that, crossing Nassau
,street on my way toward the elevated,
.1 saw Howells in charge of an officer.
Having heard that he had been con
cerned of late in several pieces of
'“sharp practice,” the fact that he was
.now in custody did not seem surpris
ing. I was going by with no more at
tention than may be implied by a brief
[thought of commiseration (“Poor chap,
‘I hope lie’ll get out of the scrape”),
[when I beard him say pleadingly:
“For God’s sake, wait just five min
jutes more.”
\ His tone was so imploring, so pitiful,
mud it seemed so sincere as to some
hope in a little delay, that I overcame
ithe dastardly cowardice of prudence,
[turned right about, and went up to
[him.
! “Is there anything I can dd for you,
iMr. Howells?” I asked, not, I fear, cor
dially, but coldly, my manner instinct
ively modulated as to imply that pre
sumption on his part would scarcely
be tolerated.
“Yes," he answered eagerly, “there
is, if you are willing to take a little
just a little—trouble. As you see, X
hnve got into a little- scrape (he
laughed grimly), and Ij have sent a
hoy for my lawyer. Pnmfraid It’s so
late he’s gone home, wjtw, would you
mind going to my flat (he named the
street and number),, my wife
that I have been called away sudden
ly, but will be back to-morrow—and
(he handed me a fivc-dollar bill) give
her that.”
Of course I agreed to do wliat he
wished, though his flat was far over on
the upper oast side, while my home
was on the west. Howells clutched
my hand hard, ’’Thank you; my God.
but I do thank you,” and we parted.
I turned back, down Wall Street, and
took the east side elevated at Hanover
Square. While I waited for the train
it began to snow, and by the time wo
reached Fourteenth street a heavy
snowstorm had set in. At Fourteenth
street there was a long stop, and at
the end of perhaps fifteen minutes the
guard opened the door. “All out,” he
shouted, “this car goes no further!”
I soon discovered that there was a
fire on the block above. The surface
line was blocked also, so I made my
way across to the Second Avenue line.
There were delays here also, so that
it was quite late before I reached the
street where Howells lived. In the
meantime the storm had gathered
strength; the wind blew fiercely, and
the mingled snow and sleet beat full
into my face as I made my way tow
ard the tall tenement to which I had
been directed. I found the number at
last; one of these immense, semi-gen
teel apartment houses, a horror to look
upon, much more to be all one could
call “home.” Pushing the button of
the very topmost flat, the door opened
Instantly, and, covered with snow, I
toiled up the stairs. On the upper
landing stood a woman, who ex
clninjed before she recognized pie:
“Oh, Jake, dear Jake, I am so re
lieved—”
Suddenly she stopped, seeing a
stranger, and. clasping her hands, her
face, as I could see even in the obscur
ity, turned ghastly white.
"Is this Mrs. Howells?” I asked.
“Yes,” she gasped, evidently over
come with apprehension, “yes; please
tell me, have you word from my hus
band? Has—has—anything hap
pened?”
As quickly as possible I relieved her
anxiety by delivering my message and
the bill. I would have gone then at
ouee; but Mrs. Howells urged me to
come in. “It was so kind of you to
come, and such a dreadful night. Mr.
Howells is not strong. Girls (she con
tinued joyously, your father is all
right; he was obliged to go out of
town.”
Iliad not said this, but let it pass.
The little room was a charming pic
ture of modest refinement and liome
likeness. Two young women, who had
been sitting by a lamp, one engaged in
needlework, tlie oilier, having laid
down a book, rose and greeted me.
Ladies, all of them, that was evident,
as well as was the deep affection—al
most adoration—for the man whom,
till that hour, I had known as one who
could not have been classed as respect
able, much less as a gentleman. It
was now, however, quite apparent—
that desperate gap between the man
of the outside world and of the home,
and the hideous struggle he was en
gaged In with the wolf of poverty aud
to keep the little family together.
The next day Howells came to my
office. He looked even more disrepu
table than ever after a night ia jail,
WANTED,
Wanted —a Woman —no saint, under
stand,
But a womanly woman, who on every
hand
Sheds the lustre of purity, goodness and
grace.
Who carries her loveliness stamped on her
face;
Whose wisdom’s intuitive, insight is deep:
Who makes living sunshine where life’s
shadows creep;
Who’s poised in her little world’s centre,
and who
Is gentle, responsive, and tender and
true;
Whose sweetness and graciousness fit like
a gown,—
Do you think I might find such a one in
the town?
—Metaphysical Magazine.
but his voice trembled as be thanked
me. Then his tone and manner
changed.
“Well,” said he, with a harsh, hol
low laugh, “I got off this time; ’tis-n’t,
the first, and ’twon’t be the last. You
know your Aesop—the pitcher that
goes often to the well is bound to get
broken some day.”
After this I used to do a little more
than nod to Mr. Howells; in fact, sev
eral times I even threw a little busi
ness in his way. Once he came to me
on a matter where I was really of
very considerable assistance. When it
was concluded he asked me to go out
and take lunch with him. “Don’t ob
ject,” he said heartily, “on account of
its coming out of my pocket. It won’t;
the man I’m doing this for puts up,
and this will go in; besides,” he added,
consciously, “I’ll not take you to any
swell place ”
We lunched at ft little place—not
“swell,” but good in its way, and there
he let out much of his heart to me.
It was pitiful to hear him tell of the
miserable shifts and devices by which
he gathered together the few dollars
needful—pitiful to me, knowing what
the man’s home life was.
“Do you think I don't know well
enough what people say of me? Yes,
they call me a blood-sucker, and—no,
don’t shake your head—that's not the
worst; some will tell you I’m an out
and-out scoundrel who ought to be in
State prison. But, Mr. ,” be laid
his liaud impulsively upon my arm,
“I give you my word before my God
that never in my life have I done n
dishonest act. Y’es, I’ve been arrested
—more times than that once you know
of; but it was always as a scapegoat
for some other man's rascality. ‘Hit
him; he’s got on friends!’ that’s the
cry around Wall and Broad streets.
What a dreadful business mine is!
I know it; but I can’t get out of it;
I can’t try some other more decent.
God knows I would if I saw my way,
but I don’t. When a man's past sixty
no one wants him. Besides, I know
this business of shaving third and
fourth class paper clear down to the
ground; I know that and nothing else.
Now/Jliis piece of business; bow much
do yeii suppose I’ll net out of it?”
“Two hundred,” I suggested, know
ing what his commissions ougfit.V}.
have been.
"Divide that /faction. _<sfd How
ells coolly. *' fP'jackal like me
get his full tfmmlssions; Not much;
I’m allowed for expense oar flare, this
lunch and odds and ends; but before I
got the job I had to agree to take an
even ten. Oh! I’m not worrying; it’s
the best day’s work I’ve done in six
months.”
From time to time .during the fdllow
ing summer I saw Howells, always in
haste, always anxious, but liis greeting
was always a genial smile and a
hearty “Good day.” Ho never pre
sumed upon my good offices. It was
late one afternoon the following No
vember that a messenger brought me
a brief note from him. He xvas laid
up, lie wrote, with a bad cold, and
there was a little matter of business
he wanted looked after. The papers
inclosed were all in good shape. It
was after business hours; lmt in his
calling they stay down town late.
I did what be asked willingly, col
lected the amount, and sent it by the
messenger. A week passed, and the
same thing happened again. This time
lie wrote at considerable length. lie
was very ill; too ill to be out such a
harsh day. He had no one he could
trust (the word “trust” underscored).
Would I mind obliging him just once
more? It was a beseeching—almost
cringing—letter. He might have known
me better. I did the erraud, collected
$6, added $lO, and inclosed a. line say
ing that I was glad to he of service,
and that the ten was “at his entire
convenience.” The next clay a postal
came, undated, and the handwriting
tremulous, hardly legible. It said
simply: “O. Iv. Many thanks. You’ll
get it later.”
About a week after that, while I
was sitting at my desk in the office,
the door opened hastily and IJowolls
staggered in. My first thought was
that he had been drinking, for his
manner was wild, his eyes sunken
and bloodshot, and his usual pinched
and haggard expression intensified
tenfold,
“Excuse me for one moment, Mr.
,” he said, panting like a winded
dog, “I’ll get my breath shortly.”
When he had recovered himself he
began at once, talking very fast—there
was a policy on his life, taken out more
than ten years before. Originally for
five thousand, it would now be worth
to his heir s upward of nine thousand.
"The premium is due to-day; tills is
the very last day or the policy will
lapse. Tc mustn’t lapse; that’s the long
aud short of it. M.v family woald get
over nine thousand if I should die to
morrow if that premium is paid. If I
should die to-morrow," he repeated,
choking. “I’ve got fifteen of it. Can’t
you help me out with the balance?
For God’s sake try and help me
out ”
I did not keep him in doubt, but
opened my pocketbook and counted out
the twenty that he said was needed.
Howells eyed the money as a famishqd
man might food. As he clutched the
bills, the man's joy seemed quite un
speakable. He did, however, manage
*o stammer out in the intervals of a fit
of painful coughing what he called his
"deep gratitude.”
"You’ll, get this tack, good friend,”
he said huskily at the door. "Never
fear. If I pull through—all right; if
not—well,” and he laughed hoarsely,'
“all right, any way. The fact Is, I,
slipped out. No one knew I'd left the,
flat—or, for that matter, my bed. The'
doctor said if I came out this raw day,
it would be the last of Jake Howells.'
But if you knew, Mr. , how I've
worked and scrimped and gone with
out to save that policy for Polly and
the girls, you'd say I was right—dead
right. They call me a hoary old repro
bate, but I say that was right—dead
right.” j
About dawn the next morning How
ells died. The grief of the three
women who loved him was agonizing.
If he had been the most respectable
citizen It could hardly have been more
so. In due time the policy was paid.
Mrs. Howells sent for me, and gave
me the thirty dollars.
‘tMr. Howells told me to be sure
and repay you, and to say how very,
very grateful he was,” she said be
tween her sobs. ~ 4 yj
As every man of letters must know,
—and abide by perhaps at his peril
morals to tales are quite out of date.
Inartistic though it be and unwise, yet
the writer feels that he would be false
to a higher duty than that of providing
an “available” manuscript If he left
this brief record without word of com
ment. Morals! Great Heaven! How
certain, how numerous, how eager they
are, justling one another to he told,
to be stamped vividly, effectually upon
the cringing flesh of an age professing
such high ideals in theory, and in prac
tice crucifying them all! What right
had I to gratitude? As much—yes,
just as much as lie to the opportunity
to gain an honest livelihood, unvexed
by the ever-waiting spectre of tempta
tion and of crime. The whole range
and verge and scope of sociology
aye, and of theology, too —are bound
up in The story of the “hoary old
reprobate,” who yet, after all, followed
the Master, and “gave his life for the
sheep.”—New York Times.
A Curious Will.
The curious will case about which
there was much talk in Munich last
week savors more of the good old fairy
tale days of “once upon a time” than
of this modern and undomestic gener
ation. Herr X was an eccentric old
bachelor who lived in a country town
in Bavaria. When he died he left a
will with instructions that It was not
to be opened till five years after his
death.
His nearest relatives—a brother and
sister with a schoolgirl daughter apiece
—waited with impatience till the time
should elapse, for it was known that
the old gentleman had amassed a small
fortune by successful lottery specula
tions. At last the will was opened
and the contents made known to the
expectant families. A certain propor
tion of the money was left to various
charities; the rest was to be divided
equally between the two nieces on
condition that each of the girls become
a maid servant in a respectable Munich
family and remained In service for a
year, at the end of which time the
legacies were to be paid over, provided
the would-be heiresses were able to
produce an excellent character from
joistresses they had served during
of probation.
One of the nieces has made a virtue
of necessity and is serving her kitchen
apprenticeship with a good grace; the
other, unable to support the ignominy
of donning cap and apron, has refused
to fulfill the conditions of the will, and
her father is disputing its validity on
the ground of the old man's insanity.—
London Tatler.
In the Eyes of Their Servant.
A great many people live to please
their servants. They save and pinch
in order that they may spread them
selves before butler, maid and cook.
And, poor fools, they do not perceive
(hat butler, maid and cook thoroughly
understand the situation. But, serious
ly, trained servants are marvelous
critics. There is a family in our
swellest avenue who will admit that
they also are qualified teachers.
Good manners are acquired by chil
dren in imitation of well-bred parents;
they are acquired by scrub adults
through social attrition. Mr. and Mrs.
F., who came hare from the West three
years ago with barrels of mined money, 1
very wisely leaned upon their servants
for that- education in good behavior
or etiquette which had been denied
them in the long period of their pov
erty. The butler ..they engaged was
formerly in the home of an epicure of
great wealth. They paid him S7OOO a!
year and a commission on the menu.
One maid was tempted from a leader
of the Four Hundred, another was im
ported from Paris, where she had at
tended the Countess Q. Fabulous wages
were paid. The footman came from a
fashionable club, receiving three times
his former wag?S. From these people
the Westerners learned "manners.”
And they are to-day better behaved
than many animals in the social men
agerie who were born in the purple.—
New York Press.
Hysteria In Dog.
Nerves are the disease of the present
day among human beings, but t I did
not know till recently that hysteria is
also a malady of dogs. A friend of
mine owned a dog which suddenly one
day was seized with an attack of
nervps. Since then it lias been very
ill, xvanderiug incessantly round and
round the room, refusiug food, but still
recognizing its Qwuer. Another little
dog suffered from hysteria in conse
quence of fright from railway travel
ing and it really seems as thongh civil
ization. in rendering dogs more delicate
and more susceptible, had done them a
distinct physical Injury. London
Graphic.
Their Experience ax Travelers.
There Is no city In the world in
which so large a proportion of the resi
dents have had wide and varied expe
rience in travel and observation as Salt
Lake City. The explanation of this lies
in the fact that a large proportion of
the young men in the Mormon Church
are sent to foreign countries, where,
after learning the language, they preach
as missionaries. These return with cos
mopolitan experiences, a broad outlcok
and greatly augmented knowledge.
Senator Jones Not Native Born.
Senator Jolm P. Jones, of Nevada,
about to close thirty years of service
iu the Vnited States Senate, is one of
five members of the upper house not n
native of this country.