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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.