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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, SEPTEMBER 15, 1882,
@ur §ohuq 'Jjjolks.
“The world, dear ehild, li aa we take It, and
Ufe. be mire, ta what we make it."
HEALTH ALPHABET.
A—a toon m yon are up, abake blanket and abeet;
B-etter be wltbont aboea than alt wltb wet teet;
C—blldren It bealtby, are active, not still:
D—amp beda and damp clotbea, will both make you
111;
E—at alowly, and alwaya chew your food well;
P-reaben tbe air In tbe houae where you dwell;
0— armenta muat never be made too tight;
Il-omea abould be healthy, airy and light;
1- t you wlab to be well, aa you do, I've no doubt,
J—uat open tbe windows before you go out;
K—eep your rooms alwaya tidy and clean;
L—at dual on Ihe furniture never be seen,
31—ucb Illness la caused by tbe want of pure air;
N—ow to open yourwlndows be ever your care;
O—Id rags and old rubbish ahould never be kept;
I»—eople abould aee that tbelr floors are well swept.
Q—ulck movements In children are bealtby and
rlgbt;
B—emember, tbe young cannot thrive without light.
M—ee that the cistern la clean to tbe brim;
T—ake care that your dress is all tidy and trim;
U—ae your nose to find It there be a bad drain,
V—ery sad are the fevers that come from Its train;
W—alkaamucb aa you can wltbout feeling fatigue;
X—erxea could walk full many a league.
Y—our health Is your wealth, which your wisdom
must keep;
X—eal will help a good cause, and tbe good yo'i will
reap.
Tbe Ladles’ Sanitary Association of London, gives
ihe above simple rules for keeping healthy. Follow
them, children, tbey are In a good cause.
A COXJimEK'N FEAT.
The signior was giving a aeries of highly
successful performances in the city of Mo
bile , (where as he tells us in his autobiogra
phy) people came to consult him privately
about love-affairs, matters of business and
future events, thinking that one who could
do such wonders, must be able to un
ravel allthe mysteries of life.
It was a rather primitive, simple-
minded community in those days. In
vain he disclaimed the fortune-telling
powers ascribed to him. It was still be
lieved that he could give the required
information if he would. He was one
day in the hall, preparing for the even
ing’s performance, when an elderly gen
tleman called upon him, uud with pro
found respect asked the honor of taking
him by the hand.
“I saw your doings here last night,”
said the visitor, “and let me tell ye,
’twas the most wonderfullest thing 1
ever did see 1 I never laughed so in ail
my born days 1”
*T am glad you were pleased,” replied
the signor, politely.
“How could you take so many eggs
out of a bug that had just been thraghed
on the stage and trampled on, upset all
my catenations 1 And how could you
know that a stranger in the middle of
the hall had a chicken hid under his
coat? 1 couldn't see a feather of it til
you called him up and pulled the
squawkin' critter out!”
Tbe signor smilingly listened to a
good deal more talk of this sort, until
the speaker came to the object of his visit.
“They do say, signor, that there’s nothing
you don't know, or can't find out if you try.
And I've come to consult you”—the old gen
tleman looked cautiously about the haft and
lowered his voice—“on a question that I’d
willingly give one of my lingers to unpuz-
zle.”
“That’s probably a question I could'ntun-
puzsle if all my lingers depended on it,” re
plied the signor. “I've no such powers, out
side of my own business, as muuy people
suppose.”
“Make this your business, and I'll reward
you well for it,” said the visitor. “My name
is Oatrnan. 1 live on my plantation in sum
mer, and bring my family to town in winter.
We bring only two servants with us; and
they are old family servants, that I can’t
think would steal from us.”
“You have been robbed?” suggested the
signor.
“Mow, how did you ever And that out?”
cried the planter, astonished.
“You just told me,” laughed the signor.
“Hot 11” chuckled the other, with a saga
cious shake of the head. “I bad’nt come to
that part of my story. But 1 see you read
my thoughts before I can out with them. I
have been robbed; in the strangest way!”
As every well-to-do planter 'carried his
watch and dangling fob-chain, and as Mr.
Oatman’s pc Aon showed none, the signor,
who was fond of a joke, could not help an
swering, in fortune-telling fashion:
“Your watch has been taken 1”
“Mow, how could you know that ?” the
simple-minded man exolaimed, in delighted
surprise. “It was the first thing I missed.
Then we made search, and found that my
wife’s diamond ring was gone, and that over
two hundred dollars had been filched from
my till.”
“The thief must be acquainted with the
premises,” suggested tbe signor.
“There you hit itagain 1” said the planter,
with lively satisfaction. “You score one
every time. He must know the premises,
whoever be is; and that’s the strange part of
it. Servants faithful — Good Lord, they
wouldn't know what to do with the money
and things if they had them 1 Only our son
and daughter living with us. A few inti
mate friends come in, that I trust aa far as
I’d trust myself. AW, who could have robbed
us ?”
The worthy Oatrnan aimed this question
point blank at the signor, who answered se
riously that he could not tell.
“You can tell 1 I’m sure you can tell 1”
the planter insisted stoutly. “I haven’t
come here without consulting my family.
My wife and daughter both advised me to
come. Only my son tried to dissuade me.
He said you couldn’t know anything about
such matters, and I would only be making a
bad matter worse. But then, he hasn’t seen
your wonderful performances.”
A quick suspicion shot through the sig
nor’s intuitive mind.
“Your son was right;Ye gave you good
advice. I dare say he was quite anxious
that you should keep away from me?”
“Indeed, he was!” said the planter. “He
was so worked up about it, I had to partly
promise I wouldn’t come, before he would
let me leave the house. He said I’d make a
fool of myself, and I said, ‘Well, well,
George, I won’t!' He thought I meant I
in a friendly tone. “ You haveu’t witnessed
my performances?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” the youth
replied, drily.
“ No, doubt you have been more pleasantly
employed. The city offers a good many at
tractions to a spirited young man ; and I see
by your looks,” the signor added, with a
meaning smile, “that you are not one of
those dullards who go to bed at dusk.”
George smiled in a glassy sort of way, and
seemed trying to bring out some careless re
ply, when his mother remarked, complain-
ingly,—
“ George keeps very late hours this winter.
I’m so sorry 1 for any one can see it isn’t
good for him.”
“He used to make calls with me, even
ings,” said the sister. “But he never does,
now-days. I can’t think what he finds to
amuse hitn so late, every night.”
I can think,” said the signor. “ I know
the city, and I know young men. I’m sorry,
George 1” He lookod the young man keenly
In the eye, as he continued,—
"If you had been in the habit of remaining at
home nights, this theft never would have taken
place l"
By the look, and the words, and still more
by the tone in which the words were spoken,
poor George must have perceived that his
secret was in the signor’s possession. Still
the trustful parents and affectionate sister
remained free from the slightest suspicion of
his guilt.
“I reckon that’s true, signor!” said the
father, “George is known tobeacapital shot,
and no burglars would venture in the house
when he was at home. Do you discover any
thing more?”
“Being a stranger here,” the signor re
8PORT IN INDIA.
wouldn’t consult you. But what I really
meant was”—
“That you wouldn’t make a fool of your
self,” the signor interrupted. “And here
you’re doing it, I’m afraid, after all!’’
“No 1 no !” cried the planter, confidently.
“You just come round to the house with me,
examine the premises, and talk with the
folks, and I’m positive you can guess tbe
riddle, if you haven’t guessed it already.
Ah 1” he laughed gleefully, “I see by your
eye you have guessed it 1”
Indeed, the suspicion which bad entered
the signor's mind had become almost a cer
tainty ; and it was not without hope of be
ing able to solve the mystery to his own sat
isfaction, if not to the planter’s, that he
finally consented to visit the house.
He was Introduced to the planter's wife
and daughter; saw the servants—a simple
old negro and his wife, and was shown the
room from which the valuables had been
purloined.
While he was thus engaged, a fine-looking
young fellow, but with a rather careworn
face for one hardly yet out of his teens, came
and stood in the doorway.
“Ah! Signor, here is my son,” said Mr.
Oatrnan, slightly embarrassed. “You see,
George, I—I—thought best to -you won’t
mind, my boy; for asking him in can’t do
any hurt, if it don’t do any good.”
“All right!” said George carelessly. But
the signor, who exchanged glances with him,
saw that his lip twitched nervously, and that
there was an anxious look in his eye.
“Your father has an extravagant notion
of my poor abilities,” the signor remarked,
plied, “ I can’t make up my mind at once.
If your son should set about it, I’ve no doubt
he could clear up the mystery very quickly;
but I shall have to study over it awhile.”
Declining to say anything more definite,
but promising that the family should hear
from him if he succeeded in finding the lost
treasures, he presently took leave, giving
George a very significant look at parting.
He had not been long at the ball, ponder
ing over the painful problem he had been set
to solve,—haunted by the pale face of the
guilty son,—when the face itself appeared
before him.
“Ah, George!’’ said the signor, kindly; “I
am glad to see you.”
The youth came forward slowly, too much
agitated to speak. Then, apparently touch
ed by the signor’s sympathetic manner, he
broke forth imploringly,—
“For mercy’s sake, sir, don't expose
me I”
“My dear Geo'ge 1” replied the signor,
taking his outstretched hands, “ I shall not
expose you if I can help it. But let’s under
stand each other. Tell me all about it.”
“ You know it all 1” exclaimed the wretch
ed youth, beginning to tremble and sob
violently.
“ I know something. You have fallen in
with bad companions. But how could you—
how could you deceive and wrong your own
parents?”
“ Because I am an idiot! because I am the
most miserable, ungrateful, wicked son that
ever had good parents to wrong!” said Geor
ge, in a convulsion of remorse and despair.
“But I didn't mean to rob them.”
“ I know,” said the signor. “You meant
to return what you took. That’s what every
well-brought-up young man means when he
takes the first step in crimes of this sort.”
“Truly I meant it!” George protested. “I
took the money first, hop ng to win back
with it what I had lost at play. Then when
I lost that, I took the ring. Then, desperate
fool, as I was. I took the watch and pledged
it That led to the discovery. If it hadn't
been for that, all would have been well.”
“How so?” the signor Inquired.
“Last night tbe luck turned,” said George,
“and I won back a good part of what I have
lost; enough to recover the watch and ring
and all the money I took from the till.”
“ Is it possible!” exclaimed the signor as
tonished.
“ I have it all here,” said George, touching
his coat. “ It was in my pocket when you
came to the house; didn't you know it?”
The signor was obliged to confess that he
had not seen so far as that.
“ I was in distress, trying to invent some
way of returning tbe things without being
found out,—trying to keep my father quiet,
—when he brought you in and spoiled all I
Unless,” said George, with looksof entreaty,
—unless you will be merciful and help me!”
“ I will help you on one condition,” said
the signor.
“Name it! I will do anything!" the
youth eagerly promised.
“ I only ask you not to do a certain thing,"
said the signor. “ You know what it is,—
tbe greatest folly and sin a young man can
be guilty of."
“ I know what you mean,” George replied.
“Gambling. I have found out by experience
what misery it leads to. And I had vowed
that if I could only win back enough to
save my honor, I would never-never—
never play again 1 And I never will 1"
“ Then trust me to make everything
right with your father,” said the sig
nor, again clasping the young man’s
hand. “Will you leave all to me?” “I
shall be so glad to, if you will take the
trouble!” said George.
A few minutes later, relieved of his
dreadful burden, with a lighter and
more hopeful heart than he had carried
in his breast for days, he departed, leav
ing the signor to work out the delicate
question in his own way.
That afternoon the signor despatched
a note to Mr. Oatrnan, informing him
that it was quite important he should
be present at the evening's performance.
In due time, accordingly, the planter
appeared with his whole family—wife
and daughter and son,—and took his
place with them at the end of the seat,
only a few steps in front of the per
former.
There was a crowded audience, and
everything went on charmingly. The
egg trick was related by particular re
quest and afforded as much amusement
as ever. The signor allowed himself to
be shot at, and caught the bullet in his
teeth. Ladies saw their handkerchiefs
, cut up and made into an omelette, and
afterwards restored to them neatly ironed
and folded. A pair of doves were found in
a lady’s bonnet, and a rabbit in an old gen
tleman's hat.
So the signor went through with his stock
performances,—all a delighted novelty then
and there, though so familiar to other audi
ences in later times 1 At length he had oc
casion to borrow another hat..
He stepped down to the seat occupied by
the Oatrnan family, who were among his
most interested spectators.
“Perhaps you will lend me yours,” he
remarked, “ if I will promise to be careful
of it.”
The planter handed his large and some
what seedy hat with a broad smile. George
looked on with bright eyes and a throbbing
heart.
The signor stepped back to his table
when, looking into the hat, he gave a start
of surprise, and with a frown of feigned dis-
pleasure turned to address the audience.
“ I have particularly requested,” he said
“ that gentlemen should be careful to empty
their hats before handing them to me. One
hat came into my hands, you noticed, half
full of turnips. And now remark the in
credible carelessness of the owner of this
one I ”
8o saying, he put his hand into the hat
and drew out a gold watch which he held
by the chain.
“ A hat seems a very unsafe place for car-
rylng a watch ; and why couldn’t the gen
tleman have taken the trouble to remove
something so valuable before lending it to
me? But what is here?”