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12 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?”