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The Exeter Advocate, 1890-7-31, Page 2A Gem of Xpltalphy. The following lime are ooeied nerbathn tfteraton from te stoue in a oeraetery near Boekhorn, ip Eent county t alylevire so aear, be of good cheer 'Wu Wm meet you there, your children dear Tri a few more years, if the Lord do please, Your woeldly goar you leftyou dean Linde email years with hopes alai Mare - Without your tore whialt sadly vexed the little dears. Your voiee so clear, your mare ean't or 'd'our ft3a-t1iery tribe tlae smith, my dear Tao lowiughane, 1ikeWilE10 the swine Wbs lauabs in time will miss you Bair t,boy should lose their anothers dear. Wbeeler tie my dear has not been here SO Jerry's clear for thie new year. A loving mother who lies here As ever left her children dear Ileavens rest bee soul where'er She is the wish of those left here. Et "Wheeler" is a cattle beyer awl butehee vein -mown iu the western counties, and"Jerry" was an ox that was fattening hi the stall at the time death robbed the farm of its mistress:I ADOPTED BY THE DEAN A TALE OP TWO COUNTRIES. No, ; the sooner the house ie empty the better," said Cornelie, thinking only of Eeperance's quiet, and George hurried away, inwardly blessing his little Frenoh cousin for her opportune illness. The Lowdells, too, were packing with all possible speed, for their mother had con. siderately proposed to go that evening. "Not the leaet because I am nervous about the girle, you know, bat we shall only be in the way,' she exclaimed to Cornelia, prov- ing her kindness still further by staying in Eeperanoe's room till the nurse arrived. So the deanery was speedily emptied, and the next day found only the dean and Clornelta left behind, to hear with dismay that they had all been drinking water from a poisoned well, and that Esperanoe's illness was fully accounted for. She had for long been very much oat of health, owing to the privations and shook of the siege, arid had naturally been the first Cereelia had never dreamed of acting as si es -nurse before, and felt hopelessly at a lose when the trained nurse went to take her eta, and she was called to take her turn with the patient. Luifaily, at first, Eseere,nce was fairly quiet, but later on Coto :Ha was frightened out of her wits by her wild ravings, and the strange language seemea to make it all the more terrible. Tho a hours revealed to her more of Esper- anoe's life and character than she had ever ketone. before, and her father's name was so cuetinually on her lips, that Cornelia was more end morerebuked for having ever 'watered to call Frenoh love shallow and fleeting. The all-important twenty-first day was one of disappointment and double anxiety, for there was no shade of improve - meet, and the fever ran frightfully high. The doctor took Cornelia aside after his second -dein " 11 Mademoiselle de Mabillon has any near relations they should come at once,' he staid, gravely. " She has none in England," said Cor. nelie, thinking with a shudder what poor Gasp trd would Bay when he heard. "She is really in suoh danger, then 2 " •• The most imminent danger," replied the etootor, accustomed to regard Cornelia as a al tad, matter-of-faot lady, able to stand any thing. "In fact, Miss Collinson, I fear it 14 ely duty to tell you that I think it a gree ,mestion if she pulls through the next tvet n t ;oft= hours." Uareelia turned ashy pale, and the doteor a little surprieed, hastened to add, " Tie ess we find there is more fever to- nigto , it is just poseible then that she may get through." Ji the evening, the dean came to the door, es usual, to make inquiries, and the doctor brought him into the room, having prepered, him for the worst. He was quite overtome, and the mere eight of Esperanoe was e, shook to him, as she lay pillowed high, her forehead bandaged, her brown eyes wild and glittering, her face drawn with pain, and crimson with the flush of fever. Soo was moaning Gaspard's name piteously enough, and the dean felt a keen pang of remorse as he remembered how gladly he had seen the last of his nephew a few weeks ago ; he almost wished him back again now. Scarcely knowing what he did, he bent down, and took Esperance's thin, burning hande in his. She had not noticed his entrance'but this made her look np suddenly ; a glad smile passed over her troubled face, and hdf raising herself with the strength of delirium, she cried, " Papa papa 1 have you come ? " then, falling back again, said, much more quietly. "1 am so tired! Won't you carry me? She dosed her eyes, and they all watched in breathless suspense, till at length a look of entire peace stole over her features, and her quiet, regular breathing showed that ehe had fallen into a natural eleep. For two hours the dean etood in this novel position, personating M. de Mabillon, and patiently holding the hands of his old enemy's child. He was growing undoubt. edly fond of Esperanoe and, moreover, he felt something of the sense of responsibility witieh had been oppressing Cornelianand had a great terror of her death, feeling sure that it would burden him with that sense of guiltineen which had haunted him when hie sister died. He wished he had not overheard that ory for Gaspard, it rang in his care tormentingly, and though he reminded himself that the Ceylon appoint. merit was a very good one, he could not but remember that if he had chosen he might easily have found a sitintion for Gaspard in England. In the sick -room matters went on very hopefully. Esperance took some nourish- ment, and then fell again into a long, dreamiest: sleep, and am the morning the dootor was so well satisfied with her improvement, that Cornelia began to take heart again. She slept at intervals through the day, and. did not take much notice, but on the following day she was much more herself. In the afternoon, when the nurse was lying down, Cornelia was startled by a eudden question in Esperance's weak voice, the English words coming with a sort of hesitation: "Gaspard does not know that I am ill, does he 7 " Cornelia, crossed the room to the bedeide. "lo, dear; but not yotx are better I will write." Perhems I shall be well enough soon to put ih a letter. What day is it? "It ie Setarday, the 13th of July. We will write by the next roan, on Friday." Espertince was too weak to talk any more, She lay mewing Over Cornelnes words, greatly surprieed to fine how long ehe had been 111. nt she had still many days of pain and weeknese to look ferward to, for although he Was out of denger her rem/eery Watil very sloes and wearisome. She was as' helpless as a baby, and though good and patient, she could net evithetand the sane° of itching loneliness that Weighed upon her spirits, Dvery one was kind to her, but she longed unopealsably for Gas. pad, and day atter day elm lay carving groleilv, wiping away her tears and trying bo smile when any one spoke to her, brit fr tOo Weak to be able to 0Ontro1 herself. She saw a good deal of Coruelia, for the nurse always went to lie down in the after. noon alter her night's watebing, but unluokily eine was rather in awe of her, and Cornelia herself, thoueh extrenaely anxious to be hied, had not the quiole observation and ready test whi011 are needed. in eiok nursing. Her diffidence, too, wee a great hinderance, for she never ventgred to do anything for Esperence without an anxious questioning. " Would you fancy this " on " Shall r give you that? till the pear child was se worried that ehe would negative everything rather than be troubled with the decision. Her native politeness, however, stood her in good stead, and Cornelia never found this out, bat was outs/ touohed by her gratitude, and as the weeks passed by she grew more and more fond of her, One afternoon early in Augnet, Esper- anoe was sitting alone in her bedroom weerily watching the tops ot the trees as they waved gently in the eammer wind, end wondering where Gaspard wan and what he was doing, while the tears coursed silently down her cheeks. Just as she was feeling t. iuomentary relief at the last stroke of the r., as, a knock (came at her door, and to her ..at surprise the e- rvant announced " Lady Worthington." Esperance felt a thrill of joy as she looked up, and saw Lady Werthington's eympethetio, un- ohemged face, and heard again her low, ooroforting voice. "My poor child 1 why, how pens and thin yon are 1 but they tell me you are bettor," " Yes, I feel better, thank you," said Eeperance, wearily. " But convalescence is always dull work," said Lady 'Worthington. "1 met Cornelia just now, and she gave me leave to come and see yon; she tells me you have had a long illness," "Yes, it has eeemed long," sighed Esper- ance. "You see, I can't do anything even now, and it is hard to sit and think all day, and then—I do eo want Gaspard." "This great fly is worrying you, my dear, I shall put an end to hie noise," and kind-hearted Lady Worthington rose with alacrity to flick the poor insect mercilessly with her handkerchief, till it fell out of the window stunned. After that she felt a little better, and came again to Esperanoe's side, determined to make the most of her present opportunity. A bright idea had struck her—the deanery was forlorn and uncomfortable, but what if she could get Espere,nce away from the deanery? She revolved various plans in her mind, while fondling the little invalid in silence. At last she made up her mind, and began by a judicious course of questioning. " Ought yon not to have a change of air, dear? Has Cornelis, said anything to you about going away " " No ; and I hope we shall not go," said Esperanoe. "We should only go to Scar- borough, Where Mrs. Mortlake and Belle, are staying, and I would much rather be alone with Cornelia." "Dat I think you should have a change, you want a great deal of setting up yet. I wonder whether you would like to come and pay a visit to Frances, she is down an Wales with the childrem Sir Henry and I only left them on Saturdey, and they are to stay for another month." Esperanca started forward, a glow of color rising in her pale cheeke, "01', Lady Worthington, do you really mean it? How good—how kind you are 1" "You would like it then? " "Marc than anything in the world! It seems too good, too wonderful 1 only I have been so cross and fretful, that I really don't deserve it." "Poor child, that is not your fault, I am sure, you will soon get better when yoo are away, there is nothing like Welsh air to my mind, and Llanfairfeohan, the little village where Sir Henry has taken a house, is a charming place, with sea and mountains too. Franoes will be so delighted to have you." They were still taking over this plan, when Cornelia came back from the service. " I wonder whether you will spare us your invalid for a little while," said Lady Worthington, when she had joined them. " I have been asking Esperance whether she will stay with us in Wales for a month." Cornelia felt a sudden pang, Was she to lose this child whom she bsd watched over so anxiously ? she felt as if she were being robbed; then looking up she saw the glow of animation on Eeperanceni face, and felt sadly that the Worthingtons had been kind to her in the days of her own coldness, e,nd that naturally they were more loved. With an effort she spoke cheerfully. " I think it would be very good for her indeed, if you are sure it is quite convenient to you, Lady Worthington." " Perfectly, there is a room doing noth- ing, and Frances will be so glad of a com- panion. Sir Henry and I are going to Switzerland, but she is not strong enough really to enjoy traveling, and prefers stay- ing in Wales. I wonder whether Dar:entice would be well enough to travel down on the 81h; I could take her myself then." Esperanoe declared she was well enough to go that very minute, though an hour before she had not felt equal to walking across the room ; bnt the prospect of change seemed to put new life into her, and Cornelia was en pleased to see her better, that she was glad the invitatien had been given, and promised to talk matters over with the doctor the next day, and to let Lady Worthington know. CHAPTER XXVI. The doctor highly approved of the pro. potted change, and as the re wereonly & few days far preparation, Cornelia's hands were full. The 8th of August was as fine as could be wished, and toward the middle of the day Lady Worthington and Esperanto) started on their journey. Poor Cornelia felt very sad when the actual porting ceime, though Esperanoe's good-bye was as warm and affectionate as possible. She threw her arms around her cousin's neck, " Dear Cornelia, you have been so kind to me, and I have been snob a trouble, perhaps when I come back yon will let me wait upon you." "You must get quite strong again, dear," said Cornelia, quietly returning her embrace. "And be sure to let me know bow you are after the joutney." Wben they arrived, Harry and Fred were waiting on the platform, looking cool and countrified in their brown holland suite. ," Aunt Fanny ht waiting in the pony, carriage, manama," they both oried in a breath. "We will bring all year things from here." "Very well," amid Lady Worthington, who we fond of making even ten-year old boys nisetul. "Harry, you bring then cushions and bags, and Fred, gee that a black trunk and ray small box are sent round at 000e in the cort--now,Esperanoe, we will come," and putting a siipporting arm retina her little charge, Oho led her through the station to the pony.carriage, where rrences was waiting, looking fairer and prettier than ever, in her light summer dreee. Illaperanee receivied a homelike greeting in Prench, and wad made comfortable in the carriage, while Lady Worthington talked to Prances. tin the Monday afternoon &prance wee quite Weli enough to enjoy a drive, and Prances took her in ihe ponyouttriage aleng the shore; elm visa enchanted with the Sea, and was very desiroup to go on it attonce, "1 am not sure what your 'looter would soy to thot," soid Frances. " But in a weeh or two you will be stronger, and then vlt rilkingdwe w hiry.ii All row to that little ielond, of which I cannot say the name," said Ever, anoe, eagerly. I like it so much, it looks BO lonely, just broken off, as it were, from Angleaea. It will be delightful to be really on the sea. I shall know what the voyage to Ceylon will feel like—it will be good practice." Frances smile. " I was thinking about your letter—shall we call at the pi:snot:nee and see if it has come 2 " " Oh 1 if we might 1" and Esperance breathed more CitliOtly as FrantieB turned the ponies' head, and drove up the village street. She tried hard to believe that ehe did not expect anything, and waited, trembling with ezoitement, till Frances appeared at the door of the posnoftioe with a reasuring tan% and—yes, it really was — a letter in her hand. " It has the Rilohester post -mark," she said, and Esperanoe let fall the reins, hunched at it, and alpaca tore the envelope to pieces in leer hurry to open it. Within there was indeed the precious incloeure, a thin, blue envelope, directed in Gaspard's flourishy, oopper•plate welting. Frances drove home quickly, and than in the quiet of her own room Esperance opened her letter. It was delightfully long and closely written, each day so fully described that she seemed to be living through everything with him, and her happiness was all the greater because she had not expected such details, for Gaspard's letters from London had been neoeesarily poor in this respect, and had generally been written in a strain of forced merriment in order to veil from her his sufferings. But this WaB a really journal -like description, written with delightful ease, while little collogaied eapressions here and there brought the tears to Esperanoe's eyes. " Ah, Esper- anoe if you could have eeen this," or " when you come, oherie, you will enjoy that." She lived with him throughout the voyage, learned to know the laconic) captain, and the graphically described passengers, entered into the landing at Colombo with ite bustle and confusion and heat, laughed over Mr. Seymour's jokes, and the accounts of the shopping and bargenning in the town, then traveled with him to Diokoya, and saw his fature home in Mr. Seymour's bungalow, tried to underetand the size of the estate given to her in an almost fabu- lous number of equare kilometres, and sympathized with teaspard's difficulty in learning Tamil. And it, when at last it was ended, she came back to the present with something of a ehook, and was obliged to have a good cry, yet Frances understood all perfectly, and instead of adopting Cor- nelia's plan of pointing out the extreme ingratitude and foolishness of such behavior, petted and oareessed her till her smiles returned, and she w&s eager to read some extracts from the letter to any one who could appreciate its delights. Whether the pleasure of receiving her first letter from Ceylon had anything to do with her recovery, it would be hard to say; but certainly from that day Esperanoe took a fresh start, not only in bodily strength, but in spirits. CHAPTER XXVII. "Aunt Fanny, we really must take you to Aber," said Harry, very beseechingly, one morning toward the end of August. " Yee, anntie, we were there yesterday after the rain, and the water fall he >et splendid. Can t we go to -day altogether ?" Frances looked across the table at the invalid, and being reassured by her looks, thought that it might, perhaps, be managed. They started early in the afternoon, a very merry party, Frances driving, Esper- ance and Kathie squeezed in beside her, and the boys in the back seat. The day was most glorious, and the richly wooded glen looked so beautiful that Frances was obliged to drive slowly in order to give her full sympathy to the eager entreaties to look at some especially lovely view, either of the sea or the river, or the mountains. Leaving the carriage at the rest -house, they walked slowly on toward the falls, and whether it was due • to the beauty and novelty of the way, or to the fresh mountain sir, Esperanoe wag not at all over tired, when at last they roadbed the end of the glen, e.nd sat down on the great, gray bovslders at the foot of the waterfall. She gazed in wonder at the down -rushing torrent, as it came foaming over the brown rooks, here, white as snow, there, separating itself into little silvery streamlets, but alt mingling in the pool below, and hurrying away down the rooky bed of the river. Frances was amused and charmed by her native expressions of rapture and amaze- ment, and watched with pleasure the healthful glow of color in her cheeks, and the happy brightnees of her eyes. She looked delightfully at her ease, leaning back among the rocks, in her shady straw hat and bine cambric polonaiee, and Frances was just wondering what constituted that happy French faculty of perfect enjoy- ment, and contrasting it with the heavy, bored looks of a party of tourists who were finding fault with everything, when a sudden ory and splash made her look round in terror to see if the children were all safe. To her relief they were all three in sight, scrambling about the rooks on the other side of the river, but Esperancebad quitted her easy pbeture, and was bending over the bowlders down to the water, and just as Frances hurried to the spot, she had helped to drag up a terrified little girl of above seven years old, who had alipped into the river. There, do not cry, you are quite safe," mid Esperanoe, panting a little with her exertions. Bat before Frances could speak, a little, dark, middle-aged lady bustled up, her round, brown eyes all anxiety. "Marguerite, ma acre I what is it then? Ciel 1 you have really been in the water 1 sh 1 what a pity, with .your new boote, too. And this lady has kindly helped you? I hope Marguerite has thanked yon, made- necusselle 2 ' Esperence was on her feet now; her color cisme and went, and waited impatiently till the little lady had finished epeaking, then bending forward elle said in & half-ohoked Voice, " Madenne 1 Madame Lemeroier 1 do yoneeot know rne " Mme. Lemercier looked, threw up her little hands, and then, with many exoleima- tions, embraced Aspens:toe with fervor, quite regardlese of the tourist eyes around'. "Mon enfant ! Espersnce 1—ah 1 but this is a happineas. We meet in a strange land, my child! ah 1 who would hove thought it ?" "Dear Madame! how long it- Seeing eine° we parted 1 how moth heal happened " Then turning to Frances, "1 motet intro- duce you to Madame Lemereiert a very deer friend of outs, Who took care of me in the siege. Paha Neville knows you well by name, madame, 1 have told her how good you were to me then." "h 1 rzon enfant,. We each consoled the other. But let no ea down and talk. I forgot you, though, ma pauvre Marguerite, pardon me; era you very wet, my child ?" "Not Very," eitid the Me girl, blue/Avg; "my etooking will dry in the eau. See, here comes papa." A pleaeantdooking men, of three•and- thirty, came striding over the rooks toward thera as abe spoke. "Ho 1 Mies Maggie, eo you hove been in the river, I bear, frightening the Mabee, eh 2 Tilheitdo you say madame ? should she not get her thinge.dried ?" I tear Blie will en•cold herself," said madanee, anxiously. • Perhaps, monsieur, we had better return at once." Maggie interrupted, however. ",But, papa, roadatne has met a friend. The yeung lady who helped me out of the water knew madame at Patin" "Ab, indeed " and the gentleman took off his hat to Esperanoe, while inateeme gravely introduced " Moneieur Henderson and Mademoiselle de Mabillon." "1 hardly hnow how to thank yon enough for belping my little girl," he said, pleasantly. "L hope madame will instil iato Maggie some of tbe ready adroitness of your nation. But as to these wet clothes," he continued, turning to Madame Lerner- oier. "Suppose I take 'Maggie to the inn, aud let her dry them by the fire; we shall be back in an hour, and you will like to have some talk with Mademoiselle de Mabillon." "Monsieur is too good, but it will prevent you from searching for the ferns. Let me take Marguerite beck 2 " No, no; I will find ferns on the way back," said Mr. Henderson, good naturealy. "We will be back in an hour. Come, Maggie." "A geod gentleman, a kind gentleman," said Mme, Lemeroier, relapsing into French, as she waved her loot farewell to Maggie and her father. 'She is my little pupil, Marguerite, you know, and a very amiable little girl. But me chere, come, tell me all that has happened to yon—you are thin, my poor child, thinner than in the siege •, that is very wrong; and yon are altered, ah! very mush altered; and there is more of the angel in your face; it is no more a naughty little piece of human- ity ; you must have euffered, my peer little one. But I fear you grew too good, and then you will die ; keep a little naughti- ness, ma chere, do not become like a saint." "Do not fear that, madaree ; I assure you there is too little danger. I have had an illness • that is why I am thin." " An illnese 2 Ah 1 I was stare you would staffer from the effects of that [siege, it was rigorone, too trying for one so young. myeelt have never felt so well since that time of starvation. But tell me of Gee, pard, mon enfant." "He is in Ceylon, on a coffee planta. tion," send Eeperance, and she told Mme. Lernercier all the details of Gaspard's letter. Madame noticed that there were tears in her eyes. " ma chere, we women have our part in the hardness of life; it is not easy to be left behind," she said, gently- laying her hand on Esperanee's. "But we must have courage, my child, and it is easier for us, for we know they are strong, whereas they know we are weak and unprotected. You heard of course of monsieur's arrest 2 " " Yes, dear madame; Gaspard told me. But do let me hear what happened to you after we left." "Ah, clink 1 what a history it is 1 a thousand times did I thank Heaven that you were spared the horrors of that sec- ond siege, I knew not what to think; I scarcely saw Viotor—he was always engaged either with his writing or—or with more direct means in the furtherance of his cause. At first he was certain of emcees, and I could bear the tumults and the horrore better, because I hoped that in the end his party would be viotorous, and that we should have peace and a better constitution. What oan a woman know of the rights and wrongs of such questions? I trusted ray husband. But then came the farms repulse. Victor was in despair. I entreated him to fly, to hide himself; but no, he was always brave; he refused to do so; he said to me, Antoinette, the people I have incited and led on can not fly; I must stay with them.' So he stayed, my brave husband, he stayed and was ar- rested." (To be Continued) The Open Patrol Waggon. The New York Tribune, describing an arrest in that city says " The children, to whom an arrest is great fan, gather around the policeman and his prisoner, and maroh along to the police station, a shout- ing, yelling rabble, almost rivalling Babel, so great is the confusion of tongues. Some- times, if the prisoner happens to be drunk, he or she has a voice in the proceedings, and axle makes it worse than ever. When the polies station is reached, the vanguard of the escort falls behind the policeman and follows him to the very doors. Then the children quiet down somewhat and endeavor to see what becomes of the prisoner. In doing this every point giving O view into the building is occupied, and the children mane their necks trying to see what is going on inside." This description would do very well for an arreet in Toronto. The patrol waggon is in many reepeots an improvement npon the plan of dragging a prieoner along the streets by the arms or legs. Bat so long as it is an open patrol waggon it does not diminish the interest of the spectacle. And the spectacle is bad, not only for the parties more immediately concerned but for the ohildren who look on. It helps to familiarize them with mime and to present crime in an aspect whioh to thoughtless people may seem enterteining. The open patrol waggon is a nuisance all round, and it must go.—Toronto Globe. 'What They may Learn. A deputation representing the Toronto City Council will soon arrive in this corm. try to pick up information regarding street railways, Toronto having deoided to modernize its system. When the members thereof reach Chicago they will probably learn from Baron Yorke's- how to kill con - &baton in tannels, how not to give trans. fere, how to pack one hundred persons on one oar, how to obtain valuable franchisee for a mere song, how to block elevated road projects by tipping aldermen and several other things which our great street railway magnate is popularly supposed to know.— Chicago Canadian.American, Arl Italian Tragedian. The Italian tragedian, Giovanti Emanuel, is creating a furor among the Neapolitan theatre -goers. In spite of the summer heat the Florentine threatre is orowdea out, and a few nights ago when " Hamlet " was performed, Emandel achieved a grand success. He was called befere the curtain three times after the platform scene, four time after the eoliloguy "*0 be, or met to be," four times after tl3e death of Polonius, and cheered to the echo after the cemetery act, The performance was net ended till 1,30 a. ram— London Daily gews. Free Sampson, of Ann Arbor, Mich., has a bobtailed cat whir% has inilioted her lack of tail on a litter of offspring. The !sonny hi et a toes to explein the freak, and the kittena me* i ceaseless tele of Woe. It hi funny what a difference it makes whether a bowie hits a obtain in his leg or hit blood, A KISSING MANI'. How a Long Island Oongregation Was Scandalized, ACV. DB. pEgittoiK A WITNESS. Woe to those who meet in a place of worehip and give way to worldly deedel Woe onto those colored brethren and sistere who look too much into eaoh other'e eyes during service! Woe! Woe 1 The New Afriottn Methodist Epiecopal Church of Northport, L.I., was to begin its soul -saving career last Sunday amid ell the surroundings of religions fervor which only Long Island colored society can give to an (tension of the kind. The oburch to be organized, and dark.skinned belles and beaux trona Kings, Queens and Suffolk assembled in garments that rivalled a Shelter Wand sunset in its moat glorious ascendancy. There had been meetings of the elect all day. Rev. Dr. Derrick, wbo was one of the Itepublioan Presidential electors of het earimaign, was there and spelled his benign smile and told hie Btories with his usual contagious chuckle. All seemed to promise that the new church would be the key- stone of Long Island African Methodiem. But, oh, and alas for hope and radiant promise. There was in that throng Miss Graham, whose mulatto beauty came all the way from Smithtown, and there was, too, Mrs Mary illaghar, pretty as a dusky She. They both had sung, and tlaeir voices had inspired love. Mr. Perry Smith was there. Every member of Afriae.n society in Suffolk kuows Perry 1 And so wee Mu. Mary Smith and—alas the mother-in-law, Mts. Mary Townsend. Religion was becoming very lively in the assembly. The anxious seat was rapidly filling up and the influence of the time was strong neon the congregation. The spirit of sisterly and brotherly lova was present. Perry knew it was there, for the sheep's eyes which he and Miss Graham had been exchanging had become so large that he suddenly disooverea the necessity of de. positing his contributions manually. He started from hie seat. The congregation watched 1 Here was a convert 1 But nol Horror 1 He had advanced upon Miss Graham like a swarthy Captain Lovelace and, gracious! he threw his arms about her neck and kissed her—kissed her right upon her f all red lips 1 Bat law 1 he didn't stop at that, for he said, and all the churoh heard him: "Lord brass you, ma sister 1 How 1 does love yer 1 Ries agin 1" "Perry," ehe murmured, " I loves yer like I wuz all a-chicken.ftesh " Alack, the course of true love always did run turbid at its flood 1 Mrs. Smith Mrs. Perry Smith arose, and so did Mrs. Mother- iralaw Townsend, and with a whoop of three hundred buzzards they fastened upon his earls. But encouragement was needed to the injured females, and so Mies May- hew, who because she is as beautiful as the sunlit meadows is called " Boxy," hit Mr. Smith twice upon the nose and set the crimson fountains aflow. The congregation of the New African Methodist Episcopal Church then took a hand and the brethren and sisters, forget• ful even that Presidential Elector Derrick was there, joined in and indulged their evil passions by matinees& other names which are not in the Brooklyn direotory and making maps of the Congo Basin upon each other's faces. But the dignity of Dr. Derrick could not tolerate this Zulnistio head dance. Some say he did it by praying, some that he pl&ded, others that he did it all with the back of a wooden bench, but, however it was, the thunder storm of rage was swept away and Mr. Perry Smith and Rosy Mayhew were arrested. Deacon Samuel Balton, tho northeast pillar of the New African Methodist Church, appeared as complainant against courtly Perry and beautiful Roxy. He told jastioe Strawson that" dey bad been sorappin' like de debbil hissed, and for the honorh and de glory of religion dey should be pat in the lockup." But misery strikes the silver chord of sympathy in every breast, and Perry paid e10 and Rosy $5, and they were free. Miss Grahem thinks that Perry was too bold.— New York Herald. A Great Waste or Energy. Mr. Rilla Kietridge, of this , city, the champion microscopic postal-oard writer of the world, has just finished writing Preen dent Elarrieon's last , message, containing 10,000 words, on a 'postalmard, being aboat twenty days doing the work. In writing he uses ' nothing but a pair of common speotadee. It would seem almost incred- ible that anything .dorte with a common pen could be deciphered after being crowded into each a smalrepace, but with the aid of a microscope every letter and word stands out in bold relief and is very dietinot. The lasn1,000 words of the message were written on it space of one.fourth of an inch in depth to three inches in length, or six lines to one.sixteenth of an inch. Mr. Kittridge, who is nearly 79 years old, showed the writer the Lord's Prayer, distinctly to be seen, written eight times on the size of a silver 5-oent piece. He also hae.the same written on the dm of a three -sixteenth. inch circle, being equal to more than 35,000 words to a posted-I:Ind.—Augusta (Me.) Journal. A Cure for Asthma. Mr. Hamilton Fraser, proprietor of the Summit House, at tlae head of Lake Joseph, Muskoka, is a humanitarian. He believes in doing all the good he can for suffering humanity. The other day while conversing with a number of his guests he said: "1 do wish that all the world knew the owe for spasmodic asthma that I know." Being asked for it Mr. Fraser said : "Three ounces of ealtpetre and three ounces of the best block pepper. A number of stripe of brown paper, that manufactured wholly from rags preferred. Make et solution of the saltpetre and pepper, soak the paper therein and then let it dry. Plane the petient in a close room and burn the papenallowing the fumes to be inhaled. It is a certain and permanent oare." Mr. Cox, the owner of the large hotel at Port Sandfleld told the writer that it had cured him of the asthma, after he had been a Sufferer for yeare. A. Beth. Adjustment. Dootor--Yonr eervices are required at Mr, l'oorman's late residence. He died this morning. Undertaker—How natioh did he leave? "Not over $1,000." "What will your bill be 2" "About $400." "Wall, I'll bury him for the red." The men employed in the British eyndi, oate breweries of Indianapolie were form- erly allowed eagle fifty estate of beer a day free. They hove been out down to a daily allowance of five glasses each, and they threaten to strike. Traveller (in Boston)—I want to take the next train to Albany. Tioket Agent—Sorry, sirbut we can't spare Ow TEA TA33Lall OOSSIP Now the teacher, the preaoher, Meet every made creature, The doctor, ale lawyer, the dude :tad the flirt The butcher, the baker, ate eandlestiok maker, Aro each ot them wearing the neglige shirt. But laundrymen bate it tied Eadly beratn it, For naught else their Wetness so vitally hurts. They'd nieale Booms of denote On starched cuffs and collars If 'Worn% for those terrible neglige WAS. —Keep milk itt glass jars. —The floating population is now pretty largely at the eeaside. —Next winter's gloves will be loaded down with embroidery. —The " oream of the soda counters is a, preparation of oondeneecl —The poor vainly ask for it, while the rioh are indifferent to it—Trast. —A man can etudy both sides of a ques- tion without sitting on the fent:en-Denver Road. —Doctor—What kind of exercise do you take? Bookkeeper—I run up several col. amus it day. —" A man cannot afford to make a fool of himself." But consider how recklees of expenee, some people are. —Touriet—Do we atop here long enough for luncheon? Brakeman—We do, urdesa you insist on eating a whole tee:L4wn:4e. —Boy (to his friend who has fallen down hole)—i say, Tommy, if you shouldn't ever dame out of there alive °en I have your bull pup 2" —A Cincinnati girl has been taken to a Pasteur institute tor treatMetit because she bit at a man who tiled to kiwi her. Too bed. Why didn't she ends him with a hair pin Dr A OAIVT-C,ET-AWAY, Out of the dust and grime, Far from the city streets, Where the 'skeeter's song Bounds all night And when daylight comes repeats! Where pies are leather backed, Where the milk is thin and pale? No 1 the town for mo—not the wild countree— rd soouer go to jail. —" I am going to the ehors, yes," Miss Angeline, " and I am not going hus- band bunting; but if any nice young man le out wife hunting I ehall be easily found," —Advertising neede to be done penis- tently. What would be thought of the farmer who simply put his grain in the groand and did nothiug further 2—Geo. P. Rowell & Co. —Rescuer (To drowning woman)—Now, madam, don't struggle and we're safe • the lake is as clear as a mirror, ad Drowning vvoman—Oh, let me ;melt in it I think my back hair is coming down.— Puck. A EitIallEli IDYL. Picnic morning. Pienlo evening. Bright and bit; What it plight Golden sum,hine, Bained from 10 Balmy air. O'clock till night. What a pleasure Flossy garments. Thus to go Once so nice, Where the woodland Filled with mud Breezes blow. And beggars' lice. Happy hours, Dinner ruined, Free from care, Pies and cakes Joy and beauty Food for ants Everywhere. And garter snakes. Through the leafy Full of doleful, Woods well stray, Dank dismay, Gracious, gladsome Dirty, drizzly Picnic day. Picnic day. —Mrs. Gazzam—All through his works Shakspeare shows his antipathy to dogs. Gazzam— Yes, I remember be advised throwing physic to them. —" Good gracious, Fritz, where hove you been 2" " I fell into the canal, papa." 1 " And with your new trousers on 1" "No. ' I had jaat time to take them off before r fell in." —Lady of the house (to her servant)— You tell me that you are going to quit my service, and you know that I have done almost all your work? Servant—Yeo; but you don't do it to suit me 1—Judy. —Solicitude for the Living. Family doctor— I should no longer conceal the truth from you, eir. You have only a few days to live. Mr. Levelhetid (weakly)— Then, doctor, I wish you would buy me a ticket to Europe and have me placed on board a steamer. "But yon could not live to reach Europe." "1 do not wieb toe I want to be buried at sea, so that my family will be saved the minaret: expense of a funeral, and have something left to: live on."—New York Weekly. DM -LOW SONO. Hush, my baby, hush I and sleep, Mother's eyes will safe watch keep; Mother's love, the minutes through, Shall be bending over you. Hush, my baby sweet, and rest, Cuadled in your wbite, wee nest. Sleep, my baby, have no fear, Never harm shall harm you, dear Never touch or breath so small, Gn your little face' shall fall— Unless baby, angels kiss you, Biases soft as drops of dew, By -low, baby, by -low, dear; Shut your blue eyes, shining clea,r,. Shut them tight; we'll rock-s,bye Into sleep -land, you and I. Bush, you birdies, stop and rest, While any birdie's in her nest. long iListory and Pilystery of the Comb. It would be curious to know what mystia meaning our forefathers attached to the simple act of combing the hair. We learn. from old church history that the hair of the priest or bishop was combed severd times during services by one of the inferior clergy. The comb is mentioned as one of the essentials for nee during a high mass when sting by a bishop; mass combs of precious metals are reckoned among the, r costly possessions of most European oethe- drals. Besides those made of gold and silver, the poorer churches have them of ivory, while in some the more 00ralmOrl kinds are used. Among those specially known to history are those of St. Noet, St. Dun- stan and Mahn:bias. That belonging to Ste Thomas, the martyr of Canterbury, is still kept in the Church of St. Sepulcher, Thet- ford; that of St. Cuthbert, "the woman hater," at Durham Cathedral. From sundry references in old legends to the use of the comb in divinations, and from ite appearance in combination with pagan emblems on rudely sonlpturea stones in various parts of Scotland, it seems probable that thia wae one of the objects of pagers veneration which early Christian teachers deemed prudent to adopt, investing it with some new significance.—St. Louis Republic. Crafty. " Are these shoes your best quality 2" "We have only one qualityernadamed' 11 Then why the difference isa ptioe ? friend of mine paid 56 yesterday, and those are onty $4." " We sell by quantity, madame." Quick sale. Excusable krofanity. Menaging Editor --William, go into Met next room and see who is swearing. Study language menet be used in this office. William—Please, sir, it's Mr. Jones. Hs filled his fonntain pen with nimalage by mistake, sir. George Hugo, grandson of Vioter Huge% was recently bonkoed ont of $32,000, that beide of the tranottotion -being a played.out stone quarry.