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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1890-9-11, Page 2A. Country Courtship. Driving the cows from the upper Meadow-- i3eauty and Brindle and Bose— Now in the sunlight, now in the shadow, And new in the wiled% caress ; With song as sweet as at inert the starling Is wont to the skies to trill; the farmer's daughter and darling, Comes tripping adown the hill, Purple and black are the braided tresses Her dainty temples that crown; Light is her step on the sward it presses, Ag fall of the thistle down. The squirrels peek from the wayside,hedges, As the maiden moves along, And count it chief of their privileges To list to her joeund song, Bowe where the alders and slender rushee Border the rivulets banks, And the widened sweep of the water gushes Under a bridges broad planks; Whistling a love-song.in broken snatches— His hat pushed back from his brows— Robin, the miller, awaits and watches For the coming of the cows. Up to their knees in the stree,roa, the cattle Oriek deep of its crystal. now; Little they care for the lover's prattle Or the bliss the twain may know; Their heaving sides with their draughts dis- tended, They enter the path again, And crop the grasses, with heads low bonded, On either side of the lane. The shadows deepen; the dew is sprinkling With diamonds alt the meads; And faint and tar, in the distance tinkling, The sound of the bells recedes. Still on the bridge where the water glistens, As the moonlight on it falls, The miller talks, and the maiden listens, But the cows are in their stalls, —W. D. Reify in Ladies' Home Journal ADOPTED BY THE DEAN which would Vlin her lips; she let him told her in his Orme* While her tears rained down silently.. Coreelia left them together, and after it few minutes Eepeeanoe was better able to feel the full comfort of Gasperd's presence, and yet to both of them there was something inexpressibly sad about his return; the meeting which they had so often talked over, and had planned so joy- fully, was befitted different to their laments, tions. It was not till Noel's baby vele° was upraised that Eeperanoe dried her team and Gaspard's sorrowful face brightened. "Your little boy I " he exclaimed, "I have not seen bine." Then as Noel crawled toward them, with slow but resolute baby efforts, "Why he is a regular De Mabillon, eyes and all." " Yes," said Esperance, lifting him up to greet his uncle, "I think he will be like our father." Just at that moment she was celled away to Cilande's room, and Gaspard was left alone with Noel, who did not quite know what to make of this new arrival; It- WAS beginning to twist the corners of Ii a baby month oni measly, when the loor L p ned and Dean Collinson entered. tie had greatly dreaded meeting Gas. paid, bat when he saw his grave, sorrowful tette, Isis courage suddenly revived—the sorrow seemed to unite them. "I am heartily glad you have come, Gaspard," he said, holding out his hand. Gaspard made his grave and formal greeting; he could not bring himself to speak very warmly. The old man was for & moment repulsed, but he had grown strangely humble, and he said noth. beg, only a grieved look passed over his face. Then at once Gaspard's better self returned, he spoke courteously and grate- fully. " I have a great deal to thank you for," he said; it was very considerate of you to send for me, and, the journey*" He was interrupted. Noel, unaccustomed to his voice, was beginning to kick with all his might, and to hold out his arms to the dean. "Ah 1 you do not know your uncle, mon enfant," said Gaspard. The dean received this new charge rather apprehensively. It was many years since he had held a baby, and Noel was at the most springy and troublesome age of eleven months. He was pleased, however, at being looked upon as a friend, and allowed the tiny fingers to play with his long white beard. It was a pretty picture, the hoary -headed old man, and the bright. eyed baby. Gaspard looked and wondered. What would his mother's feelings have been could she have foresee that her grandchild would have been so caressed by her brother? The dean, looking, saw the expression of his face and guessed his thoughts. " You think it strange, Gaspard, that I should love Esperance's child, but this boy has been mare of a comfort to me than I can tell you; I hope I may be spared to be of some use to him. You have probably been told the reason of my dislike to your father. He crossed my plans, he was poor, he was a foreigner, he unknowingly thwarted my schemes for self -advancement. I see it plainly enough now, though at the time I should have said otherwise, but I was blinded and self -deoived. You are a young man—you can hardly realize what a terrible thing it is to look beak on years of self -love and. self-indulgence, to see all the harm you have done, to thing of the good left undone. Yet I don't think you are unmeroif al—you have been through too much trouble to be harsh in your judgments; and I ask you now net to judge bat to forgive me—to for. give the injustice and hardness I showed to your father and mother, and the cold uncharitableness I showed to you." The Dolor glowed in Gaspard's cheeks, his eyes shone with a bright light, and his face expressed at ones surprise, admiration and relief. For a moment there was silence, then he spoke warmly. "In the name of my father and mother, I do forgive you, uncle. A.s for my own pardon, I do not feel that I have a right to use such a term to one so much my senior. You disliked me—I was aware of it, and returned the dislike ; necessarily there was coldness between us. I have to thank you now for first breaking the ice." The dean held out his hand, and Gaspard grasped it in silence, while Noel kicked and crowed lustily, evidently finding the family reconciliation very amusing. After this Dean Collinson seemed really happier; though of course the long, wear. ing anxiety about Claude still weighed heavily on his spirits. The short December days passed quickly by. The long nights succeeded each other one by one in needless monotony, and still Claude lingered on almost miraculously; the long unconsciousness still remained unbroken. The lest evening of the year came—a still, cold, frosty night. Esperanoe found it hard then not to fear, almost impossible not to glance on tremblingly at the future. She listened to the cathedral bells as they rang out clearly in the frosty air, and tried to take courage, but never before had it seemed so hard to trust patiently. She had little sleep that night—at last, when her restlessness grew unbearable, she rose and dressed herself, and went to her husband's room, where Gaspard bad been keeping watch to relieve the sick -nurse. He gave her his New Year's greeting sadly. What a ,Tour de l' an was this! She bent down to kiss her husband a unconscious brow, then turned away to the window to hide her tears. The nighnlamp burned low; she drew up the blind softly and looked out. Many times before she had seen the dawn, but never had it looked so beautiful to her as now. Over the hard, frozen earth there rose the soft, gray, pearly hue of morning; far off in the city she could see the faint yellow gleam of the street lamps, while above in brightest contrast, in the midst of the beautiful grayish -green haze, hung the morning star, large and radiant, almost dazzling in its brilliancy. Gaepard's voice suddenly repelled her. " (Merle, come here " She hastened to the bedside. The heavy breathing had grown more quiet, the arms were moved slightly, the °pride quivered. Gaspard went to summon the nurse from the adjoining room ; Esperance waited, scarcely able to breathe for the terrible suspense. Was this a change for life or death One minute more and the long, long welling was over 1 Clande's blue eyes —quiet, unchanged, recognizing, looked into hots I Ho smiled, and his long settled lips uttered one faint word—" Esperance I " The look, the mettle the one word were all she could have—but she was contented. She let Gaspard lead her from the room at once, and in a few mire:nos he had taken the news to the deanery, and had brought Cornelia back to Esperance. The recon- ciliation with the dean had long been affected'but even bed he not asked so humbly for pardon, Gaspard must have forgiven him all when he saw the intensity of his thankfulness at Clatidehr restoration. 'Rome Mrs. Mortlake gave a sincere expres- sion Of 'joy, and Dean Collinson Wee go much agitated that it seemed &Shirai it he would be stiffidiently recovered in time for the morning berme. He went, however, and endured the long New Yede's full service was completed, then he hurried off at once to the hotel. No one was tet the ettingwootn. He welled anxiously for Some minutes ; last Cornelia stole quietly down the passage with reesennIng lam Cleutte ? " linked the dean—he could handle, weak for emett'en- " lie to going on well—the doctors are quite satisfied—only he must be kept per - featly quiet." Then as the dean turned away the continued with a "Bat we have another Now Year's gift, father, to be thankful for " The dean turned around half apprelsen. Bible, What I they never tow me--." " All has gone well," said Cornelia, in a calm, glad voice—" Esperance has a little daughter!" That dee. the dean exercised his prereart- tive, and altered the anthem chosen *to the opening chorus from the " Hymn of Praise." Some people declared that it was an uneuitable anthem for the New -Year, but they knew very little about it. Dean Col- lineon's head was bowed throughout; people wondered that he did not etand up, or show in some wet/ that he shared the spirit of the words, "All things with life and breath, praise ye the Lord." But perhaps there had never before been in the cathedral praise more true, and humble, and heart- felt, than that which rose from the hoary. headed dean, who shaded his eyes with his hand lest any one should see the tears of thankfulness which he could not check. limit which could be allowed, for Mr. Henderson and Frances were to be married the fellow* week, and Esperance had Set her heart on their presence. "I feel that my tweet belongs to you already," she said one day to Frei:mom who Was driving her over to Worthington Hell in her little pony -carriage, "When she is older you will have to Attach her all that you taught her mother. I think Maggie is it very girl; we shall all envy her when she has you to herself in the country." Dear little Maggie," fond Franose, thoughtfully, if I thought I should be het 58 W100 with her as Madame Lemeroier has been I should be happy," "I hesetd from madame only last week," said Esperanoe. She wrote so happily; her passage is taken, and she goes to Aus- tralia to join monsieur next month." "Yes, she has promised to stay with Maggie till we come home," said, Frances. "We mean to dispense with a regular wedding tour, and to have a few quiet weeks in Cornwall instead; then in the sum- mer Norman says we must all meet down in Wales. Maggie and Kathie will to enjoy being together, and I think you and Claude and the babies ought to come too, it will not feel at all right if you are not there, and Claude will want a change of air by that time." "It would be very delightful," said Esperance; "but that is looking far ahead." They reached the hall as she spoke, and Mr. Henderson, who was staying there, came down the steps to greet them. "You remember Mrs. Maguey, Norman,', said Frances, "we have already been dis- cussing our next meeting in Wales." Mr. Henderson shook hands with her warmly. He had not seen her since her wedding -day, but in spite of all she had been through she had not been ranch altered; it Was the same gravely sweet face, only there seemed greater depth in the eyes, and a more patient firmness about the mobile lips. Frances had much to talk of, and there was a sort of sadness about the visit, because it was probably the last which Esperance would be able to make before the bustle and confusion of the wedding week began. But Lady Worth- ington reminded them cheefully that Devonshire was one of the loveliest of counties, and prophesied that before long Claude would have commissions in the neighborhood of Frances' new home. George and Bertha were expected on the following day— the Thursday in Holy Week. Every one a little dreaded their arrival; even Cornelia, though thankful that her father had sent the invitation, half shrunk from seeing her sister. All passed off, however, better than she had feared. The real joy of having Bertha once more at home overcame the painful- ness of the first meeting, and though they were quiet and subdued, they were none the lees glad and thankful to be all to- gether once more. George could not help letting Esperanoe know how he appreciated her thought. fulness. "From the first time I saw you years ago in Paris, I knew that you were blessed with that rarest gift of tad, Mrs. Maguey, but I did not imagine how much I should, be indebted to you in future years. Your visit to -day has thawed us all.' " Claude's visit you mean," said Emer- anoe, smiling. "It is the first time he has been here since the accident, and the dean wants to show him all the alterations and improvements." I hear the dean is not going to have his observatory rebuilt—is that true ?" "He says he shall not at present," re- plied Esperance, "but he has engaged a first-rate lecturer to give a course of lessons on astronomy in Rilohester ; and I believe if the people take up the subject at all warmly, he will build another observatory, which may be used by the public." "I must say he looks all the better for being without his hobby. I suppose he gets out-of-doors more, instead of being shut up all day studying and spending half the night in star -gazing." Esperance glanced across at the dean, and smiled. He certainly did look much happier and much less infirm than in former times, but she did not think the change was altogether owing to the loss o the telescope. Easter -day was cold and unseasonable in spite of its being in the middle of Apri there was snow on the ground, and the cold east wind blew gustily round the walls of the cathedral, whistling through the louver -boards in the, towers, and vainly seeking for an entrance at the closed doors and windows. But the hurricane without only made the calm within seem more restful, and the fitful gleams of sunshine streaming through the etainedglass windows oast a fleeting radiance on the group gathered round the massive old font. Lady Worthington, standing rather in the background, could watch the faces of those around; Claude, with the gravely wistful expression which his face often bore, stood doge to the font, his color rather high, his short, newly -grown hair fairer and more boyish -looking than ever. Esperance was close beside him, looking serene and happy, and with a beautiful light ine her soft, brown eyes ; while be- hind them stood Marie, in her fresh white cap, and little Noel with his bright eyes full of grave wonder. On the opposite side stood Frances and Mr. Henderson, Mme. Lemeroier, using her handkerchief freely —Gaspard, with an unusually softened expression on his dark, handsome face, and Cornelia, holding the baby carefully and rather anxiously, with a womanly tender. ness and love which she would once have scorned. But, perhaps, in all the little group there was no face which arrested Lady Worthington's attention with such real pleasure as the dean's. This Easter -day was indeed one of re- joicing to him. It was with mingled humility and joy that he received his sister's little grandchild in his arms, and bestowed on her the name which meant so much to him—" Amy Esperance." The short service over, the little group dispersed quickly, Mrs. Mortlake lingering to help old Mee. Passmore into the carriage, and to hear her comments. " most beautiful baby the finest I have seen for a long time—and so healthy, too " "Yes," eitid Mrs. Mortlake, "a nlea plump little thing, but warmly pretty. Just compare her with Bella at that age 1 Bella really was a lovely baby I" Mrs. Passmore did not stay to dispute the point, and Das. Mortlake was recalled to the present by finding that Belle was playing at snowballs with Maggie Hender- son and the little Worthingtons, to the great detriment of her Sunday clothes. There was to be no christening dinette, for Claude was still too much or an invalid to boar any more fatigue that day; it was noteindeed, till the evening that he was enough rested to care even for conversa- tion, but when Esperanto had brought hies his tea he revived. "It ilea not been too much for you 2" she ulna, a Mile anxiously. e Not the least. wouldn't have missed it for anything," he replied, with sufficient energy to reassure hoe. " It was worth a little exertion it only for the &Mum of !teeing the dean's face," CHAPTER XXXVII. Claude's recovery was slow, but there were no relapses; he had now nothing bat weakness to struggle against, and day by day he made real and perceptible progress. It was not for several weeks, however, that they ventured to let Esperance come into his room; they dreaded the excitement for both alike, and Eaperatme was obliged to content herself with her little blue-eyed baby, while Claude was able to grumble to his heart's content to Germard—the only person allowed to come into his room except the sick nurse. He was the vary MU to be with an invalid—quiet and ready, synmathetio and yet firm, and Claude found some comfort in his strong resemblance to Esperance. Every time the doctor came he was besieged by impatient questions—How was his wife, and when might he see her? Esperance's recovery had been very slow and protracted, and the meeting was post- poned day after day till Claude's patience was fairly exhausted. One morning he worked himself up into such an exoitement, in trying to prove how much bette- it would be for both of them to see each other, that the doctor began to waver. Esperance had had a bad night, however, and was really not equal to any exertion. Mr. Maclaren would not suggest it to her, but he asked if she would spare the baby. Claude was still talking fiercely to Gas- pard of the folly and uselessness of sash precautions, when his door was opened and the doctor looked in ones more. "Mrs. Ildagnay sends you a small deputy," he said with a smile, then stand- ing back he made way for the monthly nurse, who walked in with an important air, and placed a small, closely wrapped bundle on Cleude's arm. The baby was asleep; he unfolded the shawls, and looked long and earnestly at the little face. It was doubtless much like other baby faces, but to his eyes a likeness was to be traced in every feature. The little, pointed dimpled chin, the small month, the well -formed nose, at present almost out of proportion to the rest of the face, the soft, dark, clear skin, and a most unusual quantity of curly, dark, brown hair, very noticeable in such a young baby, all served to make his little girl very comforting" deputy." " She will be very like like Esperance," he said, glancing up, and Gaspard fancied there were tears in his eyes, but he hastily stooped down again and kissed the little unconscious forehead gratefully, almost reverently. "1 believe Esperance has been comfort- ing herself with the small woman's likeness to you," said Gaspard with a laugh. "Time will show which is right, but her eyes are certainly yours." It was two ort twee days after this that Esperance was allowed to make her first visit to the sick roost. Gemara brought her to the door, just witnessing the dawning joy of each face, the glow of color which rose to Esperance's cheeks, and the bright, eager welcome from Claude; then he left them to their happiness, and went to see Dean Collinson. One of the dean's many schemes was to induce Mr. Seymour to part with Gaspard. He could not endure the thought of his return to Ceylon, and he had written some time before to urge the coffee -planter to transfer him to the house of business in London. Mr. Seymour was fond of Gaspard and of course grum- bled at the proposal, but it happened that at time the change was really feasible. Mr. Seymour's younger brother had just died; Gaspard was fully competent to take his place, and although owing to his want of capital, he could not at present be received as a .peirtner, yet the coffee -planter hinted that in time this diffoulty might be surmounted. The salary was a good one, and the dean suggested the change hope- fully. Garmard did not take long to make up his mind. English frogs and vapors with Esperanos, and the perfect climate of Diokoya without her, was to him a choice which required no weighing; the decision to stay in England was at once made, and Esperance's delight warmed the dean's heart. It was while she was talking to him on this subject one afternoon in March thee she resolved to speak to binx of what lied long been on her mind. "You aro doing so much to make me happy, uncle," elle said with a momentary hesitation, "it seems almost wrong to ask you to do something else, and yet there is one thing which I very =nob want." " My dear " exolaimed the dean, "let mo hear it at once; if it is anything I can do I shall be delighted." " I am not sure whether it is," gold Esperance, musingly, " but I hope it is. I want Bertha to come to Rilcheeter, uncle, I want George and Berths to be at baby's christening." The dean paced up and down the room three or four times in silence ; then he stopped, and taking Esperance's band in his, he Old, gently. e Yee, my dear, you are right—what am I, indeed, that I should refuse forgiveness to any 1 I will write to Bertha myself. When your little girl to be christened 2 " "We thought we should like Easter -day, if it Will be convenient, uncle. Mr. Pleclaren thinks that Claude may go then." And is the name decided upon 2 " "Claude nye one name must be Emer- minim but we have not chosen the other." Then with a sadden thought she continued, " there any name you would like, mole " There was a strange huskiness in the dean's Voice as he replied, Yee, Esper- awe ; if you and Claude approve, there is one mune I eluttild very much like—your mother's estne—Amy." Premiere Neville, Cornelia aria Gaspard Were to be the god -parents. The christen- ing had been deferred till Easter on " Was it 100i bright and glad 1" 'said Eaperanoe, smiling. " And he held the baby so nicely, could not help Oh:thine as he rend her name, how my mother's belief had really oeMe true, and all was being made right at last, I wonder if in Paradise they are allowed to watch the working together of things down here— whether !she and papa could see how the poverty and the suffering and the long waiting were all leading up to the reunion which they had so longed for 7" Claude did not speak for a minute or two, but twisted his betrothal ring around, and mused on the motto. 4' You naughty child," he said, playfully, Yet With a vibration in his voice, 'wee how loose this thing has grown I" And with that he pressed the little thin hand to his lips, and Esperance smiled— her eyes full of happy tears. THE END. sermon A ROBY OP TWO 001INTEL1213 For a few minutes after his departure Esperance allowed herself to give way to her overwhelming grief, then controlling herself once more, she paced slowly up and down the room, despairingly, but with the enforced quiet of a strong restraint. She paused for a minute at the window, but the November sunshine was streaming fell into the room and she could not look out, her weary sight was dazzled by the bright. nese ; as she lowered her eyes, however, they rested for an instant on her betrothal ring. The sunlight was illumining the raised letters She read them over and over again,at first dreamily, but afterward with a suden glad realization—" Esperes toujours." She twisted the ring slowly from side to side, letting the light play. brilliantly on each letter. What memories those words brought to her 1 She let her thoughts travel slowly back. Could she disobey his last charde to her? Could she shrink from trembling from what must be best? For a few minutes she knelt in silence and when she rose the despair and anguish had died out of her face—it was tear -stained, but quiet and serene. Before long she went down to the sitting - room, where she found her uncle and Cornelia. The dean was standing with his elbow on the mantle -piece; he looked up as she entered, than hastily concealed his face. Cornelis made room for her by the fire, and for a few minutes no one broke the silence. She knew that they waited for her to begin, and with an effort she turned to her uncle. "Did Mr. Moore tell you anything, nude ? " The dean looked up, and she was touched by the sight of his silent grief. "You saw him yourself, my dear, did you not ? " "Yes," said Esperance; "and he told me the truth." "Be fears the worst, my poor child*" but here the dean's voice suddenly failed him. He turned away, and burying his tam in his hands, sobbed unrestrainedly. Cornelia, afraid that this would agitate Esperance, entreated him to control him. self, but the disappointment of this last hope seemed to have crushed him, and he only moaned out sed words of self.eoous- ation, and vain regrets, repeating again that despairing sentence, "The worst—he fears the worst 1" Esperance stood for a moment apart, as if gathering her strength ; then she bent down gently and put her arm round the dean's neck, and laid her soft cheek against his wrinkled one. "It will be God's best for all of us," she whispered. The dean could not but be comforted by her words ; he pressed her hand in silence. Fust then there was a quick knock at the door. Cornelis opened it and received a telegram for her father. With trembling fingers the dean tore open the envelope and read the brief lines. It was from Mr. Seymour. Gaspard had already started, and in accordance with the dean's wish would come by the overland route; they might expect him the last week in Nov- ember. They told Eaperanoe quietly, and her thankful happiness gladdened the dean's heart. It seemed a ray of comfort in that dark day of disappointment; yet none of them dared to look forward to the end of those three weeks. Day after day the dean's voice, husky and trembling, asked the prayers of the congregation in the cathedral for Claude Maenay ; day after day Esperance watched and ° waited beside her husband'e sick -bed —watched with an intensity of hope, waited trustfully for that which should be sent. Cornelia tried not to be anxious about her, but she longed unspeakably for Gas. readier arrival, kno wing that his presence would be a greater comfort and help to Esperanoe than anything else. It was a with feeling of unspeakable relief that she re- ceived a telegram which he sent From London. She herself went to the RH. cheater station to meet him, longing for hie arrival and yet dreading it, and as she paced up and down the platform, waiting for the train, recalling sadly her first intro- dttotion to her cousin years ago at the great London terminus. He was not so greatly changed as she had expected. It was the same slight, trim figure, the game rather grave face, (near brown eyes, and drooping mustache, only that the healthy, bronzed complexion made him much younger and handsonser than when she had last seen him, She held out her hand, welcoming him with the answer to the question which she knew Was on his lipr3. "Claude is still living, still anconscions." " And Esperance? " " well es we can expect. She thought it better not to come to meet you ; she is bearing up wonderfraly." Gaspard asked anxiously f or details of Clatitte's accident and illness, for the tele- gram had beet neeetwarily brief, and bed only furnished him with the leading facts atid urgent need of his presence. Ho listened sadly to CorneliMe account, she manta not conceal from him the bopeleaS. nese of the case. Very eedly he walked up the steps at the entrance of the hotel, Cerieelia led the way te the sitting -room. end he followed dowel the long, dark emerider. At the sound of their footstepe, however, a, (loot at the end of the paseage Wele quickly opened, the light etreamed down the paesetge, and looking Op he saw Vopotatace in the dooewety. " Ch I h cried, " Chtelleta ' was the wad psalm:61y. It seal twelve e'elock before the 01611dels Mount, hut that was the utmost It ALoOlioratien. In the volume prepared by UM Hellman - nem containing marmite from the dorm- menendreports presented t theeOiiEcontmyaeoiouoitheuexibitot and printed by the Canadian Seeretary of State, there is a chapter upon the meting Of preventing WOrkinglIaell from indulging to excess in the use of intoxicating liquor* The several kinds of brandies are described in order, showing the increasing noeuourt- newt, brandy made from wine having the , least toxic property and brand,' Wide from, potatoes the greatest. An extract is quoted. from Zsehokk, the Austrianeoonoreies,who says: All the lam arepowerless to ex- tirpate an evil which has taken root in the lives of the people; it is with the people themselves that the moral reform must be.. , gin, and no Government is strong enough to do Then the report coatintiett: , "The law on drunkenness, as we have shown in ourtreport, produces no salutary effect ; it does not prevent the habitual drinker from relapsing; besides, it only punishes him who is evidently drunk; it does not reach the drinker who every dew absorbs a certain quantity of alcohol with- out getting intoxicated, though he is the most alcoholieed. To remedy this evil, we gmreuastteartoegaurle.ate the bar -rooms with the "Unfortunately no law has been pulsed in that sense; on the contrary, we have given to the retailer every twenty to sell. his products. The number of drinking plains is unlimited, no superintendence IS exercised as to the quality of liquors sold, and the hours of sale are no longer, we might tatty, regulated; the rum -seller is tree to do Its he pleases. "As has been well said by Mr. A. Lau- rent, the tavern makes the drinker, more so than the drinker makes the tavern and, when we reflect that in most of the large cities, bar -rooms are attended, by won4efe who give themselves to the first comer, Vet come to the conclusion that besides the poisoning we have just pointed out, there is moreover a serious cause of demoraliza- tion and a new attack on public health; this terrible evil must be cured without delay. It is only by regulating this un- wholesome traffic that the drinker wilt be stayed in his downward course." Then follow quotations from a lecture by Dr. R. Dubois who says: "It has been proved that alcoholism ruled especially where wine was unknown; remove the tam on wine, you destroy at one blow edultera- time ; limit exportation if necessary, and plant the vine everywhere; give good wine cheap, and less brandy will be drunk; for that purpose, reduce the middlemen, and favor co-operative supply societies. "Seize, confiscate everywhere the badly rectified alcohols; forbid the adulteration of wine; exact a heavy license from liquor sellers, and restrict their number, as also the hours of sale, and give free scope to the sale of good fermented liquors which are less hurtful; encourage the use of non- alcoholic drinks; reward those who know how to spread the use thereof; remove the tax from tea, coffee, sugar; post up tables showing the relative toxic power of spiritu- ous liquors; multiply cautions; drive away from the country the old offenders who form 60 to 80 per cent, of the incurable and dangerous drunkards. Teach hygiene in schools, inculcate in youth the horror of drunkenness. " Ills in large centres that alcoholisnx causes the greatest ravages; apply your- selves to correct the inconveniences of the crowding of individuals; give plenty of air, " Poverty, grief, fatigue bring forth linnet) water and light. suppress those abominable taxes on food, by which the more months a workman has to feed, the more taxes he has to pay; diminish the hours of labor, increase the wages of the worker; he will thus be abla- te secure a comfortable home, far prefer- able to the tavern ; induce him to econom- ize; the worker who begins to save is no far from renouncing false enjoyments; give to the girls a practical education, so that later on they make good wives- As in America, create temperance societies, and for that purpose ask the women to ead the movement, for they suffer most from the after -blow of alcoholism, without experienoinatsany of its false enjoyments. Do not confine yourselves to physical hygiene, preach also moral hygiene; seek and teach the grand natural laws • mike them respected, by showing the numberless miseries resulting from their inobserv- ance ; for that purpose, multiply pabfie lectures, open libraries and work -rooms, well lighted, well heated in winter, and not kept closed precisely at the time when the workman could come. " As a foil to ennui and idleness, favor theatres, concerts and assemblies where drinking is not allowed; by exciting the thirst of intelligence, you will eatisly that of the body." The Societe de la VieilleMlontagne di. misses every workmen found intoxicated in a workshop, and forbids the ask, of spirituous liquors in houses belonging tee- the society and rented to its workmen. Among its reoomendations are these : "Dwellings. The first and perhaps the best means to keep the workman from the - tavern is to give bins pleasant home. The working man who owns the home be Hoeg in, and tends his own garden, or even the workingman who can rent a clean and neat - dwelling seldom becomes an habitue of the, tavern and a victim to alcohol. And moreover, that man heti the luck to marry a good house -wife, we tinny safely leave him alone. A dirty tenement, ill-dreseetitt children, a slovenly wife are the great aux- iliaries of drunkenness. It is for that rea- son that the Vieille -Montagne, finding that the true place of the woman is not in the workshop, but at home, does not encourage the labor in factories of girls and women. They forbid it in the interior of their mines, even in the localities where the law allows it, and they only permit it where health and morality are safe. " Amusements. But it does not suffice to lodge the workingmen; we must also think, of giving them recreations which may occupy their leisure hoursin an honest and healthy way. For that purpose the Vieille - Montagne hag created and patronized in al their establishment eoceeties of amusement, orpheons, harmonies, bands, target shoot- ing, etc." A. Few Table "Don'ts." Don't smack your lips. Don't take large mouthfuls. Don't blow your food in order to cool it. Don't use your knife instead of your fork. Don't find fault and pick about your food. Don't talk with your mouth filled with food. Don't soil the table cloth with bones, parings, etc,. Don't commence eating as soon as you are Fleeted. Don't laugh loudly or talk boisterously at the table. Don't retail all the slandera you can think ot at the table. Don't take bones up in your fingers to eat the meat from them. Don't call attention to any little mistake which may have °courted. Don't make yourself and your own affairs the chief topic of conversation. Don't take another mouthful while any of the previous one remains in the mouth. Don't reach across the table for any- thing; but wait until it is passed to you, or ask for it. Don't put your elbows on the table, nor lounge about; if not able to eit erect ask to be excused. 'Don't frown or look moss at the table; it hurts your own digestion, as well as that of those eating with yeti. Don't pick your teeth, unless something has become wedged between them; then put up. your napkin to your month while extracting it.—Good Housekeeping. The Cruel Wire. "I consider the barbed wire fence the most barbarous invention ever given to the world," remarked a horse owner on the mountain the other day to a Truss man. These words were used as the speaker was applying a lotion to an ugly gash on the shoulder of a thoroughbred colt that had run against one of these terrible fences. The owner of the colt is Mr. John Clark, proprietor of the Mountain View Hotel. Others beside Mr. Clark have had similar experiences lately. Mr. Mar- shall, of Giant ord, not long since had a valuable horse fatally injured by running against the cruel wires, and several head of cattle have been killed. The hide in- spector says that the barbed wire has caused the quality of hider, to change con- siderably. Almost every other hide and skin brought in to market have to be marked No. 2 in consequence of outs re- ceived while the animal is yet alive. Talk about cruelty to animals, but Mr. Black, or Mr. Brown, or somebody should make a dead stand against barbed wire fencing. 1 Eye Witnesses. Stage Manager (to the "Fall of Babylon' corps de ballet) --Really, ladies, you must do this part differently, as I told you. You do not attain the proper effect at all the way you go through with it. Leader of ballet—We do, too, sir; we do it just right 1 " What l You mean to set up your judg- ment against mine? How do you know you do it right ?" "Because most of us were in Babylon when it fell." Spectator Soporifice. Puck: Editor's wife—Shall I read you to sleep to -night, dear? Editor—Yes, if you please. My editor- ials in yesterday's papers are just suited to the purpose. E. W.—Which will you have, " Disaster and Disgrace," or "By Fire and Sword"? Ed.—The very titles make me drowsy; but the one beginning with "The Culmina- tion of National Calamity Has Arrived" is the best. (Snores peacefully at the end of the third paragraph.) His Day of Rest. Attorney—How is it possible for yon to fix in your mind so dearly that it was on a Sunday that these things happened? Witness—Because I was full on that day. Attorney—Is it not possible that you were intoxicated some other day ? Witness—No, sir. I have no time on the other days. Sunday is the orily day I have to rest. Nature's Freaks. Fangle—What a greet thing is nature 1 I have just read of a man whose hair turned from a jet black to a snow white within a year. Dangle—That's nothing. I have known a man's head to turn bald within six months after marriage. No Place to Find the News. Tangle—What's the news, Bronson Bronson—I don't know. Tangle—Don't know I Why, you've been reading a newspaper all morning! Bronson—Then, how in the world do you expect me to know the news? Unconquerable. Wielsars—They tell me, Professor, that you have mastered all the modern tongues. Professor Polyglot—All but two—my wife' and her mother's. ' Repartee. " Is it a crime lobe a woman ?" cried the ortitoregs. " No ; ooly a miss demeanor." Queen Victoria contemplates publishing a volume of the Prime Consort's °erre- impedance, consisting of letters written by him to the late Emperor William (then Prince Regent of Prussia) and to the Duke of elaxe.Coburg-Gotha. The Prince Con- sort wrote so confidently to these two personages that his letters would require considerable revision, as his strieturee upon publics men were Often very severe. Young Adam rorepaugh will spend next year fitting up a now Vorepaugh show which will rival the femme exhibition of his late father. He will take the road with the new show in 1892. Lydia Welchta 4 -year-old aim at ten, Delaware, is a musical prodigy. She oan sing and play any tune that oho bean. Her father is leader of the Methodist Church °holt, A Great Game. "It is queer in baseball. When it man is released he is no longer leased." "And when he re-signs he withdraws his resignation." " By George It's a wonderful game.' Social Pastele. " don't enjoy dancing," said Bliss rassiee. " shOuld think you would—the way you dance," put in Mise Ingenue, daftly. cothdn't swim. Bystander (to man juet fallen into the water)—ay, what are you fishing for? Drowning man—For succor The State and local treastiriefi Of Ohio receive 62,452,500 this year from the saloon keepers of that State It is cabled from London that the histerioel Drtiry Lane Theatre is to be pulled down at the expiration of the lease ill 1894.