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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1891-1-15, Page 6Into t Lttic Pig Went to Market, Mieei f)lemene na being: no fevotite with her own sex, who voted her " whimsical and outrageous proud." To Betty, sorrowing alone in her own room, oame Mammy Lar, announcing with the pomp of woe that"that roue' be 'bout five thousand'beolea in the yard," that Dr. Welle had arrived, and that her aunt was waiting for her at the top of the ataire to desoend and go with the funeral cortege to the graveyard. Her Gant, a. tall figure, draped like herself in a blank crepe veil that hid her fade, took her band, and they dee aeended together. The ceremony was conveyed to Betty in a series of vivid expressions, tor, as is often the case, the. Dense of grief was temporarily forgotten and blunted by the break in its monotony and the exoiting presenoe of a crowd. i i dampness of the Betty felt. the c3 ng p ng air as, still bolding her aunt's hand, they pissed direotly behind the bier foto the yellow grace of the garden, Through her veil the day looked darker than before as they etood by the open grave, while Dr. Wells, in his white surplice, read the impressive burial service. Half aehamed at her own distraction, the worde fell un- heeded on her ear. She saw the lowering sky that seemed to cling to the dull earth, the turbid waters below the bank, and, in the foreground, barren treee, and naked flower stalks • even the matted cry santhemunes, discolored with mould, and one pallid rosebud that clung to its stem, and ehivered in the wind that blew over the water, chilling the hare heads of the men, and sending into the group around the grave ewirle of rustling leaves. Betty's gaze took in the well-known feces around her with their unfamiliar expree. Mons of grief. She felt almost amused at the long•drawn, ashen coantenenoee of the darkies hovering on the outskirts, and etre. Jeesup'e display of a fine muslin handker- chief. The Roziere held a oonepioous position among the mourners, for Mr. Rozier had been a playmate of Bab's when they were children. Betty wondered if he were think. ing of those far.off days as he stood with bent head and eyes gravely fastened on the ground. On what ? She shuddered, for her eyes were riveted on the long, black A Tale Of the American box that held the thing that had once been Bab, the chrysalis from which the glorified soul had fled. " So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in oorrnption, it is raised in inoorrnption ; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory," read Dr. Wells. Saddenly Mise Clem'a hand on hers tightened, and tightened in a grasp that almost caused her so cry aloud with pain. She looked aside at her aunt, and, through the thiokness of the two veils, saw that gaunt face set and rigid, with eyes that glared from ander knotted brows, pained and frantic, fixed on vacuity. " For this corruptible must put on inoor- ruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." Again the clasp tightened as it her band were in an iron vise. The pained blood numbed her arm and settled like a weight on her heart, and a doable blackness hid the world. She bit her lip to keep beck a or" Dust to duet, ashes to settee." Through the mist of pain clouding her senses Dame the sound of falling earth on the coffin -lid, a wild whirry of wind as a few heavy drops pattered on the dry leaves, sullenly increasing in volume. Still clasped in that cruel bondage, they walked to the house and Betty felt herself ascending the stein. At the second land• in she was free, staggering and einking upon the step, while her aunt, veiled and silent, moved away. " Aunt," palled Betty. The tall figure, looming in the hall above did not stay. "Leave me in peace," she cried, disap- pearing into her own room. Anxious to escape from the approaobing storm, carriage after carriage rolled off and the crowd rapidly departed, remembering as a last tribute to Mies Babe memory the proverb: " Blessed is the dead the rain rains on." Soon the house was empty and deserted, looking more isolated than before, in the deepening doenletion of the beaten fields. the rain lasted for several days, shutting ont, like a veil, au ,ave the garden and near view of the meadows, with their rows of pointed haystacke, over which blindly driven gusts swept, beating on the roof over Betty's heed at night, and trickling from the eaves with a recurrent monotony that was like a voice singing to her in alanguage she could not understand. During the days that followed the funeral Mise Clem did not appear, and there was little occupation for Betty save to endeavor to interpret this same unceasing murmur that followed her as she went from room to room, to escape from it and from the femil. iar fancied footsteps, pausing behind every closed door. She sat in the parlor two evenings after the funeral, curled up in a big arm-ohair. One of the silver sconces of the mirror was lighted, blending with the deeper glow of the loge throughout the room, gleaming in the tarnished gilt moulding of the cornice, and touching to a richer hue the folds of the long, red damask curtains. She was worn out with grief and resting in a reaction of emotion that left her tranquil. Love, that had made existence vivid and real, seemed far away, a light that had flashedand faded into the distance of a long road. Still, weary in mind and body as she was, it was good to think of Tom, alive and strong, somewhere in the night, loving her. She could almost hear him say, as when in this very room, he had planed his hand on her hair," Thou dear little girl, half dead with ennui." The monotone from the dripping eaves caught the burden and changed to Tom's voice, sweet and caress- ing, lulling her to sleep. CHAPTER XII. When theles of eight begin to fall, and in the quiet skies /he little stars peep slyly out like baby angolt' eyes; When every bird 'tae ceaeed its song and slum. hers on its nest, My little girl. w itlt sunny hair, gets ready for her rest, Wa rotop together for a time, and then she sits her down And takes her shoes and stockings ole with many a dainty trown ; Then climbs upon niy knee and says: " Please, papa, one more time, Tell rue about the little pigs l" and so.I sin; the rhyme: CHO US. This little pig went to market, this little pig stayed at home ; Tkis little, pig he had roast beef, this little pig he had none. This little pig cried wheekt wheek! whoekl I can not find my war home; This little pig cried wheek 1 wheek I wheek ! I can net find my way home. rive little dainty, rosy toes, I count them each in turn. And all iu vain the baby trios the jingling rhyme tolear.. ; She mixes all the piggies up and misses half the tote, But still she tries, and every time is sure that nowshelcuows ; She thinks I'm vory mean to laugh, and then a frown appears, And then her lips begin to pout, her eyes to fill with tears, Bat long befure the teardrops fall I kiss them all away, And once again I count the toes, and once again Isay : Crtonus—This little pig went to market, etc. She makes cue last endeavor now, she says it very elo w, But still there's not enough o pigs, or else an extra toe. She don't know what's the matter, and she guesses that will do, She says, I don't think anyway that pigs are nine, doyou 7 Her little eyes grow bevy and she thinks she'll got to bed, So kneeling in her gown of white, the "Now I Lay 'tie's" said; A last good night to one and all, a last kiss long and sweet, And as I leave her to her dreams, I hear her still repeat: Cuonue—This little pig wont to market, etc. —Buffalo News, " L 4ST . CI `i'URY LOVERS," Revolution. CHAPTER XI. An apathy of waiting, begotten of a sense of the uselessness of all things save patience, that carried Betty through the dull, listless days of the waning year, was broken, late in November, by the rude shook of Miss Barbara's sadden death. One morning, after a buoy day of superintending house cleaning and curtain hanging, the wae found by Mandy, very still and cold in her high, curtained bed. " And a sweeter smile or a neturaller looking body 1 never Been in my days, when laid out," was the tearful eulogy of Mrs. Jessup, the joiner's wife, who exeroiaed a semi•professionai authority on such mourn- ful occasions amoog the gentry, her help being oertain to be proffered and aceeptea. "I've laid oat whole families in the neigh- borhood, but I never seen the like o' that smile. Seemed like she were ill-favored in her life, and not much account with Miss Clem, bas the Lord Almighty were just beckoning her to heaven." Mies Clem retired to her room and looked herself iu, leaving the last sed offices to saoh neighborly bodies as Mrs. Jessup and Mies Stacy, who, in an agitation of lachrymose importance, shared, with the village matrons, something of Mrs. Jeesup's lags brions honors es having been the dear friend of the "corpse." Till the last day of her life Mies Stacy never alluded to this dearedeceaeed friend save as " the aorpee." Daring the three days that followed, fall of the presence of death with its realism of paraphernalia, the sense of hidden mystery behind the familiar closed door, and the bustle of the funeral repast, Betty, in de. fiance of all established precedent, took ref age—with the inetinot of a child to re - tarn to the heart of its mother—in the sombre sympathy of wood and lowering skies that seemed in accord with her grief. After the solitary mid-day mail, she would Basten away from the house, where she constantly found herself looking for the well-known step and household bustle. Sometimes she would forged ally walk to the door of Bab's room, to be recalled to the sad truth by the chill air from the open window and the eight of the angular, sheeted outlines. That Bab ? Ali the questions and wonders as to the brobleme of life and death, that had been anished iu the glad sense of youth and love, recurred to Betty now in her solitary rambles, es she warted through the leaves in the bare woods, or through the stubble fields where lay scattered ears of porn, the yellow rows shining between withered husks like the teeth of a mummy behind its cerements. Once she found, lying in the road, ander the hedge, a little bird with one of its wings broken. She pinked it np and laid it on her muff, thinking that ehe would take it home to be oared for by Bab. Suddenly realizing that her aunt was not here, that she would never again see or speak to her in the old way, she walked down the dreary stretch of road between the brown meadows, with lips trembling and eyes that looked eagerly outward, as if the secret of the hereafter could be revealed in the glory of the sunset lightiog the fading land. The tiny creature was dying. A film formed over its bright eyes and the feathered reast palpitated. She stopped and lifted it to her lips. You too are going,yon little thing," she said, " to fly to that unknown land where Bele has gone. If you see her, tell her that I love her and miss her so much." Then she laid its limp, dead body in a fallow, put a clod over it, and felt, some. how, as if Bab got that message. Stealing upstairs at night, she would puede involuntarily at the closed door, es had always been her habit. It seemed oriel to leave Bab that way in the cold and dark, for she had ever been fond of a bright fire and gossip over the day's events, and Betty would lean her head against the door, whispering softly : "I remember. Goodnight, dear Bab." Interminable as seemed the three days of gloom, they drew to a close, ushering in the still gloomier day of the funeral. All morning the people wore arriving ; for a funeral in the country is somewhat of a semis' event bringing together the interests of remote neighborhoods. The front yard was fall of coaches and gigs. Stragglers from the village were opt to join the groupsof men who gathered out of doors, discussing the tobacco crop and the impending bad weather, and °metalon- ally wending their way to the dining -room for refreshments. In the parlor, whore the furniture wae covered with sheets and the open coffin rested on a bier in the centre of the room, the women gathered, stately ladies in mourning and powder at one end, and their litimbler sisters in homespun at the other, conversing of the virtues of the deceased in hushed whiepera, and predicting compla. Gently that "Clementine. would miss that sweet, sweet creature now ehe was gene." This opinion, Miss Stacy, flitting between both groups, found generally endorsed ; From this blissful oblivion Betty was roused by a noise in the hall. S tarting up, flushed and half conscious, ehe saw the door open. On the threshold stood her aunt, a fentastio figure, clad in a abort green silk in the fashion of twenty years before, with huge hoops displaying red, high.heeledslip. pers. Her skinny, yellow neck wee bare, and a tall headdress covered with lace adorned her hair. She waved a peacock. feather fan to and fro, beckoning to some one in the hall where there was nothing to be seen except Mammy bearing a oandle, the light of which fell on her bright kerchief and dark faoe, contorted in making signs that Betty half dazed could not understand. "Enter, friends," said Miss Clem, wav- ing to .,he snppostitious persons. "Rise, girl, and courtesy .to the guests. Here are your father and mother and Mr. De Conroy, who have come to spend the evening with ne. Such a merry, pleasant evening!" Her aunt was ineane 1 This was the solo• tion of the convulsive grip at the funeral. With stern dignity, her eyebrows knotted and expression wild, Miss Clem motioned the imaginary guests to be seated. '+ Converse with thy parents, ohild. I will eit hereand speak to Bentley De County, for it is long since 1 have seen him. Was it yesterday or years ago ?" Fear settled on Betty like a weight, a burden that would not be shaken off. Feel- ing stifled and faint, she sant beak in a ohair. Mammy stood beside ber rubbing her handy. "You MIN' humor ber, honey. You moa' humor her," " What's that you say ?" demanded Miss Olem, quickly " Iwufadtel in Kars Edwar d how well he's lookin'. Seemlak I ain't seen him fur a long time." "Yee, but dfamney," said Miss Clem, he a sharp whisper, "do you mark the blood on Mr. De Courcy's forehead, where the horse trampled on hie head—hie bonny yellow hair that used to be my pride ? " Don't go, don't leave me," said Betty, au Mammy moved toward the door. "Yer got to humor her. Don't be afraid, chile, she won't hurt yer. I'll stare out. side de do'." The firelight flickered on Mies Clem's gro teeque figure, throwing it into bold relief against the background of a shadowy corner, where there was vaguely defined the bank of a straight damask chair, toward which, as she played with her fan and epoke, she occasionally glanced uneasily. You must excuse my sister Barbara,' she said, looking around apologetically, " she osnnot see you tonight. I do not want her to hear me, but the troth is she's sitting over there in that corner. She's jest dead and not need to it yet, poor silty thing, as we have been for so long. I have asked her repeatedly to come, but to no avail." The fan went up, and she began to whisper behind it with a ghastly affectation of girlish coquetry. Betty's attention became fascinated on this one spot. In her over -wrought state of mind the idea haunted her that in the ohair sat her aunt Barbara, looking as when she had last seen her, with waxen, bandaged face and halt closed eyes. The moments passed like hours. The drip, drip from the eaves became a mocking voice, goblin -like : "Go to the corner and look." At length, capable of bearing the tension no longer, she crouched down, hiding her face in her hands It was better thus. She could not see, but she could hear her aunt talking to the three dead people, for though invisible they were none the lees present to Betty—not their spirits but some seeming resemblance to their bodies. Bat some demon had taken posseeeion of Bab, in plane of the pure Boni, and that horror, hidden by the ohair•baok, was the most vivid of all. How long it was she never knew, but at length Mies Clem, having finished her whispered discourse with Mr. De Courcy, began to address the company in a voice that changed and ran through the gamut of feeling. Yon ask me," she said, "news of the world. You have been hid away so long from thinking that you meet have for- gotten. Well, I wi.l tell you, but in confid- ence, for you meet know that it is only we —you are dead, and I, whom they pall crazy—that see plainly how all things are tending. First, you eek me what is this life. Hearken 1 The world is an island eat in apace, and above and below and around is a mystery none can fathom. In the midst of this, coming into being, are the atoms called men who are born blind— purblind. Ay, listen 1 This miserable little spot, which may be effaced at any moment, is swarming with blind human worme, biting and crawling over each other, and burrowing in the slime whence they are generated. " These worms are all mad about ambi. tion or pride, and call themeelvee this or that pompous, lying name. Then they die• appear and are seen no more, and the others keep blindly scratching and biting— and they are all mad—mad—mad 1" She gave a abort laugh. "Yon know- I wae always given to thinking on these fentactio subjects—always whimsical. Whet droll talks we used to hold in the old times 1 I mind me of one evening we sat in the gloaming. The bats wore flying over the meadows. Honoria had on her knee a sweet babe, and I wee happy, for yon were there, Bentley, and you loved me. Who segs that he did not love me? Yes, grizzled and ill.favored as I am, I too have had my hey -day of youth and folly. 'We will all meet again to visit the one that aurvivies,' said I, for I was a mad - cep girl given to vagaries— and we are all here 1 Then, when Bentley rode away I walked with him to the hedge and bade him farewell. He held my rose to his lips as he rode off, never to come again—never—for the next day they found you on the reed with your skull crushed. Ob, God ! oh, my God ! what I went through then ;'for each of these conntleae human lives has a capacity for enduring pain that is not ganged by its insignificance and shortness of duration, but can be infinite. Oh, but had I the power equal to my will, the earth would creak to its hese, and the stars flashing with fire, would tear on in a mad race of death. On, on 1 faster, faster -1 1— How they wail and cringe, these pitiful atomiee ! On—on—little world, into the palm of the bottomless abyss of annihila- tion 1" She paused a moment: "No, you never came back, my love. In the long nights I used to creep out and lie on the groes where we parted, and look np at the stars waiting for you. I was an un- common fool when a girl, and hare -brained enough. Sing? Ay, that will I, though I am hoarse." The keys of the harpaiebord jangled under her tonoh. She hesitated a moment and then began to play a lively dancing tune. " Dance the rigadoon, as eon used. Bentley moves quite gracefully, Ah, w will have a merry evening. Betty, with her eyes oloeed, saw it all, while the music went on, saw Mrs De Conroy as in the miniature, blonde and graceful, and her father in his bine velvet coat, the dia- mond ring on his finger glittering in his lace jabot, moving to and fro with stately movement, bowing with courtly grave. Her own dear mother eat still, looking at Betty with a sweet, gentle emile, and, in the corner—ob, horror!—a waxen, ban- daged faoe peered now and then from be- hind the chair. Soddenly the dancing oeaaed. Mine Clem changed abruptly into minor chords as she began to sing, with a cracked voice : Damp are the curls on thy bonny head, And thy cheek is wen and white But like glow worms on thy earthly bed Do thine eyes with love shine bright.' 'Why have ye tarried eo long,' she said, ' Since the night you rode away? The years have come and the years have spud; I am grown so old and gray; And the lips you kissed then, fresh and red, They can but mumble and pray. 11 come from out on the hill,' the said, ' Where the snake and ground -rat dwell ; They held me fact in my chii'y bed ; I could not come to thee well ; The light in my eyes ie the light of dread Lit from the fired of hell.' " Ay, 'tie the light that barns within ng all, smouldering in the ashes of youth." The door opened and Mammy entered, bearing a waiter. " I thought the company monght like some 'treehment," she said passing the waiter to the imaginary guests. " Now, Marge Edward, yer take some er dat cordial. It's mighty gond. Mies Honoria, yer'll relish dat rusk. Honey, !" she whispered to Betty, " take .two or free pieces." Betty shook her head and looked at her with white, euppli- oating faoe. She felt that ehe mast have grown old in the eternity that had paned, ilfammy wae ec)ual to the emergenoy. "Laws retiree l Ie yer all Ovine home die soon ? Yer'll have a mighty bad night."" Mine Clem wept through a profuse °our• teeying andleave-taking, toilowingMammy, who held a candle, into the hall. " Still sulky, Barbara' ? " elle called out. Will you, thee, stay there all night? Good -by" Betty shuddered and walked backward the nor- ` out of the room, her eyes fixed on ner. They moved upstairs, a strange pro. (ema im, Mise Clem majeetio in her finery, Mammy bearing the candle, and Betty, with pale face, peering over the banisters into the bleaknebe below. When they Dame to the open door of her own room she crept in, shutting and bolting it behind her. Here there was only the firelight, and in each of the four corners her fauoy pictured the ohair and its ghastly occupant. She could not pray, after Mine Clem's words. Of what avail could be the prayer of an insignificant atom in such an infinity of souls ? Undressing herself and crowing the room, she caught the reflection of ber white -robed figure in the mirror. She stood trembling, unnerved, the unceasing voice of the rain mocking her with elusive aadenoe- There was a sound of footsteps coming down the hall, stopping at the door. It was Bab, who was lonely n the parlor, and had to Dome to her. "Lemma in, honey, 'aid Mammy's voice. " What yer dein', etandin' hyar in yo' bare feet, chile ? Yer want ter ketoh yer det er cold ? Jump inter bed, an' lemme took yer in snug." The relief of the kind, human voice was too mnah. Betty threw herself on the bed in a sort of nervous obill, where she aoald shed no tear, bat ley cold and trembling. "Dere now, honey, be quiet. She's bin die way off'n on, ebber since Mane De Conroy died. She'll git over it in a day or two, an' be all right again. Don't yer tell nobody, Mies Bab, nebberlet no one know it. Plenty deee yere pore white trash bin axin' me, but I never tells 'em nuffin. If she wnz fifty times crazier an' she is, she's Miss Vaughan, and bette'n any they low- lived selves. Dere now, pore little lam." " Mammy, the next .time she ie Bo, I'll take care of her like Aunt Bab did." "'Deed, yer won't den. Wat's de use uv a good•fur.nnffin nigger lek me ? Mies Barb'ra killed herself that way. Yer' jes' gwine ter stay young en' pretty, and marry Mersa Tom when he oomes home lookin' so happy'nfine 1" Then Mammy, still patting the bed- clothes, began to rook to end fro in her ohair, crooning a plantation hymn : "De stars in de elements am fallin', De moon shall turn inter blood, But the chillan ob der Lord Am combo' home ter God. Blo:eed am de name ob de Lord," until Betty was soothed to Bleep. It was a troubled and uneasy slumber, however, for she dreamed that, somewhere in mirk and gloom Tom's dear heed rested on her breast, pierced with creel splinters of glees that broke as she tried to pull them out. At each groan from him a pain went through her heart, and she awoke to find herself alone, in a convulsive agony of sobs. " He suffers, my love. Oh, God, let me Buffer in his stead 1 Dear Christ, let me know that he still lives ! " Wearied out, lyiog still, a great change Dame. The rain beat on the roof and the shadows deepened with the dying flame, but she had no fear. It was as if God had stooped and lifted her to heights whence she saw all created beings, the living end the dead mouldering in their narrow graves, alike pare and holy in his eight, fulfilling Hie will. Folded in unutterable peace that was like the ebbing of a midnight sea, she and Tom were together, his arms around her, float- ing to some greater mystery—out—oat— CHAPTER XIII. That winter life passed strangely at the Vangbane'. Mies Clem alternated from sea- sons of supreme authority, when her energy and oversight of the plantation were un- natural, to days of inanition and lack of in. tereet in all mundane matters, even the events of the war, looking herself in her own room to pore over some musty volume. Thus mnoh responsibility devolved upon Betty, who wee all the better for being ac- tively employed during the lonely, bleak months. Beyond the actual life of everyday work and routine, of supervising the women in their sewing and distributing the weekly red tions to the negro quarters, wae a no less real inner life which she led in a new world where every sense was quickened, and the present and future seen only by the light of her love. Communication with Tom was impossible, but no doubts of his faith troubled her. Here, where they had walked and lived together, he seemed always pre°. ent, and the barren land bloomed and blos- somed to new wonders, like Aarod's rod, by the magic of a mysterious double life. She said to herself," My true love hath my heart and I have hie " ; and, secure in this happy oonsoionsness, fears even as to hie safety did not assail her. (To be continued) Dave Potts' Wife. Boston Herald: We were sitting in & small pnblic hell in a town in Connecticut, waiting for the lecturer to appear. There were about 300 people present, and, at a moment when everybody wae quiet, a man marched up the centre aisle, mounted the stage, and turning to face the audience, he asked in solemn tones " Is Dave Potts in this 'ere crowd ?" Silence. "Ie Dave Potts in this 'ere crowd?" continued the speaker in louder and more solemn tones. "Dave Potts is 'ere," said that in- dividual, as he stood up. " Air anything wanted ?" She be," answered the man on the stage. "Your wife has been tooken, end wants yon," " Tooken with what?" Fits, and the wags kind, and two women was a rubbin' her when I cum away. Go hum, Dave Potts. Yon hain't 110 biznese crouching around a literary entertainment, any how." And as Dave walked out the man oame down and took a front seat with the air of an orator who had won a prize. Legal counterfeiters. Pittsburg Despatch: Statesmen are the only people who are permitted to pees bad bine. Scotland has 50,000 volunteers ; while England, which should have 350,000, has only 170,000. Signs of Death. Bellows—What makes you fear your eon out in Colorado is deed ? Fellows (with a sigh)—He hasn't written for money for nearly a month. " Well, said Brown to his newt mar- ried friend, " so your wife does the cook. ing.? I wonder you are alive to tell the tale!" " Yee," replied the other, " but am alive—alive and kicking." A. $W11001' SINAII& OONE, Madame Stewart 1Paesea Away 131/aging of Her Loved Native Land, Mra. Welter Braoe (Madame Stewart), of Druce and Patriok'S Balmoral Choir, died on 'Tuesday morning at the home of ber oouein, Mr, David Bruoe, No. 265 North May etreet, It will bo remembered that Mrs. Bruce turned suddenly ill at the concert given by the Orkney and Shetland Sooiety in Farwell Hall on Deo. 175h, and wee unable to finish her part of the pro. gramme. She was taken to the home of her relative and it was not at first thought that her illness was eo various, but on Sunday- it was considered advisable to telegraph Mr. Brune, her husband, who was in Pittsburg, and he arrived hero on Monday. Deceased, who was but 33 yearn old, was a very popular soprano of Gleiegow, and her untimely death will be mourned by et 'ergo circle of friends and admirers in Scotland and Atnertoe. A touching iuotdent in connection with Madame Stewart's closing hours was her pathetic singing of the old Sootoh soot;, " The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond." Her mind wee evidently tra- velling back to the loved heather hills of her native land, of which she had often sang so sweetly, and it was with tear• dimmed eyes that those who smoothed her dying pillow lietened to the failing voioe of the sweet Binger aa' ebe thus teebly breathed her farewell song : " You'll tak' the high road and Ill tak' the low road, And I'll be in Scotland afore you. But me and my true love, we'll never moot again On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond: The funeral took place on Thursday, a large gathering of friends following the remaioe to the piece of interment in Rome Hill Cemetery.—Chicago British.American. The Soot and Fits nag. The folio wine, taken from Sooton paper of the year 1866, will be interesting reading now: "Dr. Norman MoLeod said: The -first thing I saw on entering the meeting to -night wes'the flag here, (pointing to the Union Jack) Yon kuow that is the flag of oar country. Very well, that is the bravest flag in the world. (Cheers.) It is the flag of the finest country on the face of the earth. (Cheers.) There is not a country in the world—and I hove been in many— like it. (Renewed cheers.) I have been in ever so many and I never sew more beauti• fel hills, more beautiful 'oohs, more beauti- ful valleys, than those in our country. And there ie not a town in the whole world to be compared with Edinburgh. (Cheers.) There ie not a country in the world that has more be sutiful Bongs ; and there is no music that will make you laugh, and greet, and dance, equal to the old Scotch mneio. (Cheers) There ie not a oonntry on the face of the earth where you have more Gospel truth—where you have such Sab- bath schools—where there ie a clergy more earnest in inetruating young and old in the fear of the Lord. What I have to say to yon is, wherever you go on the face of the earth you are not to forget that flag, and you are not to disgrace your country. Over the whole world there are Sootohmen. I have preached to Sootohmen in Russia, in Sweden, in America, in Egypt, in Turkey, in Italy—there ie hardly a place where I have not preached to Sootohmen ; and these generally have been an honor to their country, except when they take to drink, and then they become the biggest black guards on the face of the earth. (Laughter and cheers ) Some Things Worthy of Attention. In order to call attention to the great care necessary before burying the dead, the following extraote from a medioal journal are given namely, five signs of death : First sign—Cessation of circulation and respiration. Second—Cooling of the body from 99 degrees to that of atmosphere, usually in 24 honre or lees. Tbird—Rigidity, which begins in about six honre after death ; after some hours there is again relaxation. Fourth—Resietanoe of mneolee to galvan- ization. Fifth—Mortification, which generally commences about 40 hours after death, and nenally shows first over the stomach. Physicians should always see the dead person before giving a oertificate, even in cases where they have been in attendance just before death. On the authority of a physician it is understood that in embalming a alight incision is made firat, before going on with the process, which seems a necessary safe- guard. The attention of mothers and nurse', is called to the danger of oovertng infante' heeds too closely, lest they should not have enfetolent air to breathe freely. Easy Washing. Soak the clothes in the ordinary way night before washing. When ready to wash pea clothes through wringer. Then put in the boiler 24 pails of water, 4 bar of seep, about 1 oz. of paraffine wax, which can be had in wholesale drug stores at 15o. a pound. The soap and pareffine will die - solve while the water is heating. The clothes may then be put in. When the water boils after the clothes are put in, note the time and continue the boiling one -halt hour, after which take out clothes and rinse them in hot water ; the dirtier pieces will require rnbbing, the othere, not eo soiled, will not need the rubbing. The process of bluing is conducted in the ordinary manner. Paraffine wax will not damage the most delicate materials, but rather the contrary delioate tissues are preserved in the same for years. The above process is not only a saving of labor, bat also prevents destruction of clothes in the ordinary process of rubbing. This recipe is not for woollens. Becoming Dangerous to Live. Are we safe nowhere from baoteria, some one; inquires, no even when we are sealed np in a vacuum in a glees case? Not con tent with showing us that horrid monsters claw and fight in every drop of water we drink, scientific- gentlemen have now been microscopically overhauling a hailstone and finding that an infinitesimal speck of the ice contains no lees than 400 to 700 of the bacteria, says the Scientific American. They may be the germs of smallpox, scarlet fever, leprosy, naughtiness and crime. Not even ice will kill them, for they thaw out and Wriggle ferociously. ,The invention of the microscope 'revealed wonders to man, but it has made life a burden to nervone people. Nothing is free from miarobee any more, nothing is pure, except the benevo- lent motive of one, says the same inquirer, who lends a friend $5 when he never expects to get it beak again. Two remarkably big men were buried at Marshall, Ill,, Mat week. Charles Keller, aged 20, weighed 400 pounds and an 18 - year -old son of David Reynolds weighed a few pounds more than 400. There was no hearse in town large enough o carry the coffin of either of them. The average Wellesley College 'el weighs 119 feet 2 inohee in heightnd is a trifle eve NKWSPAPLit. Mr1U014 A group of newspaper men dined to, gather at Provideuoe, Rhode Island, the other night, and, naturally, they talked ebop. Some'of the pointe brought out to the dieouseton will interest the general reader. For inetanoe, there is news and newe. The story of any grime is news, but indecent and purely soneational narration; or "padding out ' with ehooking details is, not news. The newspapers should gives "all the news," but it should be genuine and decent and served with regard for pub• lic morality and so se to afford right hi- es un ent curreven, Tre- epectaraotible newpospaper will nottssmirchhe it® columns even for "filthy lucre," There is a sensationalism which is proper, but it is born of real evente,not of repertoriel inter- pretation of them. The appearance of the one in the newspaper column is legitimate. The use of the other finds no excuse, save in a desire for a notoriety whi©b cannot bo gained by legitimate means. We believe the decent eentiment of the public will agree with the viewe advanced above. There is news, that ie, reports that come to every newspaper offioe', of actual events that is not fit to be laid before the general public. These events may be orimea of a partioulerly malodorous nature or social scandals, the publication of which will bear more heavily on the innocent than upon the guilty and with which the general public have no legitimate business. The suppression of such reports is in the inter- est of good morals and osnnot harm any reepeotable journal. Among the strongest pointe made on the occasion noted above wee that of Telcott. Williams, of the Philadelphia Press, in oritioizing the personal and impertinent features of some modern journals. The praotice of invading the homes of the people and prying into affairs that are essentially of a purely private character ie an outrage upon the rights of the indi- vidnale concerned. We refer, of aonrso, to ogees in which the consent of the parties interested has not previously been secured. It a lady desires to have her entertain- ments and attire and personal affairs written up for the press there can be no serious objection to it providing the work is done in a proper manner. But the key -hole society reporter is an unmitigated nuisance and should be promptly kicked off the front stoop of a house where .he is discovered carrying on his clandestine operations. Some Plain Talk. " Anti -Bazaar " in Montreal Witness : Six,—The bazaar season is now set in, and methinks the Witness, Star and other city papers deserve a vote of thanks for the free notices and graphio descriptions of them, and we should thank our pity fathers for granting the bazaars exemption from taxes, but, above all, thanks are due to the fancy goods dealers who so patiently accept the position and give their wares to there noble charities, pay 811 the taxes heaped on them and pay you good gold for every line in paper. All through the dark, damp spring, the hot dry summer and oold,bleak fall the " dealers " have been patiently waiting for and looking to the holiday trade to help them take np a note, reduce a heavy stook or Dover loos of doll times, bat jaat as their hopes are getting ripe the bazaar vulture sweeps down on them and all their hopes, ripe or green, are 'mellowed up. Ten thousand dollars, they say, was taken at one bazaar, but how mach will be taken this winter through bazaars in our so-called Christ -Like churches? Would it be too much to say $50,000? On all this there is no tax, no wages, no rent, otten no cost and all profit. To whom does this amount rightfully belong ? From whom is it stolen? How much harm will it do? How muoh good ? How much will Christ accept, bless and use for his own glory ? A few dealers may cloae their doors or be sold out, but this is nothing ; no one Dares; the °hurohee end military olabe have their right 1 Mothers who would scorn to let their daughters serve in a store for an honest wage, deck them out like harlequins and plane them behind a counter to preside over eoap.bubbles, ice cream or throwe for overvalued articles, or presumptuous poli- tical "tools "—and think they are doing God's work or a noble charity. It high- toned churches and military (Aube have come down to the level of oharity—then we have reached our best days. How to Keep Healthy In India. By direction of Sir Frederick Roberts, the principal army mediae' officer in India baa issued on a flyleaf is series of simple rules for the maintenance of health in the hot weather in the plains. There are in all thirteen of these rules, couched in plain, terse language, and although intended primarily for the soldier and his family they are equally applicable to all Euro- peans. Thee people are warned that lege meat and more fruit and vegetables would be mortebealthful ; that spirits should be eschewed altogether, and malt liquor should not be taken until after sundown, and never on an empty etomeoh ; that sleep should be taken before, not after meals; that amateur aelf•dootoring ie bad, especi- ally in such diseases as enteric fevers, which need to be taken promptly ; that in dry weather it ie well to sleep away from the stuffy atmosphere of rooms in- habited by day. Mothers are advised to see that young ohildren are indoors in the hot weather by 7 a. m., to proteat the head carefully, and it with umbrellas with white covers and green lining, eo much the better. The value of flannel for wear in hot weather is insisted on especially at night, to avoid the chili, which may be deadly. Native bacon in every form is to be a avoided, meat should be given epariogly to ohildren, the beat diet being soup in which vegetables have been well boiled, bread, milk, riot, arrowroot and eggs. Milk frons native dairies should be boiled before nee,. and the purchaser should see the cow milked. Condensed milk is better for chil- dren than ordinary milk. The leaflet con- taining these direction° has been circulated in all the barrack, cantonments and mili- tary stations in India.—London Times. Carry the news to Mary, And, pray, be not too long, For she is fast declining, And, surely, 'twould be wrong— not to tell her of Dr. Pierce's' Favorite Presoription. We do want Mary to know in some way or other, that this world.famed remedy wilt cure her beyond any doubt! It's just the medicine for young woman- hood, and thousands has it bridged over that perilous sea. From every State, from every city, from nearly every neighborhood in this broad. land, comes the grateful acknowledgment of what it has done and i' doing for our daughters. The only medicine for the dig - trussing and, painful irregnlaritiee and weaknesses of woman, gold with a positive guarantee to give satisfaction in every case, or money refunded. In other words, sold on trial re it a Home Bird ? Albany Argus : Here is a tariff problem. An Arizona cow strayed morose the border into Medico and gave birth to a oalf. Mr. McKinley should determine whether it is a pauper calf or a home industry. • de The Centime's chin hes begun to double and ber girth 10 greater than f yore.' hre