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Lucknow Sentinel, 1892-04-08, Page 2The Modern School Teacher. It was. Satnrday night, and a teacher sat Alone, hr task pursuing; She averaged this, and she averaged that Of all her class was doing. She reckoned percentage, so many boys, And so many girls are counted - 4.11d -marked all the tardy and absentees - And to what all the absence amounted. Names and residences wrote in full, Over many columns and pages; Canadian, Teuttnio, African; Celt, And averaged all their ages, The rate of admission of every one, And cases of flagellation. ,A.nd„prepareda nal:of graduates For Vaa, county examination. Her weary head sank low on her book, And her weary heart still lower; For some of her pupils had little brains, And she could furnish no more. - She slept, she dreamed; it seemed she died, And her spirit went to Hades, And they met her there with a question fair, "State what the per cent. of your grade is r Ages had slowly rolled away, Leaving but partial traces, And the teacher's spirit waked one clay In the old familiar places. It mound of fossilized school reports Attracted her observation— As high as State House dome, and as wide As Boston since annexation. She came to the spot whore they buried her bones, And the ground was well built over; nut laborers' digging threw up a skull, One planted beneath the clover. A disciple of Galenswandering by, Paused to look at the diggers, And, picking the skull up, looked through the eye And saw that 'twas lined with figures. "Just as I thought," said the young M. D., "Bow easy it is to kill 'ern!" Statistics ossified, every fold " Of cerebrum and cerebellum." "It's a great curiosity, sure," said Pat, "By the bones you can tell the creature l" "0 nothing strange," said the doctor, "that Was a nineteenth century teacher. ' —Educational Gazette. A BARITONE'S DEVOTION ; OR A TALE OF SUNNY ITALY. So the two set off together, arriving somewhat late, and having to content them- selves with places at the very back of the church. Carlo felt strangely tired, but .he was very happy in having met Clare and Mr. Britton once more, and he was glad Sardoni had volunteered to come with him. Mae beautiful building, and the music, and the service, which were always associated in his mind with Naples and Francesca,Would, even in their intro external aspect, have been a refreshment; and he was gaining the rest he much needed when the sermon began and startled him back into his worlring-day existence. For the preacher, sitting in his country vica.rave, and well conversant with all the pleasures of the country, which seemed to him the only pleasures -worth enumerating, had written a fierce diatribe against the pleasures of the town, and notably against theatregoing. Perhaps it had not occurred to hini that members of the obnoxious theatrical profession might be numbered in his flock; apparently he considered them all to be reprobates, for he spoke of them in no measured terms, and denounced that profession as an unhallowed calling. Feeling, somehow, that the sermon had shut him out from the fellowship which he expected to find in a church, and had made him an alien even in the body to which he rightfully belonged, he made his way out again into the dark, dreary street, up which the March wind blew gustily. A -sense of intolerable fatigue came over him; "What a pace you are walking at, Jack !" he exclaimed. "One might think • you were blessed with the seven -leagued boots, and were keeping up with Sirocco !" Sardoni modified his pace; and Carlo, glancing at him'saw an expression about his mouth which boded no good. "I'm sorry we came in for that sermon;" he said. " Well, at any rate, it will serve to show you what British prejudice is I" said Sar- doni, speaking more fiercely than the occa- sion.seemed to warrant. I don't know what effect it will have as to theatre -going, but I know that I shan't't darken the doors of a church again in a hurry." CHAPTER XXIV. AN ENGLISH HOME. The next day, according to his promise, Carlo went over to Merlebank. "How good of you to come," said Clare, hastening forward to greet him as he was shown into the drawing -room; "1 was • afraid this gloomy afternoon might frighten you away. I must introduce you to Fran- cesca's cousins, Whom you have so often heard of." • "You can stay a nice long time,I hope?" said Clare. "Mr. Britton will be coming in soon, I think, and he especially wished to see you. He so much enjoyed your singing on Saturday." " This is my off day," explained Carlo, "80 1 am not bound to,he back by any special time. It is Fra Diavolo ' to -night, and I have no part in that." "Is that your only chance of a holiday? • Do you mean that you sing all the other nights of the week ? " "That just ddpends on whether the en- gagements dovetail into each other. Very often they do. When the town is import- ant we generally stay a week, and then the round seldom varies. Arrive on Sunday, Faust' on Monday, Fra Diavolo ' Tues'l day, Somnambula ' Wednesday, 'Lucia' Thursday, Barbiere ' Friday, Rigoletto ' Saturday, on to the next place on Sunday." " Is the traveling always done on Sunday ?," Not always, bat very frequently. You ee it is the only day you close your the- atres. Now with us the theatres are shut on Friday, but we -play our best operas in our best style on the festa. There is some- thing to be said for both sides of the ques- tion. Last week we had engagements of two and three nights only at small places, and traveled here in detachments, the bulk of the company by special train on Friday evening, the rest of us on Saturday after- noon. So at Ashborough the days are slightly varied, and on Thursday we move on to Queenbury for two nights." While he talked he watched with the in- terest of a foreigner all that was going on, wondered for what reason the footman ap- peared with a trivet and a bright copper kettle, and speculated as to the little fold- ing table which was being set up on the • other side of the fireplace. A daintily - worked cloth was spread over if, then came the explanation in the form of a beautifuly Inlaid ebony°AA -Silver tray, with the most fascinating of silver tea-services,and delicate blue and white china cups. "This is just like Salem," announced Gigi "We've never had real proper tea since Salem." Carlo, seeing that Kate had some un- known designs on thecopperkettle,hastened to offer his service& , "Ten -making is a process I have never seen," he said, wondering what on earth he was to do with the kettle now that he had valiantly seized upon it. "You don't mean to say Francesca haen't introduced aftenoon tea at Casa Bella?" There was a general exclamation. "You see, in Italy we naturally enough go in more for cooling drinks. She was very clever at making lemonade." There must have been a brain -wave be- tween him and Kate, for at that moment she startled him with the question, "1 suppose they have new neighbors low at Casa Bella? Who took your house when you left ?" "It was taken by Count Carossa " he replied. "Mr. Britton met him at Naples on Whit -Sunday. He has it yacht not unlike the Pilgrim, and was anchored close by." I remember now, father mentionedhim. What sort of a man is he? Will Uncle Britton like him ?" "1 believe he was much taken with him," replied Carlo, hearing his own calm replies, with a sort of astonishment. "Uncle is dreadfully fond of people with titles," said Kate. "It is his one weakness. Is the Count Carossa really nice, do you think ?" "1 have only met him once," replied Carlo. "He is quite young and very rich, rather an original sort of man, has travelled a great deal, and is a good raconteur." He ran off the list of his rival's merits un- falteringly, but was secretly relieved by an interruption. In the hall there was a little bustle of arrival and welcome. The return of the father and son from business madeone of the pleasantest of the daily events in that quiet country household. They brought with them a sort of atmosphere -of the world which was refreshing. Generally there were commissions to be delivered, or library books to be eagerly seized upon, and inva- riably there was some sort of news to be discussed. Carlo realized something of this as Mr. Britton came into the room with Lucy, his favorite daughter, clinging to his arm, and the dog Oscar, son to the ,elderly Bevis, at his heek 4 Harry Britton had not yet acquired, however, his father's easy, genial way of talking; he seemed not quite at his ease with the Italian; and, after • the greetings were over, moved away with a perceptible air of relief, which tickled Carlo not a little, and began to open the shiny black bag which he held in his left hand. From this he proceeded to dole forth various pur- chases which the girls had asked him to make, ending with the evening paper, which he as usual brought dutifully to Clare, with a little time-honored joke, which had for them all a halo of happy assoeiations. He felt a.great wish to do something for these people, and knowing that etiquette forbade them to ask him to ,sing, and that Clare was anxious to hear him, be took ad- vantage of some reference which Mr. Brit- ton made to his singing in " Faust " to offer to sing them " Dio Possente." The unmistakable look of i'el delight which greeted the suggestion, '''and the eager way in which Molly and Flo ran to open the piano, pleased him more than the loudest public applaute could have done. He sang very well, and entranced his hear- ers, rousing even Harry out of his shy reserve. "Do you ever sing English songs ? " he asked, when the chorus of thanks had ceased, volunteering his first uncallecl-for remark to the -Italian. "Not very often," replied Carlo, wonder- ing whether he could get through "Love for it Life," and after a moment's debatelde- ciding to risk it tor the sake of pleasing Francesca's cousin. "There is one song by my old maestro with English words. Per- haps you know it?" He struck a few chords, then broke into the introduction to the song, which trans- ported hirri once more to that first happy day of his betrothal. Tosingit was hard, and yet his yery emotion gave him a power which he would not otherwise have possessed—it made him able to bring tears into the eyes of more than one of his listeners—it set kind-hearted Mr. Britton weaving plans for a reconciliation, and imagining a happy ending to Francesca's love story. "Ho seems it nice sort of fellow l" was Harry's comment when. the guests having departed, his natural manner returned to him. " I say, it didn't matter' did it, my asking him if he sang Englishsongs I thought none of those operatic fellows did." " Oh des r, no," said Clare. "Nothing pleases Carlo so, much as to give pleasure." "He is far too good for that company," said Mr. Britton. "1 shouldn't be at all surprised if he did leave the stage before I long. Lhope he may—I hope he may ! There's something about hith which quite fascinates one, though I do wish he could have been an Englishman." The laughter evoked by this truly British remark was only checked by the warning clock, which made Clare and the younger girls beat a hasty retreat to the school -room and sent Kate to.rea.d to her invalid grand- mother, and to moralize in her own mind over Carlo's mistake in choosing sounworthy a profession. CHAPTER XXV. A LAST STRUGGLE. On the Wednesday morning- , af ter a very restless night, he woke much worse than on the previous day, and feeling positively sick at the thought that he must either get through the trying part of Figaro that night or confess his illness, get a medal certifi- cate to prove his inability to appear, and sive all into the hands of Gomez and Comerio. For he knew too well that no doctor in his senses would; permit him to sing in his present state ; that he would in- fallibly be ordered to rest ; and for this ren - son, while taking every possible precaution i throughout the winter, he had avoided doc- tbrs as he would have avoided the plague. It was "still just possible that he might ' struggle on until the warm weather came; , then in June, Merlino might, and probably would, renew the contract with him, and he should go to America with the troupe and once more baffle Comerio. If he could- only hold ant lay in bed- AS vyng Am he (lard, then, knowing that Gomez would publicly com- ment on the fact if he failed to make Iiia appearance, and that Merlino invariably wanted him if he happened to be lath in the morning, dressed hastily, noticed with relief that he did not look nearly so ghastly as he felt, and 'went down to the crowded coffee -room. The hotel was full of people who had come down to Ashborough, for the races; they were it noisy, dis- reputable crew; and as Carlo entered the room where they were all breakfasting before ,going to the race -course, it seemed to him like coming into a pandemonium. His head was aching miserably, but his ears seemed preternaturally alive to the slightest Bound, and he could distinctly hear several comments on "one of those, operatic fellows" as he steered his way through the throng to the fireplace, nodding to Merlins, and Tannini as he passed them. "Good day, Donati; how are you ?" said it voice at his elbow. He looked round and saw the Spaniard's malicious face. "Good morning," he replied.. "How are you ?" repeated Gomez. " I'm cold, said Carlo, drawing nearer to the fire, and determined that Gomez should gain nothing from his catechism. "They don't know how to build up fires in this place." As he spoke he felt the Spaniard's search- ing glance, and knew that Gomez was far too shrewd not to find out the true state of the case. For although his rich, ruddy, brown coloring deceived many people, yet keen observers might easily note that day by day his cheeks grew more hollow, and that there were lines of pain about his mouth and eyes. There was to him it sort of horrible humiliation about it, for he had never been ill in his life, had thought it impossible that his perfect health should be broken, had almost laughed when Captain Britton had suggested the idea to him. It was useless, however, to blink the fact any longer; and when the place was quiet once more—the noisy guests gone oil to the races, and Merlino and Marioni to the theatre—Carlo gave way, shivering from head to foot almost like one in a fit of ague. "Cold morning, sir," said one of the overworked waiters, putting fresh coals on the fire. "Have you breakfasted, sir ? " "1 Won't take anything, thank you,", fAid Carlo, feeling not the slightest inclina- tion for food. Ile sat down to write to Clare, and Gigi ran back to his beloved soldiers, monoto- nously chanting, in his rather pretty little voice : Pray, Mr. Frog, will you give us a Fong, But let it be something that's not very long," "indeed, Mrs. Mouse,' replied Mr. Frog, "A cold has ruade me as hoarse as a hog." Carlo was fain to confess that day that it was a relief to get rid of his little com- panion. He sent him off to Merlebank with a friendly sceneshifter, and sat in a great arm -chair drawn close to the fire, bearing miserable headache and backache, yet find- ing it sort of relief in the consciousness that he could cough and shiver to his heart's content now that no one was near. He must have dozed for a few minutes, for on suddenly opening his eyes he found that Nita had come into the room, and was looking down upon him with her beautiful, heartless face, and once again that look of suppressed excitement which had pained him so much at Birmingham. " You are ill?" she said, breathlessly. "You are not going to sing to -night ?" He was on his feet in a moment. "Certainly I am going to sing," he said. "Marioni advised me not to g� out this morning, to save up for the opera, as I have a• cold coming on." He was sitting crouched up by the fire, his head resting on his hands, when Domenico. Borelli came into the room. She was tall and stately, with something both in her face and in her way of walking which revealed her charac- ter—a noble -minded, upright woman, whom to know was to revere. She was some years older than he was, and off the stage her face bore the stamp of its 30 years. "1 thought, perhaps, you would just go through Dunque io son with me," she said, as she crossed the room ; then as she drew nearer, and could see his face more clearly, "but I am afraid you are really ill ; you don't look fit to be up. " I would rather not try the duetto now, if you don't mind," he said. "Don't say anything to the rest; I may be better to- morrow." "But you ought to see a doctor," she said; "you ought to have a rest, I am sere. Signor Merlino must find a, subetitute till you are fit to sing again, since Fasola is able to take so few of your Parts." "It may come to that," he said, with a sigh that was almost a groan. "1 wish I had,a respectable under -study, who could at any rate do the work on occasion." Domenica Borelli had a woman's quick perception ; she instantly understood the whole story, that story to which Merlino was deaf and blind, though it concerned him so nearly. For the first time she under- stood Carlo. . Hitherto she had liked him as a fellow -artist, now she felt that she longed to be his friend. "Is there anything I could do to help you ?" she said, and there was something in her kind, quiet, unsentimental tone which conveyed to him perfectly the sense of that true friendship which,. -though many deny it, can most assuredly exist between man and woman. In his great distress of mind and body her help was precisely what he needed. "Indeed you can," he said, with tears in his eyes. "If at any time I should be obliged to leave the troupe—if I should fall you be it friend to my sister and to Gigi 2" it was asking a hard thing of her, for she particularly disliked Anita, but, guessing his reason for asking her, she could not pos- sibly have refilled him, 'There is one other thing," he continued; " I am unhappy about Sardoni ; he is in some trouble, I think. Be his friend, too, as you are mine." She left him to prepare as best ho might for the evening, and to count the quarters chimed by the clock in the town -hall, much as a prisoner might have counted them while waiting for the hour of execution. Sounds of bustle and confusion in the street warned them that the races must be over ; he left the sittingroom, feeling quite' unable to meet the scrutiny of Gomez, or to endure the talk of any of his confreres, and dragged himselfup to No. 62; and here, after a while, Gigi found him. " What ! gotie to bed so early, San Carlo ! " he exclaimed, trotting up with hia merry little face, but growing grave and genile as the truth began.. to dawn on his childish mind. "Are you better now ?" he asked very anxiously. • " I am only resting. Don't look so fright- ened, mio cam." "They sent you some flowers," said Gigi, putting a lovely bunch of tinewdeope and aconitee on the bed :; "and here is a letter, too." "You must go down to dinner, little one," he said, after a silence, in which Gigi had sat sat watching him with big, solemn exes. "If anyone asks why I don't come, say I have a bad headache, and shall rest till it is time to. go to the theatre." The hours passed by and Gigi did net return. Carlo imagined that Domenica Borelli had kept him, and was grateful to her. The clook struck seven ; he prayed in brief, disconnected sentences that he might be able to get through his work, that no evil might befall Anita, but he might judge rightly as to what could be done. Again, with a quickness which startled him, the quarter was chimed; he tried to think of Figaro sang a snatch or two of " Zitti, Zitti," arid felt that he would have given anything to be able to escape from the night's performance. He made his way to the sitting -room and looked in to see if Sardoni was there, but heard that he had already started. Merlino joinedshim in a grumbling humor; Gigi trotted up to say goodnight; and then, feeling like one in a bad dream, he found himself walking through the street among jostling passengers, and getting a sort of confused vision of the bad faces which always make their appearance in a town where races are being held. The distance between the Royal Hotel and the theatre was quite short, but it seemed to him that night almost endless; it was only by a great effort that he kept up with Merlino, and when he reached his dressing -room he felt as if he could not have stood another minute. "You are ill, sir ?" aid Sebastian°, the dresser, with anxiety. "It's all right; I will rest a minute," he replied, breathlessly. "Where is Signor Sardoni?" "In the greenroom signor; he dressed earlier than usual. . Let me call him." "No, no," said Carlo, quickly. "1 am better alone." And so perhaps he was, yet Sardoni's de- fection pained him—his friend had studi- ously avoided him the whole day. The dresser proposed all sorts of remedies, and Carlo patiently endured the well-mes fling chatter till he was thoroughly equipped in his Spanish costume and had been duly "nutde up " ; then he begged that no one might disturb him till the very last moment, and sat crouched up by the little fire, hear- ing in the distance the familiar sounds of the overture and the succeeding choruses. At last his hour came. " Quite time, signor," said Sebastiano, rapping on the door. He threw it open and walked slowly along the winding passages, arriving at the wings just in time to en- counter the chorus as they came off the stage. Some rumor as to his illness had got • abroad, and many good wishes and inquiries were made in the quick, silent Italian fash- ion from his friends among the chorus - singers. With very few exceptions he was, extremely popular in the company, and much sympathy was felt for him when it be- came apparent that he was far. more fit to be in bed than at the theatre. An attend- ant handed him a guitar, he heard the orchestra begin the introduction to his song, and his thoughts flew back from this miserable present to the sunny past He remembered how on his last day of un- alloyed happiness he had sung this very song in Piale's room in the Strada Mont' Oliveto, and how the old maestro had been in despair over his refusal to go on the stage. "Thank Heaven, he is not here to -night to be tortured by my bad performance !" was his last refleetion, as he drew himself together and walked on to the stage. The house was full, but by this time he had be- come rather discerning in the matter of audiences, and perceived at once that it had a larger proportion than on the previous night of the rowdy element, introduced into Ashborough by the races. He hardly knew whether to be relieved or vexed at, seeing Mr. Britton and his -so W in the stalls, and, _indeed, was able to spare little time to think of them, since he had to devote all his powers to conquering the agony of nervous- ness which had overwhelmed him. In vain he struggled to feel himself Figaro ; his head swam, every bone in his body - seemed to assert itself achingly, as though protest- ing that it belonged to one Donati, who ought to have been in his bed at that moment, and not at all to the blithe, merry barber of Seville. "Courage !" he said to himself. "11 I can't get into my character, I'll at least walk through the part like a man for Nita's sake !" • He set to work manfully, fully conscious that the conductor was eying hiin with fear and trembling, and anticipating some dire Mishap. Still he struggled on, exerting himself to the utmost, and trying to disre- gard the.evident symptoms of disappoint- ment which began to be manifest in the audience. He would not be influeeced by them, though he was too keenly sensitive not to perceive the sort Of wave of impatience and disapproval which passed over the faces of the listenina crowd. Endless seemed the song! At each brief in- terval it seemed to him more impossible that he should ever itet through it safely, and the mockery of the oft -repeated words, " Ahl che bel vivere, che bel; 'piacere !" made matters still worse. At length the end drew near; with relief at the prospect, and with a desperate effort, he dashed off into the final and more flotid repetitions of "Ah, bravo Figaro P' not without, even at that mcnet, a humorous perception Of the effects such words from such a singer must produce on the hearers. " Were 1 there instead of here I should laugh till I cried," he reflected. But it was almost over ; he had survived the last long florid passage; there remained only four more notes. Exhausted, strung up to the very highest pitch of endurance, he tried to take tho quick breath which was indispensable at that moment, but to draw it seemed impossible. He felt a sharp stab of pain, as though a knife had been stiddenly plunged in his side, yet the fatal white stick in Marioni's hand was raised, and with a last effort he forced himself to attack the high G. What followed was to him ever after it sort of nightmare recollection. His voice failed utterly, and the high note, which should have been the climax of the song, broke into a discordant sound that only ceased to ring in his ears when overpowered by a storm of hissing. Such a hopolese failure was too much even for the patience and kindliness of an Englieh audience; hisses resounded on all sides. It was in- tolerable to have paid money to listen, to _ouch a miserable performance. The people were really angry, and would not be paci- fied. For a moment or two Carlo stood looking at the angry, contemptuous faces with a sore -hearted sense of rejection and it keen personal pain; then, seeing that they would no longer tolerate his presence, he turned and walked away, but had only gone it few steps when a sudden remembrance that thin defeat meant Comerio's probable triumph all at once overpoivered him. The brightly - lighted stage became black as night, the hisses were drowned by a rushing sound isa hie ears, and he fell back in a dead faint. CHAPTER XXVI. BEHIND THE SCENES. Sardoni and Gomez, the Almaviva and Fiorello of the evening, were close at hand; Fiorello's part was practically over, but he had lingered near to see how Donati would get on; when he saw him hissed off the stage a quiet smile stole over Isis dark features, but when he saw him fall back fainting he rubbed his hands with satisfac- tion, lingered but a moment to assure him- self that the baritone lay motionless on the boards with his guitar beside him, then rushed as fast as hs could to his dressing - room, flung on a thick brown ulster, caught up his hat, and hurried out of the theatre. J ust outside the stage door he encountered Mr. Britton. Now Mr. Britton was one of those kindly - looking colurteous men who are constantly4 stopped by passers-by in the street who \ have lost their way or who need any kind of help ; Gomez instinctively turned to the pleasant -looking stranger. "Pardon me, sir, but can you kind:y teU me whether it is too late to send a telegram from the post office ?" he asked, breath- lessly. " Oh no, you will find it open," said Mr. Britton, looking at him keenly. "Gomez thanked him and ran at full speed down the narrow side street, and two minutes later he might have been seen standing at one of the little screened desks in the post office, writing the following message in Italian: " Valentino ill.; was hissed off stage to- night after Largo al factotum.' Get para- graph put in one of London papers. See it to -morrow, and telegraph promptly to M., offering your services." • Meantime Sardoni, far too much startled and shocked to pay the slightest attention to Gomez, rushed forward to his friend's help, flung the guitar out of the way, and raising Carlo's head, looked anxiously at his motionless features and pale lips, bit- terly reproaching himself with the absorp- tion in his own affairs which had made him blind to all else. Some sense of the con- trast between that still form and the noisy confusion in the theatre first reminded him that the curious audience were watching this unexpected scene in the opera with eager eyes; and that, although the hisses had changed,into a babel of question and surmise, Carlo was still exposed to every sort of ruthless criticism. "-Tell those idiots to let down the cur- tain," he said, impatiently, as Marioni came hurrying forward, with his pale face and his .bushy hair, looking more distraught than usual. The little conductor had flung down his baton and rushed from the • orchestra the instant Carlo had fallen, but he was too excitable to think, as Sar- • doni thought, of practical matters. And yet it was a relief to him to be told to do something; he rushed away to give the order, and the next minute the curtain de- scended, veiling from • the audience the crowd of actors and attendants which had gathered around poor Figaro. Mr. Britton, who had been admitted at the stage door, was just in time to see Carlo borne into the greenroom'and to 'follow with those who came after; he had heard so much of theatrical jealousies and quarrels and had formed so low an opinion of theatrical peo- ple, that he was surprised to see the real sympathy and concern shown by every creature present. "He has been ill this lonebtime," said old Bauer; "but he he had too much spirit -to give in. Poor lad! those brutes ought to have seen how it was with him." "Thought more of the bad bargain they had made than of the singer's feelings," ea' Taianini, with his Yankee twang. "We 'tis the way of the world." `" Are you the doctor'sir ? " stake& Domenica Borelli, noticingMr. Britton for the first time. "No, I am a friend of Signor Donati's," he replied, glad to get speech out of her, for he had noticed her quiet, womanly way of helping Sardoni and Merlino to do all that could be done for Carlo. "Shaul I go and fetch a doctor ? " "1 think it would be well," she began. "But, stay, he is coming to himself; per- haps there is no need, and I know he would dislike having one called in." . "It's something new for every one to be waiting on Valentino," said old Bauer. "A reversal of the usual order." " Yes," said Mademoiselle Duroc ; "he was the factotum of the troupe as well as of the opera. But, see, he is reviving." (To he enntinned.1 1 IlsFatnre Assured. Dr. Bumps, fa phrenologist)—This boy ma'am, will never die in State's prison, Mrs. Gimlet—I'm sure we ought to thankful kir that. Dr. Bumps—Yes, the bump of longevity is highly developed ; he will live to serve out his titne. A Cloomy View. 1 "The a e total coal output of this country exceeds million tons," remarked the 1 optimist. " Yes," replied thee i all goes up in smoke.„ p as rni st ; " 'At it The rolltietan•it Chance. BoggeTTA man asked me last night if I thought a politician could be a Christian. Foggs—What did you tell him? Boggs—I said he courd- if there were votes enough to be got out, of it to pay him. Mrs. Jefferson Davis has recently been elected Honorary Vice•President of the United States Daughters of 1812. Bread in it good state of preservation has been unearthed in Pompeii recently in the new roome ,uncovered by thg •phirers.