THE LOVER S REASONING.
T!l why I Io beiT Tell m why,
Tnrnmjt from murky tuwn and pushing
men,
Tutt lore the woodland path, tie placid sky.
I'll answer turn.
"Why do I lov bw? Analyze
Where in the yiok-ta thf perfume in,
Wher in the mnwc'i strain th tears arise
Can you do this?
Tell why I lore her? Yea. when yon
Hf-Trul the secret which id snowdrop lie;
Or strain the beauty from the drop of dew.
Then I'll tell why.
"Why do I loTe her? First make clear.
Whence steals through minister aisles the
restlnl spell
"That fills with mystic sense the atmosphere.
I theu will tell.
Tea, lore, 1 turn to thee from glare and
crowd.
Tender as dnles in Spring, as Summer's
clond;
Southing a gentlest song, soft as perfume.
Purer than beads of dew, or snowdrop's
bloom.
I in thy pretence rest, where tumults cease:
The minuter gate is cloned, within is peace.
Temple Bar.
I FOUND THE WILL
BOCT twenty
years ago there
died in south
ern Ohio a queer
old character
named Thom
as Martin. He
was never mar
ried, and hisec
c e n tricities
made his name
a familiar one
In several counties. Be lived in a lit.
tie log house on a farm about lour
xilee irom a village, and sometimes
:e was alone for months, and again
would have his house crowded
j'.h his relatives. While father and
mother were dead, he had three
brothers and four sisters living, and
in the same county. One day tie
might meet one of them and hand
him a 20 gold piece. Thevery next
day he would pass tlie same person
without speaking. As he was worth
about $200,000, all made by the sale
of oil wells found on his lands in
Pennsylvania, and as his relatives
were all poor, none of them dared
oflend him . If he treated them cold
ly they put up with it; if he insisted
on some family staying with him for
a week they made every sacrifice to
please hint
There was a layer of humor in the
old man's composition withal. I
think he reasoned that all his rela.
tives expected a slice of his wealth,
and he intend ed that each one should
have it, but he proposed to make
them earn it its far as they could.
If he knew that his brother James
was planting corn, and in a great
hurry to get through, he would send
for him and insist that he hunt or
fish or go looking over the country
for some plant or root needed for
sickness. If his brother Henry was
extra busy in his sawmill; the old
man was sure to send up a message
to him to come down and take witch
hazel rod and go wandering over
the hills to locate metals. There
was only one bed in the house, and
yet the old man would insist that a
family of eight come and visit him
and sleep where they could. Twice
a year he killed a lamb. The rest of
the time he lived on pudding and
milk and vegetables. ,
Uncle Torn, as everybody called
him, was over 70 years of age when I
first knew him, and it must have
seemed to his relatives that he in
tended to be a hundred. As the
years went by he really seemed to im-
Erove, and it was a cold day when
e couldn't think of some new trick
to play on those who anxiously
waited lor him to turn up his toes.
He made a will, as known in a certain
law office, dividing up his wealth pro
rata, hut one day something occur
ed t determine him to revolve it.
He had sent for his brother Henry and
family to come to him at once. Henry
was sawing lumber od a contract, one
of the children was ailing, and he re
turned word that he could not come.
This was the first time he had ever
refused such a demand, and when
the messenger returned the old man
boiled over with indignation.
He tent for his lawyer to come
and make a new will, and the lawyer,
of course, brought the old one. He
saw this laid on the clock shelf, and
it was lying there when he went away.
The new will was not entirely com
pleted that day. Martin said he
might want to make some other
changes, and so he did. His sister
May, who was an old maid, was with
him that day, and after the lawyer
had gone Martin wanted to lower
her down in the well to recover a lost
bucket. She was timid and afraid,
and the result was that she was ord
ered to pack up and leave, and was
told plainly that she need not expect
a do w.
Nor was this all. Haying got his
hand in, as it were, the old man went
tor another brother, and forced a
rupture, and then sent for a lawyer
and cwt tbe three persons off with a
legacy ot flOp each. He signed the
new will and placed it with the other,
saying be wonld keep both for a few
dzjrs and see if anything else turned
2
Then I
i in otder to stow hit on-
tntfkx his reiatires, he sent for a
vtwui naassd Thatcher to kssp
IxzmtarlSm. Thiswona was a
Twttw,, abort 40 ysan eld,
and was looked upon as half crazy
and the other half foolish. She was
employed in the village at laundry
work. Martin bought her clothes
and jewelry, and even gave out that
he would marry her, and he was
heard to say more than once that
not one of his relatives would ever
get a dollar of his money:
One night two months after the
Thatcher woman went to live with
him, he got a bad fall while bringing
in wood. He had to be helped to
bed, but only a portion of what fol
lowed was known lor many months
afterward. The ola man felt that
his last hour had come, and he got
rid of her for a few minutes by send
ing her out to the barn. Which will
he meant to burn no one will ever
know, but he got up and
burned one of them. Both
were dub- sealed and attested, and
both were equally good in law,
That he did burn one of them was
sure. Thirty hours later someone
happened to visit the cabin and the
old man was found dead in his bed,
the woman had disappeared and the
wills were missing. With all that
money at stake there was great
excitement, of course, and the re
latives gave me the case to work up.
No one knew, until I overhauled the
ashes in the lire place, that anything
had been burned. I found scraps of
paper, proving that at least one
of the wills had been destroyed. So
far as I could tell, both might have
lieen burned at the same time. One
had been, anyhow, and the question
of which it was interested every rel
ative. It seemed curious why Mrs. Tacher
had gone away, and still more curi
ous that she had escaped observation.
As no one had met her in the village
or on the high-way, it must be con
cluded that she had reasons for
hiding. If one of the walls had been
preserved, she probably knew of its
whereabouts, as the old cabin had
been hunted over and over again
without bringing it to light. My
first step, therefore, was to discover
her; but when a fairly sharp man
puts himself against a half idiot he
may be beaten. 1 made a circuit for
thirty miles around on horse back,
and, while I met a hundred people
who knew the woman by sight, I
could get no late trace of her. A
robber could not have hidden his
trail more successfully. When I
found that the hunt was to be ex
tended, I notified every sheriffinthat
part of the state. I got out circulars
and sent them to town marshals,
constables, postmasters, and farm
ers but no good resulted.
Then, one day, I sat down to put
myself in her place. For all I knew
then she was with the old man when
he died, and it might have been one
of her hands which held one of the
wills to the flame. Just why she
should fly and hide herself when not
guilty of anything was a puzzle. So
far as we could determine she had
taken nothing. One day Martin had
gone with her tothe bank and drawn
out and presented to her the sum of
f 200. This she had taken, as was
her right, but the few dollars he
had in his pockets were there when
we searched the dead body, I had
not thought to overhaul her ward
robe, but when I came to do so I
got a pointer. She had dressed her
self in her best and gone without
taking even a hand satchel. Her
best was a black silk, a fine red shawl,
a fashionable bonnet, and fine shoes.
She would not only look very much
like a lady, but she would not set out
for a walk across the wet fields or
along the muddy highway. She
would take the trainat the nearest
point, of course, and that happened to
be at a station not over thirty rods
from the old man's cabin and on his
land. Freight and accommodation
trains stopped there always for
water, and the regular passenger
trains sometimes. For instance, the
express lor Cincinnati would not stop
at the village, but would at this
county station to get a supply of
water for the engine.
As soon as I struck this trail I was
only a few daysjn ascertaining that
Mrs. Thatcher, dressed in her best,
did actually board the express that
night as it stopped for a moment,
and that she paid her fare and was
carried to Cincinnati She had four
weeks the start of me, but I had
strong hopes of finding her. J
reasoned that the fact of her being
simple-minded, and of never hav
ing travelled much, would' make her
keep clear of the hotels Sh doubt
less, feared she would be blamed for
the old man's death, and a search
made for her. In that case she would
hide herself. I had my mind made
up when I reached Cincinnati to look
for her among the boarding houses,
and look F did. After a vain search
of a week I got one of the regular
detectives, and in another week t
got track of her. In going into the
city she had entered into conversa
tion with a fellow passenger, and he
bad recommended her to a boarding
house kept by his aunt. They gave
her a room at the house, but soon
saw that she was queer. The situa
tion sharpened her wits, and she
claimed to be a Mrs. Rose, of Chi
cago, who had come to search out
relatives. As she never went out,
received po letters, and employed no
assistance her story was not be
lieved, and she was an object of
wonder to the other boarders. In
about three weeks she one day paid
her bill and walked off, but one ol the
boarders followed her to another
boarding honse. We hoped and ex
pected to find her there, but she had
changed again, and no one knew
where she was. It took as three days
.to locate her again, and this time we
were too late by an hoar only.
In making her second change Mrs.
Thatcher had gone to a boarding
house kept by a woman who had a
brother on a farm, ne supplied
with vegetables, and as he came fa.
one day Mrs. Thatcher saw him, and
at once decided to go out to . his
(arm. She arranged for her board,
bought herself a cheap dress or two,
and the pair had been gone about an
hour or two when weranjrthe bell.
The; detective Vas busy on another
case and decided that he could not
go with me. 1 therefore got a horse
and buggy and drove off alone. It
was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon
of a June day, and I was hardly clear
of the city when I noticed that a thun
der storm was coming up from the di
rection in which. I was headed. I
drove fast, hoping to make the ten
miles before I was caught, but when
seven miles from the city the storm
broke. The only shelter I could se
cure was an old wagon shed, but
while the thunder and lightning were
severe, but little rain fell.
In the half hour 1 was under the
shed the lightning struck near me
three times, and I was greatly re
lieved when the storm passed on. I
drove forward for about a mile, and
then suddenly came upon a curious
sight in the highway. A fanner's
wagon was smoking and burning,
while one horse lay stone dead and
the other was plunging about. On
one side of the wagon lay the body of
a woman, on theother side that of a
mar., Heaped out and secured my
horse, and the man was the first np
proached. His clothes were on fire
over his breast and his face was dis
colored. One glance satisfied me that
he was dead. The woman lay in a
heap, but I took hold of her band
there was a flutter of the eyelids. A
bolt of lightning had killed one of the
horses and the man, but the woman
had only leen stunned. My first
move was just what any physician
would have recommended. I tore
open the bosom of her dress and cut
her corset strings to give her lungs a
chance to play. As the knife parted
the strings and the corsets flew open
a paper was displayed. I reached or
it, and one look told me that it was
the last will and testament ol James
Martin.
Then the woman must be Mrs.
Thatcher, but I should never have
known her, dressed as she was. Site
came to while I was releasing the
plunging hore and putting out the
fire in the wngon. The accident had
come about as I supposed, and in
half an hour she was quite herself
again. I went to the nearest farmer,
got him to come back and assume
charge ol' things, and then drove
back to the city with my prisoner.
On the way in she fully explain
ed everj'thing to me. When
Martin found himself about to
die he told her to burn the old will.
In her nervousnossness, anil being
unable to read, she burned the wrong
one. When he discovered this he be
rated her in as forcible language ns
he could call up indeed, he fell back
and died while cursinz her. Fearing
that she had committed some awful
crime, and hoping that if she carried
the other document off with' her she
might escape the consequences, sho
dressed herself, took the paper and
her money, and walked over and
boarded the train.
Under the will I had recovered all
the relatives shared alike, which was
fair and justunderthecircumstances,
aud instead of making any trouble
for the grass widow, they present
ed her with a purse of $.100 and headed
her for Oregon, where she got a nother
husband in less than a month after
her arrival. New York Sun.
A Drawing-Room Homily.
Is it not too bad, says Bishop
Huntington, in a time when there if
so much lact to be learned, so much
work to be done and done better
than it is, so much wrong to le
righted, so many burdens wait to be
eased, so many noble enterprises to
beset forward, that ladies and gen
tlemen of faculty and information
should array themselves sumptuous
ly, and go to meet Bach other again
nnd again, and stay together for
hours, only to look at a spectacle
that is without significance and hear
sounds without sense; to see unreal
manners and hear commonplace
speech; to exchange greetings with
the dearest friends only on a crowded
staircase, as the two processions up
and down meet and pass, or in
"a crush" where the liveliest feeling
is a fear of damaging a fabric or be
ing mortified by a mistake; to eat
and drink what could be eaten and
drunk with far more comfort and
safer digestion at home; to say what
one only half feels to persons whom
one does not like on a subject that
onedoes not half understand; to pick
a way between frivolity and false
hood or wade through a muddy
mixture of both; to cover disgust
with a smile, inward protest with
pokea accent or weariness with a
jest, and then to go away at an un
healthy hour with nothing to re
member but a babble, a whirl, a jam,
and a secret self-contempt? "Horrid
bore, isn't it?" said one victim to
another. "Beastly," was the cordial
answer. "Let's go home!" 1 wish I
could, but you see I can't; 1 am the
host.
Forty tramps went about St.
Helena, Montana, the other day,
actually begging for employment.
They were put to work in a Tineyard
the same day, the story row. bat by
the next afternoon all excepting
three had disappeared from ths scene
of their brief aeavitass
A Maine girl put aotaand bar ad
dress in a box oftoothpioks, request
ing the finder to writs to her. A
Kansas City man got the box, opened
a correspondence, and not long ago
started East to see if the young lady
wss the sort or a woman be wanted
tor a wife.
Love and Lucre.
How would his brilliant wife liear
the news of his ruin? Malcolm Boyd
asked himself as he entered the door
of bis home. How would she bear
it she who had been accustomed to
every luxury, covered with jewels,
clothed like a queen? He repeated
the question over to himself w ith a
groan as he closed the street door
behind him. A light step and she
stood at his side in all her royal
beauty. Daintily clad, with shim
tiering diamonds on her breast nnd
erms.
The sight of the flashing stones
seemed to madden him. "Hear me,"
he cried. "When you offered to
marry me to save your father from
ruin, you honestly said that it was
for my wealth alone, and that you
could never love me. Am I right?"'
"l'es, but-"
"Well, you must know the worst.
We are beggars. You can return to
your father, if you will. I tried to win
your love, but I have failed. I will
not bind j'ou to an unloved, beg
gared husband. You are free free!"
And before the s artled girl could
recover her senses he had staggeied
from the room.
With only a vague idea why she
did so, May replaced her ruby velvet
with tlie plainest black silk in her
wardrobe, put away every trace of
the evening's prospective pleasure,
and then, as it her heart had only
just reached the solution of its mis
ery, she sank down in her chair with
a sobbing moan.
"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm? it was all
true, but it isn't now. I love you.
Oh, I do! I do!"
Trying to gain strength and see
what to do, she lay there until the
tiny gilded clock chimed 10, and
then she stood up.
In two hours she had undergone
many chances. Underneaih all her
love of gayety and coquettishness
lay a wonderful strength of charac
ter. She had married to save her
father, and tor two years had re
ceived the devotion quiet but never
ceasing of her husband without
thought of any changes that might
be going on in her own heart. Now
a shock had revealed it to her; and
feeling, with a wild thrill of joy that
he still loved her, her first thought
was: What could she do to prove
her love and help him to bear the
blow?
Even as she stood there wondering
where he had gone, and what she
would say when he returned, she
heard a movement in the roon be
lowhis library and then the street
door shut.
"Oh, ho is just going out. Ifo may
be desperate. I will follow him and
take back all the cruel words 1 said."
And snatching a long black clonk,
she flew down stairs and out of the
front door.
He was just going down the street
with a sort of fierce swiftness that
obliged her to almost run to keep
up. He glanced back once; but what
connection was there in his mind be
tween the creature in black nnd his
beautiful, velveted, dinmoned wife,
whom he now supposed enjoying the
opera regardless of him, save that
he was a beggar and of no further
use to her?
On he went, up, down and around,
ns if determined to walk until ex
haustion overcome him. And,
keeping him still in sight, tire
lessly she followed. "It was
in a narrow street that he at
last paused, and her heart almost
stood still at the sight before a
grogshop, which he entered. On a
run she reached the place, looked in,
and there he sat, in a little, ugly low
ceiling room, before a table, wi'th his
face in his hands. The next instant
she swung the door noiselessly open,
entered and sat down at the same
table.
No one else was in the room, but
his order was being prepared in the
roam beyond, where she heard voices.
She tried but could not speak; but,
as she pushed back the hood of her
clonk, Malcolm Boyd raised bis head
with an angry jerk and looked into
the pale lace of his wife.
"May! May!" he muttered, star
ing at her like a man bereft of his
reason. "May, is it you you here?"
"Yes, Malcolm; lam going toshnre
your trouble with you, and if you
take it so, why, I will, too," sbesaid,
trying to smile.
But excitement and fatigue master
ed her. The quivering smile turned
into great, sad tears; she slipped
right down on the dirty floor beside
her stupefied husband, put her arms
around him and sobbingly cried:
"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm! come
home! What you said to mo was all
true.. I did not love you but, I do.
Oh, I don't care how poor you are
we can get along some way. Don't
drink. Come home with me, and if
we love each other it will not bo so
hard."
"May! May!" he cried again, but
now she was in his arms.
In a delirium ot wild incredulous
ioy he clasped her to his heart, and
cissed her eyes, lips and hair.
"You love me!" be murmured.
"Oh, my darling, my darling, say it
again!"
"Yes, I love you I .love you," she
answered. "Only let me prove to
you how much. And will wego homo
now?"
"lies at once. Draw your hood
so. : Here, waiter here!" exclaimed
Malcolm; then, throwing down some
change to the boy who entered, "I
shall not want the drink: there's the
'""Then together they went out and
went home.
The world marvelled at them be
cause the v gave up everything and
seemed so happy in o doing. A
n od.t little homo in a quiet street
thev cozilv furnished with what was
left" to them: then, with a will
and fervor that would scon win
back much that he had lost Malcolm
Bovd resumed his iaw pr&cttw, and
May, with one servant, merrily took
up the cares of a house.
A Wonderful Spring.
From the Atlnnta Constitution.
Cured of intemierance in three
days!
How many people know that the
state of (leogia owns a natural ine
briate asylum?
And. nevertheless, such is the fact.
"It is the most wonderful spring in
the United olat.-s." said Special
Officer Broderick, of the Atlanta po
lice force, last night.
To what spring do you refer?
"Indian spring. 1 have taken three
men to that spring who were so far
gone on the lipuor habit that it look,
ed as if it were impossible for them
to quit, nnd every one of them were
cured immediately. Une ol tnem uati
been practically drunk for lour
months. 1 took along a supnly of
whisky, as people said it would kill
him to quit ofl too suddenly."
"Di.l he toper off."'
"He took one drink after he got to
Indian spring, and after that declin
ed to touch a drop. He said he did
not want it at all, He remained
there three days and you never saw
such a transformation. Ho was as
sober ns a imliro. his face was clear
ed of its bloat and the red liquor
look, anil lie was niniseii again.
Since that time he has lieen steadly
at work and has not touched a drop.
That was six months ago, long
enough to effectually settle the mut
ter." "Does it prove equally eflicacious
on others?"
I have tried throe cases, and with
the same happy resultsin every case.
I believe thntthat littlespring, which
does hold over a gallon of water, is
one of the im.st valuable in this
country, and worth all the hospitals
in tlie lane lor me cure oi melinites.
"Whv don't somebody Bhip the
water?''
"In the first place, the spring be
longs to the state of Georgia, and is
illHt iih t lie I ni linliH left if Icmir mrn
The state government has never per
muted nnynouy to lease is or at
tempt to enlarge the flow. The wa
ter is free fnr evi-rvltod v In flirt rw-
ond place, there is a volatile gas in
the water that escapes alter a few
hours, rendering it flat nnd robbing
tho water of its extraordinary qual
ities. For these reasons no attempt
has ever been nimle to cxnort it. and
people, are compelled togotoihespot
to enjoy lis benefits. Jit is" a wonder-
lul Hjinng in many other respects,
but it is king of all liquor habitcures
that I ever have seen."
A Dead National Song.
A gentleman who was in Paris
during the summer just past remarks
that one of the things which st ruck
him most forcibly and unpleasantly
was the singing of the "Marseillaise"
by ,1,0U0 frenchmen chosen from
the leading choral societies of the
city. J hey assembled m the 0en
air and lifted up their voices togeth.
er in the song which for the laxt
century has made every Frenchman's
heart thrill when it sound.id in his
ears.
And the soncrroHe nn tho niV Ln
tifully sjinjr, finished, and elegant,
uun uiufnjr iiu-Kiug nre. uioiu, when
it was forbidden to sinr tlm "f,
seillaise," a dozen men, roaring it
in mi obscuio enhm-pr. u,, i, I, i ;
flame the entire quartier, nnd in tho
ut ijf uuya oi uie revolution a single
voice would raise a neighborhood to
ueetis ot blood simply by singing the
inspiring words. Now it was with
out force. It was correct, but all en
thusiasm had died out of it.
And what is France." someone
asked, "when it in rw.uMil.u
the "Marseillaise" m her streets with
out raising tne paving stones?"
Boston Courier.
A Strange Case.
"An interesting cose, which will bo
a difficult matter for the
pened recently in the Red Cross hos
pital of Lyons," says the Tribune.
"A patient was placed under the in
fluence ol chloroform, in order to be
subjected to a most painful opera
tion. At the first incision, however,
the man, who was unusually stronc
became conscious. Crazy With mn,
he tore the knife Irom the operating
physicati and despite the presence
of several friends he plunged it In an
..; i ,,,,,rL801 J'roressor
.'MCont nnd n vnn . i
..:.. 1 J""" '"unwnowas
actmgnswitness. The double mur-
i r ? UH,iaken t..a torture r0'n and
jiecognmiig the fact that
no nareot ni,i i.. ... "I"'
oprat.on was sueessfully preformed
Without Its Him ll ,
,.n . , 7 ... ' ",, recover in
all niolinl.i ,v 'ri,- i , . . '
trial, which will take place in the
near future, lies in tho defense that he
committed the double crime in a tem-
POrarv Hfc nfln.onU. . . ."
ett.- i , , 3 uhi ny tne
P'"- The caw will form an
The Two Aged Lovers.
Engineer Dimmick, of the Chicago
express, said he had been in nervous
dread of an aecident from the mo
ment he pulled out of the Lake Shore
depot in Chicago. This bad made
him unusually careful, but as he
readied Sherman's crossing, a little
behind time, he began to lose his fear;
he opened the throttle of old 90, in
tending to gain a few minutes in the
remaining eight miles between there
and Toledo. He started to signal
the crossing, just this side of tbe
trees, when horror! he saw a farmer
driving furiously toward it, as
if to cross ahead of the train.
It was suicide! Dimmick sent
out a heart brueking signal to the
brakeman, reversed the engine, put
on air brakes, knowing all the time
the train could not be stopped this
side of the crossing, and then shut
his eyes and prayed.
When tho engine stopped a part of
the wagon was on tho headlight, the
horses wero distributed along the
track, and two old peoplo were lying
near the fence. Dimmick was the first
to reach them. They both breathed.
Was there n physician among the
passengers? Yes, two. A hurried
examination and consultation. The
mnn was undoubtedly fatally hurt;
the woman probably so, They were
tenderly carried to Mr. Richards'
house near by, and tho physicians
wero told that if they would stay until
tho local practitioner could be found
a locomotive would le sent back for
them in an hour. They agreed to
stay. The liell rang; travelers hur
ried to their places; some with white
faces at the thought that it might
have been themselves; others full of
the importance a participation in
the event would give thein nnd their
story, nnd others, forgetting them
selves, thinking only of the sorrow
brought to others. Mr. Richards
placed his houso nt tho command of
the physicians. Stimulants were ad
ministered, ami when the lamil v doc
tor and the children of the sufferers
had arrived, the father was moaning,
but tho mother had opened her eyes.
Later in the night, after hours of
faithful and incessant labor over
them, the mother spoke. "How is
father?" "Ho is still unconscious,
but is well taken care of. Here in
something for you; now don't worry;
don't think; just go to sleep
again." Her son spoke to her. I
must go to father." "You mustn't
think of it, mother. You nre very
badly hurt, yourself. You must be
very otiiet." "I must go to father;
he needs me." The physician looked
at her keenly, saying, in a low tone,
to the son, "I think we had ltetter
fix a place for her near him. She will
never be content otherwise." The
son coaxed and argued with her,
but it was of no avail. They moved
her bed lesido her husband 'h; she at
tempted to take his hand, but could
not. His ntertorious breathing
seemed to inako no impression upon
her. "Is father going to die," she
nsked. The weeping daughter nod
ded. "You must keep quiet for your
own sake, mother."" We've Lxt-n
married over forty-eight years,"
she said to the doctor, "but
we'vo known each other all
our lives." "You mustn't talk
er, mother." "We was raised
side by side, ho took care of mo
when wo went to school together; bo's
always took care of mo. Put me on
my side more, so's I can setf him bet
ter." "Mother you muststop think
ing and talking."
Sho paid no heed. "Seem's ir
'twan't but a little while ago since we
was married; but its over forty-eight
years. We wojj tnlkin' of our golden
weddin' this very week, lien!" The
uii put his hands on her lips to si
lence her, but tho dortor whispered:
"Better let her talk n little. "She's
beyond control." The grey-headed
husband seemed to hear her call; he
opened his eyes, breathed less noisily,
struggled wfth his voice and then
mnnaged to whisper, "Rachel."
"Here I am, Benjamin," nnd turning
her eyes to the daughter, "put
my hand in his." They laid
her poor wrinkled hand in his
hard, knotted fingers. "Is it morn
ing, Rachel?" "Oh, it ain't you
just lie still. Y'ou see," said she,
turning her eyes to tho others, "he
thinks its time to get up." "Rach
el!" In a very whisper came. "Yes,
Ben I'm rieht here beside you."
"Tell Jim to milk this morning."
"Yes, yes; that's all attended to.
Can you see me?" "It's very light,
wife, but 1 can't see you." Tho
doctor motioned to thechildien that
the end was near. "Put my face on
his. Susy; yes. I know he's going,
but it 'tain't for long; lift me over
to him. They lifted her face to his;
his eyes opened; hesmiled and pass
ed away. They carried the mother
back to her own pillow, and we were
glad to see her quietly go to sleep.
And in that sleep she crossed over
the river to her Ben. Toledo Blade.
An American amateur recently of
fered 1 12,000 to the municipality or
Genoa for tho violin of . Pnganini,
which is religiously preserved in th
city museum as a memento of Gen
oa's gifted son. The instrument was
made at Cremona by (iunrneri in
1700. The American's offer was do
clinod.
A London journal is very despond
ent on the prospects of professional
men In England. The rate of emolu
ment for the professional classes, it
ays, is steady going down. It is
nearly as difficult now for a member
of the professional classes to make
500 a year as it was for his father
to maks tlftQQ.
