'THE tiERO OF THE TOWER.
Long time azo, when Austria was Jtmng,
Tber catrraa feerald to Vienna's gates,
Bidding the cHy dins them open wide
Upon a certain day: for then the king
Would enter, with his shining relic ne.
Fortrrwltittae buj streets were pleasore-patha;
And VhatVaich seemed bat now a field of toil,
With -weeds of turbulence and tricky greed,
Flashed rrr.o gardens bioomlnr f ull of flowers.
Beauty bkished deeper, now the rising son
Of royalty npon it was to shine;
Wealth cast its nets or tinsel and of gold
To cat eh the kingly eye; ami wisdom merged
Itpelf irto the terms of an address,
"Which the old mayor satp nights to learm
A needy poet wrou- theame for him).
No m&iden fluttered through the narrow streeta
Thatpondered not what ribbons she should wear;
No window on the long procession's route
"Bat had its tenants long engaged ahead.
"But the old sextrn of St. Joseph's canrca
" Moped dull and sulky through the smiling crowd,
A blot npon the city's pleasure-page.
What runs wrong-with you, uncle?" was the cry
"i on wdo nave Men me very youngest ooj
Of all the old men that the city had,
"Who loved processions more than perquisites,
'And rolled a gala day beneath yonr tongue
What rheumatism has turned that temper lame?
Speak up, and make your inward burden oars."
The old man slowly walked until he came
Unto the the market-place, then feebly stopped,
As if to talk; and a crowd gathered soon.
As men will when a man has things to say.
And thus he spoke: "For fifty years and mere
X have been sexton of St. Joseph's church.
CL Joseph would have fared ill but for me.
And though my friend the priest may smile at this
And wink at you an unbelieving eye,
My office shines in heaven as well as his.
Although it was not mine to make the church
odl7, 1 kept it clean, and that stands next.
If I have broke one circle of my sphere,
Let some one with straight finger trace it out. '
"And no crocesslon in these fifty Tears
Bis marched the streets with aught like klngl
tread,
But on the summit of St. Joseph's sp4re
I stood erect and waved a welcome-tlag.
With scanty resting-place beneath my feet.
And the wild breezes clutching at my -beard.
It took some nerve to stand so near to heaven
And fling abroad its colors. Try it, priest.
"But I am old; most ef y manhood's fire
Is choked in cold white ashes; and mv nerves
Tremble in every zephyr like the leaves.
What can I do? the flag must not be missed
From the cathedral' 1 summit. I've no son.
Or be should bear the banner, or my curse.
I have a daughter: she shall wave the flag!
And this is how my girl fhall wave the flag.
Ten suitors has she: and the valiant one
Who, strong of heart and will, can climb that perch,
adu ao wnat 1 so many time nave aone,
Shall shake her hand from mine at his descent.
Speak np, Vienna lads! and recollect
How much of loveliness faint heart e'er wen."
Then there was a clamor in the callow breasts
Of the Vienna youth; for she was far
The sweetest blossom ef that city's vines.
Many a yonnester's eye climbed furtively
Where the frail spire-tip trembled in the breeze,
Then wandered to th cot wherein she dwelt,
But none spoke ud. tilt Gabriel l-'etersheim.
Whose ear this proclamation strange had reached,
--uie ruBu.up luronga tne crowa, ana ojiaiy saia:
"I am your daughter's suitor, -and the one
Che truly loves; hot i-carce can gain a smile
Until I win her father's heart as well;
And you, old man, have frowned on me, and said
I was too young, too frivolous, too wild.
And had not manhood worthy of her hand.
Mark me to-morrow as I mount yon spire.
And mention, when I bring the flair to you,
Whether twas ever waved move gloriously."
And thus the old man answered: Climb your
way:
And if a senseful breeze should trash -you off.
And break that raw and somewhat worthless neck,
I can not greatly mourn; but climb yonr way,
And you shall have the girl if you succeed. "
High on the giddy pinnacle next day
Waited the youth: but not till eveninir's sun
Marched from the western erates, that tardy kin;
Bode past the church. And though young Gabriel's
nerves
Were weakened by fatigue aad want of food,
He pleased the people's and the monarch's eye,
.3 flashed a deeper thrt'J of love through one
Who turned her sweet face often up to him.
And whose true heart stood with him on the tower.
Now. when the kingly pageant all bad passed,
He folded np the flag, andwith proud smiles
And prouder heart nrepared him to deseend.
But the small trap-door through which he had
crept
Had by some rival's hand been barred! and he.
With but a hand-breadth's space where he might
cung
Was left alone to live there, or to die.
Gnssing the truth, or shadow of the troth.
He smiled at first, and said: "Well, let them voice
1 neir jealousy by such a paltry trick!
They laughed an hour; my laugh will longer bel
Their joke will soon be dead, and I released."
But an honr, and two others, slowly came,
And then he murmured: "This is ne boy's sport;
It is a silent signal, which means Deathl'"
He shouted, but no answer came to him,
Not even an echo, on that lofty perch.
He waved his hands in mute entreaty, bat
The darkness crept between him and his friends.
A half-hour seemed an age, and still he clug.
He looked down at the myriad city lights,
Twinkling like stars upon a lowlier sky.
And prayed: "Oh, blessed city of my oirth.
In which full many I love, and one o'er-well.
Or 1 should not be feebly clinging here.
Is there not 'mongst those thousands one kind
neart
To help me? or must 1 come back to yon
Crashing my way hrough grim, unMmely death?"
Rich sounds of mirth came faintly but no help.
Another hour went by, and still he clung.
He braced himself against the rising breeze.
And wrapped the flag around his shivering font,
And thus he prayed unto the merry winds :
H)h, breeze, you bear no tales of truer love
Than 1 can give you at this lonely height I
Tell but my danger to the heart I serve,
And she will never rest till I am free 1"
The winds pressed hard against him as he elnn.
And well. nigh x wrenched him from that scanty
Bat made io. answer to the piteous plea.
Hour after hoar went by, and still he held
Weak, dizzy, reeling to his narrow perch.
, It was a clear and queenly summer night ;
And every star -seemed hanging from the sky,
As f 'twere bending down to look at him.
And thus he prayed to the far-shining st irs:
- K)h, million worlds,, peopled perhaps like tils,
. Can you not see mc, clinging helpless here?
. Can you not flash a message to some eye,
. Or throw your influence on some friendly brain
To rescue me T" A million sweet-eyed stars
. Gave smiles to the beseecher, but no help.
And ha th A In my ttrrwvaafrtn t tli. nlK
Marched slowly "by, and each scarce hour was
By the great clock beneath; and still he clun
UntOf the frail preserver of his life, "
And held, not for his life, but for iiis love
'. Hitlfi nihil th ri l.fnl h-owon ..V, ...I vt
.Held while the chills of midnight crept through
While Hope and Fear made Jura their battle
And ravaged fiercely through his heart and brain.
He moaned, he wept, he prayed again; he
prayed
.Grown desperate and half raving In his woe
To every thiag in earth, or air, or sky;
"Tn tha fair atrpptn imv trill mH ail.ni mnn. .
To the cold .roofs, now stretched twixt him and
To the dumbistant hills that heedless slept ;
To the white clouds that slowly fluttered past;
-To his lost mother in the sky above ;
And then he prated to God.
Abont that time
The maiden drearod she saw her lover, faint.
Clinging for life; and with a scream uprose.
And rushed to the old sexton's yielding door.
Granting so peace toijm until lie ran
'So find tbeiruth, and five the boy release.
An hour ere eunrise heitjame feebly down,
Grasping the flag, and claiajng his fair prize.
But what a wreck, to win a booming girl I
His cheeks were wrinkled, ana of yellow hue,
His eyes were sunken, and his eurling hair
Glanid jrhi&s & snr fcpon the distant Alps.
Brft the votint maiden clashed his weary head
In her white arms, -and soothed him like a child ;
And said, ioa lived a life or woe ror me
Up on the spire,ad now look old enough
Even to please my father ; but soon I
W ill nurse yen 'ack into your youta again."
And soon the tower bolls sang his wedding
eon ir.
The old-young man was happy ; and they both.
cneerea Dy cne weu-earnea Dountr or me King,
lived many -years within Vienna's gates.
-Will Carleton, in Harper' Magazine,
PAYING HEK, DEBT.
It wts a Tery poorly furnished Toom in
a cottege home ; a small cottage, one of
many, all small, mean and scantily fur
nished, and the "hands" lived there.
This- one was Morgan's cottage, end it
was Jack Morgan himself and his sister,
Madge, who were seated at breakfast,
lingering as was possible only on Sunday
morning.
She was a tall, well-formed, strikingly
handsome girl of nineteen, as she sat fac
ing her brother, who was some five years
older; and upon her face was an eager.
troubled look, while he was sullen and
cowncast.
Young a9 they were thev'had seen bet
ter days; been well educated up to three
years previous to that June morning, and
then been thrown suddenly upon their
own resources.
Jack fought his way, sullen and re
sentful, making few friends, and seeking
none.
Madge was the braver of the two,
meeting their reverses with quiet cour
age, and brinsrins enersv. trust, and
cheerfulness to the mean cottage home
Just one week has elapsed since an aunt
from whom they had never, hoped for
aid, had left them each a hundred
pounds, and Jack had resolved to try
his fortune in Canada, "while Madge put
hers aside for a rainy day.
'Til stay here until you are sore of
success, Jack," she said, when he crged
her to join him, and keep a home for
you in case that yon should need one."
"Do you call this hole a home?" he
asked, bitterly, and she only smiled and
answered :
"A shelter, then.1'
But she was not smiling when nshe sat
at the Sunday breakfast, eating little,
brooding sadly, until suddenly she
cried
"Jack, we must do -something. Think
what we owe Tom Km?."
"Owe him! I believe we have" paid
him every farthing," said Jack,-sharply.
"We have paid ium the money,
know ; but we can never pay him what
we owe him stilL"
"Bah! Don't be bo sentimental,
Madsre."
" Common gratitude is not sentiment
alone, Jack. Jack,"he repeated, "can
you forget who came to us in that sore
need, paid doctor and butcher, and then
buried our mother beside father in the
cemetery?"
" And do you forget," her brother re
plied, almost angrily, " how we worked
and starved and perished, until every
shilling of the money was in Tom King's
pocket again?"
" I know ! I knowl But think how
he helped you and me to jret our situa
tion in the mills, and how . delicately, he
made the loans of money. And aow,
oh, Jack, I must do something 1"
" What can you dot It Tom King
chose to lose his money :in speculating,
how are vou responsible?"
"Iam not, but, Jack, there is Aunt
Kate's money."
" All you have in the world."
"No," she answered, "I have my
wages."
"A noble fortune! Dont be a fool
Madge."
But Madge was a fool in the sense he
meant. All through the morning, while
she dressed in her quiet mourning for
church, even through tbe service there
she was thinking of what she owed Tom
King.
When her mother, crushed by the
death of her husbanl, unable to meet
the change from comfort to poverty,
sank down prostrated :when Jack, unable
to get work, was cursing fortune, Tom
King came, as their father's friend, and
kept them from starvation. Madge's
heart glowed as she remembered how
thoughtful he was about sparing her
trouble in every way.
lie was more than double her age,and
a grave, reserved man, whom 6he re
garded with the affectionate respect she
would have given her father, but with
that same reverence she loved him deep
ly. And when the whole town knew
that Tom King lay in the Newtown hos
pita!, sick and penniless, the whole noble
grateful heart of Madge Morgan went out
to him.
Many stories - reached her. lie had
made .a fortuno and lost it; he had in
vested in mines, and the mines had
failed and ruined him; he had been en
gaged, according to the Newtown gos
sips, in dozen different speculations,
winning vast sums only to lose them,
uut one broad, indisputable fact re
mained, if all the rest were false; he
was lying in the hospital sick from the
excitement that had put the last stroke
upon his ill-luck.
Dinner over, Madge put on her bon
net again.
"I'm going over to the hospital, Jack, "
sne said.
Only a grunt answered her, but she
would not be pt off by Jack's sour
looks, and went on her errand.
' Here, upon a low iron cot-bed, pale
and emaciated, but evidently on the road
to recovery, Tom King lay when Madge
juorgan came up to the ward with
nurse, her face so grave and tender that
the strong will and patient endurance
of its usual expression were lost in the
pure womanly sympathy that rested
there.
"My friend!" she said, takins the
wasted hand extended to her. and" Tom
King wondered if ever two words held
to much as those two.
"Why, Madge," he said presently
"dp not feel so badly, I'm gaining every
day. The doctor says he will have me
on my feet in a week, and I'm going
abroad again." "
Again I When you have been 10 un
fortunate there."
"Eh?. Oh, I see?" with an odd look
in his eyes; "you've beea reading the
Newtown Star. Unlucky, wasn't I?"
"Yes. But, Tom I came to tell you
" the words came slowly "that I have
some money that that is of no use to
me. If it will start you again, I "
"You want me to take it?"
"You can borrow it,T' anxious not to
hurt his pride, "and some day when you
are rich you can return it."
"res! I seel Have you got it with
vou?"
"I thought I would bring it with
me,1' she said, her face flushed with
pleasure, "and here it is."
He opened the white envelope and
took it out, one note, just as the lawyer
Lad sent it to her. Tom King laid it
on the broad palm of his hand and
stroked it tenderly.
"All your wealth, Madge V1 he asked.
"Not while' I have these," and she
held up her hands. "I am so glad
though, that I have it."
He lay very quiet, looking steadily at
the note for some minutes; then he be
gan to speak, his eyes still fixed on the
money, his voice steady put monotonous,
as if he was reading a story there :
"When I went away nearly three years
agr'hesaid, "I went to see if I could
not shake myself fre" from a dream I had.
I dreamed that T could win the love of a
child, a mere slip f a child, who was
forced into premature womanhood by
trouble. She was utterly unconscious of
my love, but I knew I could not hide it
if I stayed beside her. Out of her sight,
far from the sound of her voice, the
dream, instead of fading,became clearer,
more vivid.. Day and night I dreamed,
but I worked as well. I put what
money I had into investments that prom
ised well but there, 'I will not speak of
that. Frovidenoe -was merciful. I am
alive, at last," he paused there, but a
low, sweet voice tooK up the story.
"And the dream will become reality,"
the voice said. 'The child-woman did
not read her own-heait, nor understand
why nothing in her life met or filled the
longing there. Not until sharp sorrow
came, and she heard of him she loved
lying ill and in poverty and pain, did she
understand that he took all the love she
could ever know away with him.
"And now, Madge?"
"It shall be as you say. I love you. I
am young and strong, and I think I can
be a help and not a burden to you."
"Will you be my wife, Madge?"
"Whenever you will."
"Madge, did you think, my dear, that
I was ruined? I am a rich man, Madge,
but I mean to keep this," and his hand
closed over the note. "You shall inever
have it again, Madge."
"I am content," she answered.
And even J ark was satisfied; some
thing of his sullen temper being lost
when he once more: found himself on the
road to prosperity.
Diet of the Honkey.
Dr. Allison, a London physician, has
been making experiments on a monkey.
He says: "Some time ago I bought a
rhesis monkey, intending to study his
habits. He is about eighteen inches
high, and tame. I ieed him with the
same food I take myself. He likes fruits
best of all ; raw grains and cooked vege
tables and potatoes next. He prefers
his potatoes without salt and his rice
without sugar. Peaa and beans he will
not eat unless very hungry. He always
eats with his hands the same as the
Turks, and, as he does not wash them
beforehand, he swallows much dirt.
When I give him hot food he has to
wait until it C00I3 before he can eat it,
or before he dare thrust his hands into
it. I tried his plan a few times with my
porridge and stews, and had to wait
before I dare finger them. I, thought
that if mankind were forced, like my
monkey, to eat with their fingers, that
we should not damage our teeth and
stomachs with hot foods, nor should we
indulge in soups. Soups are very good
for exhausted people, but not so good
for persons in health, as they are not as
easily digested asmore solid articles; in
fact, the superfluous fluid they contain
must be absorbed before digestion goes
on. Every food I offered him was first
of. all smelt of, and then, if the smell
was agreeable, he ate it: if otherwise,. he
threw it down. If mankind would always
be guided by the sense of smell we should
eat les3 rotten cheesehigh game, etc.,
than we do, and consume more delicious
fruits, whose aroma naturally attracts U3.
lie is a nose breather, and I never saw
him breath once through his mouth
another good example which mankind
might follow with benefit, as we natur
ally are nose -breathers." Herald or
Health.
A Queer Epitaph.
There is an epitaph 0 an eccentric char
acter that may be seen on a tombstone at
the burvinsr grounds near Hoosick Falls,
N. Y. 'It reads:
"Ruth Spraguc, Daughter of Gibson and
Elizabeth fciprague. Died June 11, 1S46, aged
9 years, 4 months and 3 days.
"She was stolen from the grave by Roder
ick R. Clow, dissected at Dr. P. M. Ann
strong's office, in Hoosick, N. Y., from which
place her mutilated remains were obtainad
and deposited here.
"Her body dissected by fiendish man
Her bones anatomized.
Her soul, we trust, has risen to God,
Where few physicians rise."
The American Flag.
The length to width is as three to two;
number of stripes thirteen, representing
the thirteen original Colonies or States.
There are seven red and six white stripes.
The field is square, covering seven stripe
or four red stripes and three white ones.
There should be thirty-eight stars one
for each State. The size and arrange
ment of stars is a mere matter of taste.
TiMELY TOPICS,
i5octor Carlos Faremba, of Mexico,
has addressed a circular letter to all
representatives of foreign governments
now in .Washington, advocating the
celebration of the discovery of America
on its 400th anniversary, October 12,
1892, and the erection of a monument
on the spot where the first landing was
made.
The Massachusetts bureau of statistics
states that in 1868 the chance of a per
son being killed on or by steam cars was
one in 5,020,281, while in 1882 it had
diminished to one in 20,927,034. This
is less than the chance of being struck
by lightning, and much less than that
of being injured by a kerosene lamp ex
plosion. Step by step the leading food pro
ducts of Europe are being reproduced in
this country. . Macaroni is made by
Italians in New York, Neuchatel cheese
by Swiss in New Jersey, Schweizer
kase by Germans in Ohio, Albert biscuit
by Englishmen in Albany, and caviare
by Russians in Harlem. Nearly all of
these are exported to Europe, and there
told as domestic manufactures.
In discussing the question of irriga
tion in California, the San Francisco
papers sound the alarm that the system
is being overdone especially in grape
and fruit raising. Copious moisture in a
warm climate promotes rapid growth,
yet it does not permit trees and plants
to mature. The wood is consequently
soft and sappy, and the fruit watery and
Insipid. This accounts, in part at least,
for the flavorless fruits and. vegetables
often shipped from California. The
forcing process may seem to insure tem
porary profits, but may ultimately work
more harm than good in the fruit itself.
Last year the government distributed
8,622,738 packages of seeds, of which
2,912,730 were given to Congressmen.
The seed distrubution is the most pop
ular of the perquisites of members of
Congress. It began in a small way, but
now $100,000 are appropriated for the
purpose, and 1C0 women and fifty men
are employed by the department of agri
culture in putting up the seeds, which
are of all sorts, from field-corn and potatoes
to the rarest flowers. Peas, beans, corn
and potatoes are put up in qucrt sacks
and the flower seeds in tiny envelopes.
The list includes over fifty kinds, while
of vegetables there are 128 varieties and
of flowers 131.
The Chinamen on the Pacific coast are
rery careful to return to China the bodies
of all their deceased countrymen. A
Western paper says: "When a tomb is
opened the resurrectionist scratches
iround in the dust until he has secured
every part of the dried skeleton, and
these are carefully sacked up in clean
white sacks, about two feet in length,
and labeled for the Flowery Kingdom.
The cost of collecting, permit and trans
portation to San Francisco is $ 15 per
skeleton, and across the ocean the
charges are $30 per ton. No one is
missed; not a Celestial is so poor but his
bones are transported to the land he left
.in the years before."
It has been suggested that Bartholdi's
statue of Liberty could be made useful
as well as ornamental by putting in the
torch an electric apparatus for projecting
an intense cylindrical beam of light
against the overhanging clouds, which
would show the location of New York
to vessels far out at sea. The apparatus,
It is said, would not cost more than three
thousand dollars, and it is believed that
the beam of light would produce a cloud
illumination which would be visible
from vessels at least sixty miles offshore.
The light which it is proposed to put in
the torch will be visible at a distance of
about forty miles under favorable condi
tions, or from a little over twenty miles
outside of Sandy Hook, and will be of
very little practical use to navigators.
"This country should be made too hot
for the despicable Italian padroni," de
clares a Philadelphia paper. "Years
ago they began purchasing little children
in Italy, who were brought here and
made to slave in the streets of the great
cities as musicians and bootblacks for
the sole benefit of their remorseless own
ers. But the children learned English,
became Amcrcanized and rebelled. This
forced the padroni to turn their attention
to another field of oppression and money
getting. They, therefore, imported
gangs of ignorant Italian peasants, and
for some time have hired them out as
railroad laborers, exacting the greater
part of their earnings from them and
treating them in the most shameful man
ner. Fortunately, the padroni system
of slavery has been completely exposed.
It should now be totally eradicated."
According to the returns prepared by
the French miaistry of agriculture, the
law which has been passed within the
last two years with regard to the destruc
tion of wolves, has had the effect of in
creasing the vigilance of the officials ap
pointed for that purpose, as well as of
private indvidvals. A sum of $40 is now
paid for every wolf which has attacked
a human being, and nine were killed last
year in three of the central departments
of France. A reward of $30 is given for
every she-wolf with young, and thirty
two of them were killed last year. A
sum of $20 is given for every other wolf
killed, and 774 were killed, this being
exclusive of 493 cubs for each of which a
reward of $8 is given. Altogether, 1,308
were destroyed last year, at a cost to the
government of $20,750 in fees alone.
The - greatest number of wolves were
killed in the northern and eastern de
partments bordering upon Belgium and
Germany.
Apropos of the suicide mania, a Lenlsv
ville, Ky., gentleman calls attention to
the fact that negroes hardly ever take
their own lives. Although a great many
of them are hard up from the day ot
their birth to the day of their
death, they seldom become melan
choly, and it is only among courtesans
that" suicides occur. Notwithstanding;
their complaints of hard times, the gim'
me-a-nickle expression on their counte
nances and a generally hungry appear
ance, they hang on to life with the te
nacity of a mud-turtle. They are not
prompted to do so through hope of being
struck by political lightning or of a rich
relative dying, but hang on simply fo
the fun they will have. The higher we
advance in civilization the less we seen
to value our opportunities for fun, and
give our mind wholly to serious and
mighty matters. As the jovial and con
vivial elements of our nature die out they
are replaced by melancholy and ennui
the tendencies of which are to death. .
According to the New York HeraVt
this is the "blue-mist year." The vapor
that early in the day obscures the view-
across the valleys, ordinarily gray, is now
distinctly blue in color; and the air has a-
quality in virtue of which it gives to ob
jects comparatively near by the azure hue
ordinarily noticed as the effect of distance
At one time there was an opinion that
this atmospheric phenomenon went with-.
the cholera, as it was several times ob
served in cholera years ; but the sounder
opinion is that it is only an evidence that
the atmosphere is charged to an unusual
degree with vegetable spores. In such a
year the cholera, if started, would be
more likely to spread than in another
year, but the condition has no necessary
relation to the presence of that malady.
But diseases dependent in any degree
upon atmospheric causes are worse inx
such a year; wherefore this may aggra
vate our ordinary maladies and give rise
to exaggerated reports of epidemics here
and there, against all which reports the
public should be upon its guard and.
keep its head level. -vy
An interesting series of maps showing:
the cholera routes in the different epi
demics begining in 1817 is printed in
the' Chicago Tribune. The epidemic of
1817 did not reach this country, but
beginning near Calcutta it traveled
about the Eastern hemisphere for six
years, disappearing in 1823. The epi
demic of 1826 started in India, and even
tually reached this country, appearing al
most simultaneously in New York and
Quebec; followed the water routes
westward to Buffalo, Detroit and Chica
go; went down the Mississippi, and dld
not disappear until 1832. The epidemic
of 1842 reached this country by New Or
leans, and did not disappear until 1849.
The epidemics of 1865 and 1871 were-
of shorter duration. Both reached this
country, the former appearing in New
York and the latter- in New Orleans.
There has seldom been a visitation of
cholera in any city that did not leave a
large number of victims. Many citizens -do
not record the deaths, and statements-
of the number cannot be made. Doc
tor John C. Peters, of New York, make
this statement: In 1832 there were 2,96ft
deaths from cholera in New York, 38
in Albany and 6,000 in New Orleans.
In 1849 678 persons died of cholera ia
Chicago, 953 in St. Louis. 1,400 in Cin
cinnati. In 1866 1,200 died in New
York, 990 in Chicago, 8,500 in St. Louis, .
1,100 in Cincinnati, 600 in Nashville.
These figures are small, however, when .
compared with the ravages of the dis
ease in India. In Calcutta, during one -season
of cholera, the lowest number of '
death per day was 2,501, and the high
est number 6,417. "War has never made
such havoc as this frightful scourge.
Speech by Sight.
Not long since the Mirror recorded
experiences in what it entitled " Lip -Beading"
which in a more complicated
luriu appears 10 nave Deen a SUDject ot
special culture. The little town of Mys
tic, in Eastern Connecticut, has a school
where the dumb are taught to speak
from the motion of the vocal organs,
founded on a combination of signs
formed from the position of the lips,
teeth, tongue and palate as they are cm
ployed in speaking. The system is
methodically taught.
It may amuse the reader who is inter
ested in elocution and elocutionary meth
ods to know that the general shapes of
the organs above named are the principal
basis of the teaching. The vowel.,
sounds, for instanee, are all represented
by a front view of the lips the sound .
of c, as in eel or me, is represented by a
straight line for the upper-lip, and a.
slightly curved line joining the straight
line at both ends for the lower. If you
look at your own lips in a glass and .
pronounce any word that has a long e,
you will see that they assume this posi
tion, and so on, changeably, through the
whole gamut of vowels. It should be
understood that it is the principle ma
tured and enlarged that furnishes a vo
cabulary' for the deaf and dumb. It may
be considered with profit by actors,
teachers of elocution, lawyers, preachers
and others of the oratorical brotherhood, v
New York Mirror. '
Ye arning for the Unattainable.
One who will recognize me when I am
compelled to wear patched breeches;
who will take my hand when I am sliding:
down hill instead of giving me a kick to
hasten my descent; who will lean me a
worth of security ; who will come to see
me when I am sick; who will pull off
his coat and fight for me when the odds
are two to one; who will talk of me be
hind my back as he talks to my face.
Such a friend is wanted by ten thousand
human beings throughout this broad
earth. San Francisco Post.
Newspaper men in Louisiana have to
pay a $5 license.