BABY'S NAME.
Then father took the Bible down,
And in his clear old fashioned hand
Upon its Record pages brown
Ho wrote the name as it should stand.
But protest came from all the rest
At gi'in?such a little fairy
The dearest, sweetest and the best,
That antiquated name to carry.
And aunts and wecond cousius cry
"A name so worn and ordinary
Could not be found if one should try
As that same appellation 'Mary.' "
And o'er and o'er again they laud
Her yellow cur's, her baby grace,
"Oh, call her 'Kthelind,' or 'Maud,'
Or 'Christine,' for her angel face."
"But time will change this golden fleece
To match the eyes in dusky splendor;
Far bettor name her 'Beatrice,'
Or 'Imogen,' serene and tender."
"Oh, name the child for Aunt Louisa,
For she, good soul, is well-to-do,
'The compliment is sure to please her,
And we can call the darling 'Lou.' "
"Most prudent counsel, all too late!
Twist Malachi's and Matthew's pages
Appears, unchangeable as fate,
The name beloved of all the ages.
The Ancient gem, its purity
Unspoiled shall grace our latest beauty;
Sometime on dearer lips to be
The synonym of love and duty.
And gracious womanhood adorn,
However fort one's gift may vary,
Till on a day like Easter morn
She hears the Master call her "Mary.
Columbus Dispatch.
AJHDDEN HERO.
J. S. Winter, in Harper's Bazar.
Lord Archie Falconer was keeping
his hunters to the tune of a modest
couple out of barracks, and was on
his way to see them, when he chanced
to meet with Marcus Orford.
His way lay through a poor andfor-lorn-looking
district, laid out in small
and narrow streets of ugly little feat
ureless houses, built in rows to the
cultivation of nothing but a certain
air ot crushed and melancholy meek
neatness, and situated about midway
between the barracks and the town of
WarnecliSe. It was peopled chiefly
'by such of the Benedicks among the
rank and file of the Black Horse as
were not on the strength of the regi
ment. Marcus Orford was laughing as Lord
Archie approached him, and he felt
his own face expanding into a broad
smile instantly.
"What are you laughing at?" he de
manded. J'I found yesterday," the other an
swered, "that Arnitt was down with
a severe attack of congestion of the
lungs a very serious case, his wife
told me the doctor had pronounced it.
I sent him a basket of things down
this morning ice and grapes and jelly
and so oii, you know for, poor devil,
it must be hard lines to be ill in such a
hole as that" jerking his stick over
his shoulder to indicate a row of squal
id little houses behind him "and
Moore brought back word that he was
very bad as bad as he could be. So I
thought I'd come round and hear how
he is to-day. 'Tis a tidy little place,
but terribly bare and comfortless, and
"1 found half a dozen youngsters all
: 3quatting about the doorstep, and evi-
dently expecting every minute to hear
that the end had come. 'Hollo, my
man,' said I to the biggest boy, a lad
of 7 or 8, 'are you one of Arnitt's
boys?" 'Yes, sir, we're all his'n,' he
piped out. 'Oh, are you?' I said,
thinking Arnitt may well look as hun
gry as he generally does. 'And how is
your father this afternoon?' 'Very
bad, sir mortal bad as bad's he can
be,' the youngster piped out in reply.
'An' t he doctor says if father lives till
morning, there'll be some 'opes; but if
he don't live till morning, he won't
have no 'opes at all.' "
Lord Archie laughed outright, and
Marcus Orford continued: "But I
ion't believe Arnitt will live tillmorn
ing, poor chap; and if not, what his
wife will do with all those youngsters
is rather a hard question."
"Yes; decent fellow, Arnitt; I had
him with my horse3 for a time. Pity
he married without waiting for leave;
it's such a drag on a man, unless the
wife happens to have some business of
her own; and, Arnitt, poor beggar, is
so overridden with children, and his
wife's line of business not of much use
to her."
"'What was it?"
"Oh, she was a circus -rider, and a
ripping smart girl, too. I remember
seeing her the year I joined. She had
a pretty little face, and a pretty little
figure too, and a lot of light crinkling
fair hair that seemed to wave all over
her head in shining flecks of light; I
never saw such jolly hair."
"She's a pretty little woman now,"
Marcus Oxford remarked. "Well?"
"We were all more or less gone on
.her," Lord Archie continued. "The
ilittle favorite, we usedtocall her. Her
-circus name was Mademoiselle Favor
ita her own, God knows! However,
none of the fellows could make any
impression upon her whatever, not
the very smallest, and one afternoon,
about 6 o'clock, I met her going down
to the circus with Arnitt and then I
knew why. And, sure enough, very
shortly after that she and Arnitt got
married. If he'd put in for leave, and
waited till he got it, which he would
have done, they might have got on
very well, but he married her straight
-out ol hand, and there they have
stuck ever since. Arnitt ought to
ha.ve got on, for he's a gentleman a
'Varsity man, too; but he's been un
ilucky, unlucky all round."
"You don't mean it," Orford cried,
In huge surprise, "that he's a gentle
man and a 'Varsity man?"
"Oh, but I do, though an Oxford
man. I remember his face distinctly
as a man of Brazen ose when I was at
Paul's, but for the very life I couldn't
then, and have never been able since,
to put a name to it. And yet I al
most fancy and I think of it every
time I get a fair look at him that
I've seen the face with a tuft above
it."
"A tuft! you don't mean it?" Or
ford cried.
"Yes, I do. I get back to a certain
point, and then I seem to come to a
dead-wall, which blocks me complete-
ly-"
"Oh, you must be mistaken, or be
mixing him up with somebody else,"
Orford declared. "It couldn't be, you
know; somebody would be sure to rec
ognize him."
"Well, I may be," Lord Archie ad
mitted "I may be, but still I've had
the same impression ever since I have
been in the regiment. Still, as you
say, I may be mixing him up with
somebody else."
"Why don't you ask him outright?"
"I did hint at it once. One of the
horses was sick, and we had a good
deal of trouble with him; and one af
ternoon I was watching Arnitt put a
bandase on, when the conviction that
I had known him before came upon
me stronger than ever. 'This is not
the first time you and I have had to
do with a horse together, Arnitt,' I
said to him. He looked up at me
quickly, a flash of a look as if I might
be a detective who had been tracking
him for years, and had hunted him
down at last. 'For God's sake, don't
my lord,' he said, all in a hurry; 'it's
no use pretending that I was once a '
'An undergrade at Brazenose,' I put
in; when, poor beggar, he gave such a
cringing shiver that I felt sure I'd put
my hand on an open wound, and
wished I had let him alone. '1 want
to forget all that, my lord; I sunk that
life and everything connected with it
long since,' he said, desperately. 'I
wouldn't have joined the Black Horse
if I'd ever guessed you would have
been gazetted to it.' 'Oh, it's all
right. I'll not remind you of it
again, Arnitt,' I told him; for, of course
I didn't want to make his burden
any heavier for him to carry. I knew
his face, but could not remember his
name, and should not try to find out.
'Only,' I said' 'I do remember perfect
ly well that you didn't call me "my
lord" in the old days.' 'Don't talk
about the old days,' he burst out. 'I
forfeited all that made them worth
having, and I can bear it; but don't
remind me of them, if you know what
pity is don't.' So of course I told
him I wouldn't, and no more I did. I
never tried to find him out, but I've
often thought about it, and tried to
fix the name I knew belonged to the
face, but I never could; it has always
eluded my memory just as a dream
often does. Yes, there is a queer story
at the back of Arnitt's hard life, I
know that. It's a strange fate for a
man to have been a tuft at Brazenose,
and then a private in a marching regi
ment, with a wife picked out of a circus.
And he's fond of her, too; oh, yes, for
she is not a bad sort, and was always
pretty. Yes, it's a queer story, very.
Well, I must be getting along by-by."
"By-by," returned Orford, and went
on his way. wondering much about
the story bs had just "heard. Mean
time Lord Archie went further along
the street, and turned in at an arch
way between two of the little feature
less houses, which brought him into
the stable-yard. He just cast an eye
over the animals, and then inquired of
the groom which was Arnitt's house.
The man pointed it out, and Lord
Archie crossed the narrow, ill-paved
little street, and knockedsoftly on the
panel of the door. It was opened by
the pretty, fair-haired wife, who look
ed worn to death, and had a baby in
her arms; two other children, yet lit
tle more than infants, clung to her
skirt s, and the bigcer ones stood in t he
background looking shyly on.
"Good-day, Mrs. Arnitt. How is
your husband?" he asked.
"Oh, my lord, he's very ill," she an
swered with quivering lips and eyes
brimming over, not because she had
been weeping much, but because the
sympathetic tone went straight to her
heart, and made it quiver like a harp
swept by a strong hand; "he's very ill,
indeed; and Dr. Granger scarcely gives
me any hope at all."
"Who's attending to him? Have
you got a nurse or anybody to help
you?" Lord Archie inquired.
"Yes, my lord; Mr. Orford sent one
in as soon as ever he heard Arnitt
was ill very ill, that is. But he will
never get over it, my lord never."
And lowering her voice almost to a
whisper. "He's got something on his
mind; I know it; I'm sure of it."
"What kind of a something?" Lord
Archie asked.
"I can't tell that, my lord," she an
swered; "but something there is, for
certain. Arnitt is a very quiet,
close sorb of man, and though
he's one of the best husbands that
ever drew breath, and has never
given me a cross word since we were
married, and has never raised his
hand to one of the children and they
are trying at times, there's no deny
ing it he's never told me a word
about his past life, never a one. I
don't know anything about him, my
lord, not even where he was born, or
whether he has a relation in all the
world. But he isn't like me, my lord;
and though he's no better now than a
common soldier, he's a gentleman,
Arnitt is; and sometimes Icouldfancy
he was even more than that.
Lord Archie's conscience pricked
him a little that he was obliged in
honor to keep from this distressed
little soul, with her pretty fair hair
and blue tear-drownded eyes, the fact
that he knew the truth of much of
what she was saying. Then a sudden
thoueht-came into his mind.
"Would he like to see me, do you
think?" he asked.
"I feel sure he wou'.d, my lord," she
answered.
"Well, you might ask him," he said,
for he had no desire to disturb what
probably were his ex-groom's last
hours by recalling painfully to his
mind the incidents of the past inci
dents which he most likely needed no
stimulus to remember, and which
would now be crowding back upon
him, as the past does when we have
nearly done with the present.
So she went up the creaking little
stairs with the baby in her arms, leav
ing Lord Archie standing in the midst
of the group of aw-stricken and be
wildered youngsters. He spoke to one
or two of them, the eldest boy amongst
them,and found that Marcus Orford's
little anecdote had been liberally
doctored in the matter of pronuncia
tion and accent, and that he in com
mon with all others, spoke very well
indeed, and if not quite up to his own
standard, still very much above the
average of a better class of children
than those living in that part of War
neclifle. And then Mrs. Arnitt appeared
again, and said the sick man was very
anxious to see his lordship if he would
go up. So Lord Archie went up
alone.
It was a poor little room in which
he found himself when he reached the
top of the creaking stairway, but it
was clean and orderly. The quilt up
on the bed was white, if coarse, and
there was a pleasant-faced middle
aged nurse in a white cap sitting be
side the patient, who rose and made
her obedience when he entered under
the low doorway. Arnitt made asign
to her to leave them, and Lord Archie
advanced to the side of the bed.
"Why, Arnitt" he said, "I'm very
sorry to find you so ill; what ever
have you been doing to get like this?"
"I've about come to the end of
the journey," said the sick man in a
painful undertone, scarcely more than
a whisper.
"Oh! I hope not, I hope not, put in
the officer kindly. "You must keep
up your heart. You know while there's
life there's hope,and a man just in his
prime, as you are, mustn't think of
giving in yet awhile. Besides, there
are others to think of, you know, Ar
nitt there's your wife, and there are
your children you must make an ef
fort and do your best to live for their
sakes."
"Poor souls, God help them!" mur
mured Arnitt, feebly. "I've never
been much good to her, and she's been
the best and dearest of wives to me;
but there'll be a provision for her and
for them, never fear; and, Lord Archie
it was about that I was anxious to see
you when INellie told me you were
down below." "Ought you to be talk
ing so much?" Lord Archie asked.gen
tly interrupting. He had noticed the
change in Arnitt's manner of address
ing him a change from "my lord" to
Lord Archie and it made the man
more familiar than ever.
"Oh, yes, yes what will it matter
in the end; impatiently. "Just a
few minutes more or less. I must tell
you some things, and get you to help
my boy into the rights and position
which I had to forego and give up. 1
know you will, when I have told you
my story, beginning from the time
when vou were Archie Falconner, of
Paul's, and I was Studham, ot Braze
nose.
Lord Archie uttered a sharp cry of
recognition and surprise. "Studham,
of Brazenose, and the ranks ot the
Twenty-fifth dragoons! Good heavens!
what could have possessed you? You
must have been mad mad!"
"No, I wasn't mad, not in the least;
I was only the victim of circum
stances," answered the sick man, with
a sad smile; "But , tell me, didn't you
know all along?"
"I never guessed it. I never suspect
ed it for a moment. Ionly knew 1 had
known you long ago in tha old 'Varsi
ty days. Yes; of course you are Stud
ham; but, heavens!" how you are al
tered." "Fourteen years of the ranks do make
a change in a man, and the Studham
you knew was very young and very
foolish," the other answered.
"Then what can I do for you? Why
don't you claim your own, and take
your own place in the world? It's ab
surd to think of you, Studham nay,
but you are not Studham, but Man
nersleigh, now, since your father died
dragging out such a life as yours
must of necessity be. It's absurd, and
we must get you out of this at once."
"No, no; it's a poor little hole, but
I've been happy in it. I'll stay here
to the end of the chapter. We've got
to the last page, I fancy. Still, my
children have rights, and I have kept
silence long enough."
"For Mannersleigh that is, for your
brother Taff."
"Yes, Taff; do you ever hear any
thing of him? Have you any idea
what kind of a life he is leading?"
Lord Archie laughed. "Oh, he has
turned over a new leat; he has given
up the old ways with the old name.
But how came he to prove your death?
He must have done it to claim and
gain your father's title."
"I don't know; I have not heard a
word of him for years never since the
day when I last saw him, when I told
him I had proof, proof of his guilt for
which I have borne the blame all these
fourteen I0..2 wearv vears past. 1
gave him the opportunity of flying the
country, which, he scouted, declaring
J. must he mad, crazy, idiotic lu ucwiu
of suspecting him."
"Of what?"
"Murder!" the sick man answered.
"He foullv and cruelly murdered my
mother's niece, our cousin, because he
had made. But what am I saying?
I am wandering in my head, that I go
babbling out the secret I have kept all
these years to my own hurt and ruin."
He looked anxioiislv at Lord Archie
as he spoke, as if he thought he
would rush out of the room and pro
claim the whole of his secret to the
world at large; but Lord Archie soon
set him at rest.
"Don't worry yourself. You didn't
mean to tell me? Well, I shall never
disclose it, don't worry yourself about
it. And now tell me what steps
shall have to take to secure your son's
rights. Have you made a will, and left
vour papers in order?
Evervthina! Thev are all in that
little tin box. As to my will, that is
made, too; but I should like to add
something to it, if you will consent.'
"I? Oh, of course; what is it?"
"To act as trustee to my children
and their mother. I dare sav she will
marry again, and I'veprovided asuit-
aDie income in case 01 it.
I'll do it, of course; but,tell me Stud
ham, tell me," reverting instinctively
to the old name of their 'Varsity days,
"why, when you had the power to take
everything and provide properly and
suitably for your wife and children
why did you bury yourself in the ranks,
and let that young ruffian Taff usurp
your place.?"
"I'll tell you. As I said, TafE flatly
refused to clear out of the way, and
challenged me yes, actually chal
lenged me to produce my proofs
against him. I had them safe enough,
and so I told him they're in that box
now. I shouldn't have spoken what
would have been the good? It would
have broken my father's heart, and
tarnished our old name; and the girl
was dead, had been lying dead among
the sedge and bulrushes for hours be
fore we found her. All the rum that
could come upon the Mannersleigh
family would not bring her bactif again,
so I determined to keep silence, simply
because I could not see the good of
speaking.
'1 had been all that day sitting
with my lord, but I happened to be
the first to find the poor girl, lying
face down in the water, and as I turned
her over I tore open the bosom of her
gown, in doing it, when there fell out
a letter in xan s nandwrit ing, asKing
her to meet him in that place at 4 in
the afternoon.. I concealtd it instinct
ively, and seeing her hand clinched up
on something, forced it open and
took from it a locket which he
had worn on his watch chain at
luncheon. I knew it, because we had
all noticed it. There was a bit of
broken chain attached to it, evidently
where she had clutched at it in the
last agony of her struggle with him.
1 showed the letter and the locset to
him that very night, and then,, owing
to the gossip of one of of the servants
who had seen me take the locket, or,
rather, had seen me take something
out of her hand, I was put up on the
trial as first witness. As soon as 1
saw in the report that it was known I
had the iocket, I made up my mind
to clear out of the way at once, tor,
though I could keep silence, 1 could
not give false evidence. I could easier
bear rum and social extinction tor
myself than I could break my father's
heart by putting a rope round my
brother's neck. So that night I bolted,
and then I got over to Ireland and en
listed in the Twenty-fifth. But I
didn't know, I never heard, he was
dead. When was it?"
'About a year ago," Lord Archie
replied.
'Ah, I never heard it," sighing; -ana
you say Taff has turned over a new
leat?"
"Presides at philanthropic and re
ligious meetings, and so forth. I be
lieve he's quite a shining light among
the unco' guid."
'Ah, he'll need it all," dryly. 1
fear though, there's iot much real
good in him. He was always a bad
lot, but my father loved him best of
us all. Well, my time is gettingshort,
and if you will get me a lawyer here at
once, I'll settle about the trusteeship;
the sooner the better, there's no time
to lose. For the rest, it will soon be
over. I shall not see to-morrow; of
that I am certain. As soon as you
hear of it, I want you to go and see
Taff, and tell him all I have told you;
tell him that you hold my written
word that it is all true, that unless he
admits my boy's claim, and allows
him to take his place without delay,
you have my orders to disclose every
thing everything! But you will have
no trouble; and I should like to lie in
the old churchyard at home beside my
mother. You'U do all this for me,
Archie?" anxiously.
"1 11 do it all to the best 01 my
power, said iora Arenie, witn a
great lump in his throat and a white
mist oancmg oeiorenis eyes, so tnau
the sick man and the little meagre
room were blotted out from his vision.
"I didn't know that he had gone, or
Ishould have done it before. I always
meant to put mv children in their own
place, but I didn't know the old man
was dead. I oniv kept out 01 the way
for his sake; it was all for his sake."
Lord Archie rose to his feet. "1 11
go for a lawyer at once; but Studham,
old tellovv, can t you maKe an enorx
and get well? I wish you would."
"It's too late now, Archie; but
thank you all the same."
"It seems such a pity, regretiuny.
"It can't be helped," patiently;
'and I kept it from him."
And that night Private John Arnitt
died, and a week later was buried as
John George Aimed, tenth Earl of
Mannersleigh, when Stephen, his son,
reigned in his stead.
A Talk About Murderers.
New York Letter: One of the moat
jxperienced members of the detc:tivo
iorce of New York was talking a day
or two ago about murderers. "The
old superstition," he said, "about
murderers being unable to sleep in the
night has more truth in it than people
may imagine. I've had a great deal
of experience in murder cases during
the past thirty years, and I know
what I'm talking about. With out
and out murderers the ability to sleep
conies strangely enough, as soon as
they have been tried and found guilty.
I am inclined to think that the fear of
being caught has more to do in pre
venting them from enjoying repose at
night than their disturbingeonscience.
I once caught aclue that led to the con
vict ion of a woman in Brooklyn named
Allen, who had never been suspected of
the murder of her husband until I
chanced to get on to it- The old man
had been dead twoyearswhen the wom
an first began to attract my atten
tion. I was a patrol-man then on the
Brooklyn police force, and I got home
at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning. My
room was the fourth story back of a
house in Henry street, and I noticed
that the lights were always burning
when I got in in a solitary windo w in the
back of the house on the next street.
At daylight the gass was turned out,
and the shade raised. This went on
lor a long time, until the summer
months came. By this time I had
grown in the habit of watching the
window carefully- The program, was
never varied until the hot weather set
in. Then the light went out with the
same regularity as soon as dawn ap
peared. A woman slept in the room,
and after she had turned out t he-gas
A Story Of Arthur Gilfnnn.
From the Boston Evening Record.
A number of architects were talking
the other day of tne peculiarities of the
fhfi-irnfp4sion in Boston.
and thev agreed that the late Arthur
. - 1,1 jt?i TT11
Oilman, who designed tne uity ami,
AT.iinr,t-,n KrrpAr. rhnreh and Horticul
tural Hall, took the palm for dashing
seltconhdence. .ine way in niuoi u
practical humor cropped out amid
seeminglv adverse conditions was re-
called with two good stories, iiiougn
l, .o,1q n rrnrid dpn.l of mOlieV he
lie iinvuv l f- ' .
managed to spend a good deal more,
and the result was tnat ne appueu uu
a certain oceasion to take the poor
debtor's oath. To be able to take this
oath a person has to satisty tne mag
istrate that he is not worth $20 in the
world outside certain exempted ar
ticles of property. The questions put
a -ir ;iTv,f.n Viv the counsel for the
LU -'1 l . "J
creditor elicited the fact that he was
boarding at the Tremont iiouse, men
kept by that prince of landlords, Pa
ran Stevens, at the rate of 40 a
week
"Is not this a high price for a man
who hasn't got $20 in the world?
asked the lawyer. The architect hesi
tated about answering this trouble
some question, but on being told by
the judge that he must reply to it, he
exclaimed:
"Yes, your honor, I have often told
Mr. Stevens that he was charging me a
great deal too much, and I wish your
honor would present the matter to
him in this light."
The coolness of this speech convulsed
its hearers, and the judge, who knew
Gilman well in his social relations,
could not refrain from joining m the
merriment. The witty architect was
allowed to take the oath.
she always raised the shade and open
ed both the upper and lower sash
She always looked heavy eyed and ! to hecQme hi ownJ
alter uayngnt nau got inorougiuy in
to the room she would throw herself
on the bed and fall asleep in an in
stant, as though from sheer exhaus
tion. That's the way I came to get
at the points in a poisoning case that
earned "me my first important promo
tion. Leave murderers out of the
question and take men who have
killled other men either in self defence,
during a sudden spasm of insanity, or
as a means of justifiable revenge. Do
you think they sleep well at night? Not
a bit of it. I know an officer who was
standing one day on the corner of his
street with his brother, when a saloon
keeper came out and shot the brother
through the back of the head. My
friend whipped out his own revolver
and killed the murderer, before he could
fire a second shot. That justified the
homicide, of course. Well, sir, that
man is only thirty-six years old and
he looks fifty. He can't get up before
10 o'clock to save him, because he
never sleeps until daylight. Take a
case like that of Ed Stokes. Isn't he
the latest of the late rounders. He
doesn't seem to enjoy standing up to
a bar and drinking and yet at 3 or 4
o'clock 111 the morning he is always to
be found in some public place, with a
friend or two. He does not seem
happy, and he moves restlessly all
the time. There'a more in the old
traditions than the know-it-all young
men of the year '85 are willing to admit."
Jefferson Davis.
A correspondent of the Globe-Democrat
who recently talked with Jeffer
son Davis, says that he conversed
pleasantly upon matters of a literary
and philosophic nature, to which he
devotes much study. Both Mr. and
Mrs. Davis inquired affectionately of
many Georgians whose memory they
cherished; of the peerless Gordon, the
"right arm of Lee;" of Gen. Colquitt,
of Gen. Henry K. Jackson, whose
bravery as a soldier in the Mexican
war Mr. Davis well remembered; and
?specially of the eloqueut Hill, whose
memory is a precious sentiment in
the family.
"In the days," said Mrs. Davis,
"when friends were needed, Mr. Hill
1 came to me so tencieriy, aim onereci
i his assistance with such considerate-
ness, that 1 can never rorget it. "l
think," she continued "that his statue
should be in a recumbent position, it
is so dignified and represents his sleep
ing power."
"Ah," replied Mr. Davis, "a statue
in action, such as that of Patrick Henry
in Richmond, cannot be surpassed for
expression."
"And yet," resumed Mrs. Davis,
"the eye becomes fatigued as it looks
upon an active posture which is never
changed, while you can look upon the
recumbent statue of Lee for hours."
"Very true," said Mr. Davis, "that
j is the statue of a man at rest, whose
work is finished. That of old Patrick
I Henry is at his work, appealing to the
people. In looking upon either, my
! mind runs back to the occasion.."
Mr. Davis' favorite author is Sir
I Walter Scott. Scott's great power of
describing objects in motion, and the
scenery in which his plots are laid, are
I so truthful and realistic as to make
: their recognition easy to the traveller
i who visits them. Among poets he re
I gards Byron the greatest. "The
I striking feature of Byron is that when
i ever he renders a quotation from the
classics he always improves it so much
Other authors
have always failed in this regard.
Moore is the perfection of harmony,
while Burns expresses human feel
ing. The three Byron, Moore and
Burns make a complete com
bination. Bulwer, among modern
novelists, is perhaps the greatest.
He is the only novelist whose style
changes with age his 'Last f the
Barons' being as different in every re
spect from 'Pelham' as though writ
ten by different persons. The only
connecting link between the successive
works is the retention of the alchemist.
The greatest danger to the country in
the future is the vast aggregation of
wealth in single hands. Primogeniture
was abolished as a remedy for that
evil in times past. Now large fortunes
beyond the power of the owner to
spend can be accumulated in one life.
The opposite evil agrarianism is
the great est. There is a difference be-
j tween education and wisdom. I have
known," said Mr. Davis, "wi 'men
who were not learned and earned
men who were not very-wise. Aman's
discretion can not be gauged by his
knowledge. The Scotch are a people
of great knowledge, yet in many parts
of Mississppi where book knowledge
is lacking, the people are always wise
in their conclusions, not always able
to give the reasons therefor, yet not
the less wise."
A Bird Study.
From the Atlantic Monthly.
The mocking-bird's emotions were
so intense and so originally displayed
that he was a constant source of in
terest. A hand glass lying face up
gave opportunity for an amv.sing ex
hibition one day. Leaning over it, he
puffed out every feather, opened his
mouth, and tried the glass with his
beak at every point. Meeting no sat
isfaction, he turned to leave it, but
first peeped slyly over "he edge to see
if the stranger were still there, no
doubt unable to get over his surprise
at seeing a bird in that position and
ready to meet his bill at every j lint.
The same glass standing up brought
out a different demonstration. He
stood in front of it and swelled
himself out, while the feath
ers of the shoulders and breast
were erected. Then he opened his
mouth wide and attacked the
A Strange Community.
A correspondent of the Wheeling
Register, who has recently visited the
settlement of Viorle, in the extreme
southwestern part of Kansas, says of
it: The valley is some ten miles wide
at this place, and soil is very fertile.
It has a population of one thousand.
Viorleis a distincttown. It makes its
own laws, passes sentence of death,
regulates all matters of equity and dic
tates the religious and social status.
Viorle has no hotel, no place for a
stranger. He could get nothingto eat
only at private houses. Viorle won
dered at us getting there, and sterniy
discussed the propriety of ejectment.
It had been a long timesince strangers
were in their midst. However, after a
long parley and due deliberation, we
were permitted to remain. The town
was laid out and settlements com
menced by a company of religions
bigots in "the spring of 1808, since
which time select families have been
added. In the beginning it was decreed
that all things should be held in com
mon, houses, however small, should
be built of brick, and extravagance,
finely, fancy work should not be tol
erated. The people are plain, siraple-
reflection. but was astonished to meet 1 minded and verv common
the glass. He touched the bill of his To see good brick buildings with
double with his own, and moved all j loopholes for windows and doors hewn
the way to the bottom of the glass, out of timber, to see people lie on the
not takingit away, but. apparently try- j pround (for these houses have no
ing to seize the one which opposed his. ; floor), and repose 011 skins, and to see
He lowered his head as though to take j no furniture, not even a dish or stove,
hold of the enemy's foot, then pulled j was not only odd but interesting,
timself up as straight as a soldier. ; Their theory is to buy nothing and
wings and tail constantly jerking with sell nothing". AH must go to work
excitement. After indulging for some j very early in the morning, and work
time in these proceedings, he dodged I just so hard and long as they choose,
around behind the glass, plainly ex- j unless an edict is issued by the pru
pectingto pounce upon his opponent, dent for more diligence. Now, thepru
nnd siiinrised not to do so. Several j dent consists of twelve men selected
times he drew himself up, swelled out I by their own body when vacancies
. . -1 11 a. 3 i,c.. - - mi 1 u - i:c 4. nu,.
liia hreast. and blustered betore tne
Once he flew up with the reflec
arise, luey noid a me tenure. j.ney
settle all disputes, regulate all indus
tries and divide the crops. The du
ties of their office wouUl seem enor
mous, but it appears they have little
tion in the manner of a. quarrelsome
cock, and upon reaching che top of
the class naturally went over and
landed behind, without an enemy in to do.
sight. Upon this he stared a moment, j There are really no stores, but there
as if dazed, then shook himself out 1 are three large buildings used astare
and flew away in evident disgust. houses, where the different products
The deliberate, leisurely dressing ; are nicely kept. In one of these were
of plumage with which many birds pass ' stored vegetables,, corn and other
awav the dull hours is an oc-1 thincs, in another were stored -woven
cupation m which the mock
ingbird never had time to indulse.
He was a bird of affairs; he had too
much on his mind for loitering. A few
sudden, thourough shakes, a rapid
snatching cf the wing and tail feathers
through the beak, or, after a bath, a
violent beating the air with both
wings while holdingtightly tothe perch
with his feet, sufficed for his toilet. Not
withstanding his apparent careless
ness, his plumage was soft and exquis
ite in texture, and when wet thedowny
breast feathers matted together and
hung in locks, like hair. Through a
common magnifying-glass each tiny
fabrics and tanned skins and robes;
in the other was whiskey.
Pierre Lorillard has expended $18,
000 on a kennel for his dogs at Jobs
town, N. J., and the cost of the ani
mals, salaries and houses for the Super
intendent and his assistants runs the
outlay up to $60,000. The exercising
ground is ten acres, and 200 acres, are
used for breaking the dogs in on game.
Two setters cost $5,Q00 each.
Mr. Howells, Mr. James and Mr.
rKl ... . ; w ft Oficl iir.Vi fnr their se-
1,0 .-Knl.! waci coon tn hfl rinapd with' i j : : i. , r,, t , . .... oa
gray and silvery white, so finely that j much more for the right to publish
the rings, could hardly be seen. I thejr Tories iw book form.