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About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (April 1, 1882)
DEATH. ' Ouloflhenrrowsnfeedneiu, Into tbe mnlight of (1iilnrM, Into tbe light nf the blot; Out of land verjrdieary, Out of tiie world of tli weary, joto tbe revlures of rest. Out of to-day'l tin and sorrow, Into bliMful to-morrow, Intoi dar without gloom; Out of laud filled with sighing land f the deed tod dying Into a Und without tumb. Out of lift of ootn motion, Tempest swept oft at the omen, Dark witb Uie wreck driniog o'er In a land calm and quiet I Dover a storm Cometh nigh it Merer a wreck on it shore. Out of the land In whose bowers Perish and fade all the flowers Out of the land of decay In the bleu where fairert Of fl iwe rs, and swoeteet and rarest, Never shall wither away. Out of the world of the ailing, Fhrong.'d w th anguish and wailing; Out of the world of the sad, Into the verld that rejoices, World of bright visions and voices, Into the world of the glad. Out of a life ever mournful, Out of a land ever mournful, Where in bleakexile weroein-- Ink) a joy-land above us-- Where there's a Kalhor to love op inio "Our tlmne, Bwoot Home." IRE ESr.ntEJlCT DKIIX. Sometimes in the long winter evenings Henry Bruce amused himself by making out lint" of ion 01 v pcopio, anu uis uwu namo stood at tho bead. He agreed that Robinson Crasoe bad a hard time, bnt Robinson Crusoe could remember when he bod as much company a he wanted, and Henry could not. Tbe Man in the Iron Mask waa solitary enough, but how abont the time before he wore it? As for St.Birueou Stylitos, Henry would not put him ou the list at all, because, even if be did choose to lire on the top of a high pillar, be always had crowd gaping np at bim. Henry's grievance was one that be shared with Adam; be bad never had a boy to play with bim. His father waa the keeper of a light house on the northern coast of England, The light honse stood on a -rock two miles ont at sea, and Henry lived with bis mother and little sister in a cottage on the mainland. There was not another house within sight, and not a boy within a day's travel. Men used to come up the coast shooting and fishing, but curi ously enough, no boys ever came along, and, although Honry had seen them on vessels, he had never had a geod, honest hour's play or talk with boy in all his life. There was another odd thing about the life here. At all light bouses in these times there are two or three men, to if one gets sink there will be some one - to take his place, Bnt Mr. Bruce bad never bad an assistant.' Everything bad alwsy gone on right, and so the govern , metit had never realized that he was alone, and he never spoke of it becanse be waa afraid that he would be paid lew if be bad a man to help bim. He ex pected Henry to take the place of assis tant as soon as he was old enough. In the meantime, to educate tbe boy for possible eontaot with the world, he used to put bim throngh what be called "The Emergency Drill." This related to differ ent matters, bnt it always began in the same way. Tbe first question was, "What is the matter?" The second, "What first t" Then. "Do I need help J" and if the answer to this was "Yes," then, " vVhcr shall I get it ?" Henry became so used to these questions that be pnt them to himself on many occasions, and he often amused himself playing he was a General on the battle-field, or a King out hunting, and he imagined all sorts of troubles when the "Drill" was of use. One morning a fishing boat came in bonud to the nearest town, and Mrs. Brnee asked the men to tako her along to buy yarn for the children's stookings. Tbcy agreed, bnt told her she would have to walk baok, bnt she waa willing to do this, attbough the distance was twelve miles, because, as she said, if they did not take ber she would have to walk both ways. Everything went on very well until near sunset, when the sky began to olond, ami little Lucy became cross and sleepy, and cried for her mother. Honry gave hor bread and milk, but still she fretted. 8he did not want to play aud she would not go to sleep. "My goodnessl" he nrled. "I wish all babies wero grown npl I would rather hunt lions tlian take rare of you!" He then pieked her np and oarried her to the door, "Now, be said, "we will watch for mamma." The rocks stood up against a heavy sky. The wind had begun t moan, and the birds flow screaming ovor the water. Tboro was not a sign of their mother coming on the beach, and Henry felt more lonely than ever. He looked over to the light bouse and wished bis father would light it up, and it eeenied to him tliat sunset, the time tor lighting, must surely have oome. (Suddenly a little flag apieared in the lantern. Henry sprang to his feet. "What is the matter?" he exclaimed in real earnest. "I don't know." was his reply. "What first?" "To go to the light bouse." But he was mistaken the first thing to do was to dispose of Lucy. He eoitld not take ber; he eould not leave ber.' "If yon were only ahorse," be hur riedly cried, "I oould put von in the table. If yon were a oow I'd tie you to the stake; but what can I do with a babv?" "Lucy can go," said the child. "No, she can't," be unHwercd. And then be looked out again, but his mother was not yet in sight, aud tho rod dag which mount "Come at onee," still altook and beckoned to him. lie tied Lucy into her little chnir with an apron .and wrote a note to his mother: Dean Motiikh father wanted ruo right awav and the lamn it mil lit Hnd it in after snaset ami I hopo Ltio. won't get into any trouble, lour mn, N Hem. i Uhi'i'k. He pnt this note in front of the lamp and harried oil. A boat waa always kept ready, and Henry sprung iuto it and rowed off with energy. It was dark, however, when he reached the light bouse, and tho rain bad begun to fall. He tied his boat to the little pier and ran to tbe tower. 1 He eMd small, heavy bronze door and entered a large, always dimly-lighted in whi.l, was stored coal and wood', oil for tbe lamp and fresh water from tbe main land. The stairs wore in this room and Henry ran np. The room above waa the kitchen, over tliat was me ueurwiu, from this a ladder lea to m iuwru, Rnrrallfl,1 bnt there was no answer, He went np into the lantern. All was dark and silent. He spoke again and again but still all was silent. Then he beard a groan, and be rushed down the ladder, got tbe keeper a nanuiaiui uu ran back. His father lav on the floor; his eyes were closed and blood ran from bis temple, it was piain iuv m u fallen and hurt himself. Henry began to ory. He did not know wbst to ao, ana tue mergeuuy in didn't nrcnr to bim. Then be remem bered that be ought to stop the flow of Ii mw1 and taking Ins latner s nanuaer- chief from bis pocket be tied np the wound. Still his father neither spoke nnr moved. Then be cried again. And than he thought of his mother. Bhe must by this time be at nome, anu, wuu out hesitation, be rushed off again, but this time to bis boat. It took bnt a mo ment to untie it and spring in and be off. . . The rain fell heavily, the wave Uasbed on the rocks, and Henry, looking np, saw the dim outline of the light honse. He stopped rowing. His heart gave a groat jump, ana bemre nis eyes seemeu to flush the "charge to keepers" bung np in the light bouse: Yon are to light tbe lamps every even ins at sunsetting, and keep them burn ing bright and cloar until snnrising. His father's faithfulness, the great im portance of lighting op, rushed into Henry's mind, and again be involun tarily repeated bis "Emergency Drill." "What is tbe matter; ' "Tbe lamps are not lighted." "What first?" "To light them." Ha turned bis boat and rowed back a few rods. But was it first? It could nut be! He must take bis mother over. His father would die for want of help. As he nansed. trembling, anxious, irresolute, he remembered how often his father bad said that no wreck should ever be his fault, and it was a terrible night! Henry knew what bis father would say, and he at once rowed directly back.. He returned to the house, stumbled np tbe dark stairs, got tbe lamp again and ran np into the lantern. It took him bnt a moment to light tbe lamps, and tbe glow spread out on the sea, and aroused by the glare bis father opened bis eyes. "lbe lamps, us saiu. "I have lighted them." Henry replied; "and now I am going for mother." Stayl" was tbe answer, and bis fatber closed lis eyes again. Henry hesitated, out be sat down in the hard chair in which bis fatber spent each night watching. He knew what bis father meant. The lights would go out, and needed oare all night. And bo Henry sat there. Tbe wind bowled; the bonse shook andswayed; tbe sea birds dashed against the glass; the rain beat on tbe roof, and all aorta of wild sounds seemed to be in tbe air. Sometimes be got np and bathed bis . . . t i 1 .TiL 1 TT. I I. . miner a ueeu wuu wawr, no uruuyut a pillow, He talked to him, but be bad no answer but a moan, yet be never cried, and he never ceased to keep tbe lights burning "bright and dear." it seemed to mm nearly morning wnen be heard wounding at the light honse door. He knew that it was some one seeking shelter, and be went down and opened it. There stood a man and boy and his mother. Henrv cried then) And be laughed and be clung around her neck, and he poured out that his father waa hurt, and that he had kept the light burning, and he had to leave Lncy, and all of it in one breath. But'" said his mother, pushing back her wet hair, "I do not understand you. Where is your father? Whew is Luoy?" "lie is npstair. i left a note lor yon by tbe lamp. "But I have not been borne," exolaiin- ed hia mother, "I have been all night on the sea. Our friends here told mo they would give me passage baok, so I waited. It became dark so early, and we were dashed on the rooks and our msst broken. We had no idea where we were, and we could not see the light house. Then all at onoe it blazed up. and all night, this fearful night, we have struggled toward it." And so it waa bis mother that Henry saved when he decided that his father would hold bis duty dearer than life, and tnrning back took his place and kept the signal lights burning. How happy tbey were that night aftor the keeper was carried down stairs, and came to his senses, and told how be fell and only bad power to put out tbe flag. The ouly thing that troubled Mrs. Bruce was the thought of Lucy tied in her chair. When Mr. Bruce recovered he asked for an assistant, and when the man came behold be brought his son, a year younger than Henrv, and Henry felt as if he had got his "Man Friday. " Our Continent. A Woman oe lea's Trousers. Kate Field, who is always startling the dull ones, with her uovel notions, advo- oates in Our Continent a return to the knee-breeches of our ancestors. She says: "There is nothing whatever to be brought forward in favor of trousers exoept that they serve to cover up bad legs. Men without calves, when arrayed in the broadcloth of th period are as ploaiing as Apollos. But shall all male beauty be sacrificed to tbe.callless? Can not art assist nature, aud supplement proportions akin to the meager pipeeteni? Men on the stage are uo better lortuod than those off.yet.they creditably endure tho ordeal ol knoe-breecbea. Moreover, small clothes can easily tako the place of stockiugs, and thus overcome tbe objec tions oi the luuk and lean. Hera let me ask why there are undeveloped loga? Do they not indicate physical degeneracy neglect of athletic sporU.bv whifh beau ty of form ia attained? M'ight not the rovtval of kiiee-brcechea lead to greater physical culture, and there by aid iu advancing the human mce? To be brought (ace to face, or literally, leg to leg with dcnvienciea, is the first step toward improvement. It ia said that whatever a French woman 'a aflectioa for ber busband.she is generally foudor of her children. This hits tbe Ametioan woman some, too. LKSLET'B COJbriiUCI. v. .Tnlm Clifford looked over tbe wal nut and plato-glass railing around his "office" in the corner of the counting room of the daily and weekly ueraiu, just as a sweet, ringing laugh from the composing room opposite came to bis ears. "TV. Tlnv Lord that is "PotorFur' man said, as he saw the look of inquiry on Mr. Clifford s lace, "as prewv a gin aa ever stepped in shoes, but spoiled and bnmored nntil she thinks she can do as she likes." , . Mr. Clifford looked throngh the open door he was the new bookkeeper, just entering npon bis duties that morning. "So that is Miss Lord the yonog lady with the round white arms and shining toflth and the hair piled in a gold-col ored mass on top of ber bead? Well, Fnrman, sbe is rather good-looking certainly not as handsome as one would ue leu to mine irum ju uhjiuvu. Several hours later, when Mr. Clifford was thinking it was nearly time for sup per, a merry little clatter of boot heels sounded on the floor, coming toward bis office, and be looked np to see Miss Les ley Lord standing at tbe dome-shaped opening in front of bim. "Mr. Clifford," she said, with a grace ful little arch of her eyebrows "at least, I suppose it is Mr. Chflbrd.tbe new bookkeeper?" "I am at yonr ervioe,"he responded, looking straightforward at the flushed dimplod oheeks and little white teeth. "I would like to have an advance on Saturday night's pay, if yon please." Tbe "if you please" was very much at variance with the imperiousness of ber demand. 'You would like an advance? be reit erated, gravely. Lesley gave a provoked little toss of her bead, and tapped her finger on the plate-glues shelf. 'ibat is wnai l sum, i ueneve. 'Am I to understand it is the custom of this office to advance money to the employe npnn all occasions?" "I don't know anything about what the employes do; but I know that I always receive an advance when I ask for it." Mr. Clifford closed his day-book quietly. "Ithii "I think the rules of the offioe forbid such a precedent, Miss Lord. Frank," to tbe office boy nusiiv directing we man, "jnst light up, will you?" Lesley stood perfectly astonished at the polite yet cavalier treatment she bad received. The ideal This new man putting on suoh airs to ber tbe acknowledged belle and beauty of the girls who set type in the Herald composing room. Frank lighted tbe gas, ana jar. viu ford began counting the money in the cash box. while Lesley, in a passion, stood staring at bim. "You don't intend to let me have it?" she said presently, in a low, indigant voioe that was irresistibly charming for all that. "Certainly not you nor any one." Lesley sent him one look, perfectly sav age with anger. An hour later, in tne midst oi a driv ing rain-storm. Mr. Clifford stepped ont of the tram-oar in a pretty, lonely sub urb of tbe city, to which he was an en tire stranger and after looking about him for several minutes, sans umbrella or overshoes, be began dimly to realize that be did not know whioh of the half dozen bouses within sight was the one where bis new landlady, Mrs. Raw son, lived. "A charming position to find oneself in, ''he thought, as the rain soaked through hia clothes, and he discovered that the mnd was disagreeably uncertain to wade through, especially in tbe dark ness. "I'll make a bee line for the nearest light," he decided, and forthwith set out for a little cottage, not so apallingly.far off, where he arrived In dne time, and shivering with the cold dampness of his clothes, he was cheered by the prompt opening of tbe door by a piaoid laoed, eldorly lady who answered him in tho cheeriest, most unconventional man ner. "Mrs. Rowson's? Why, you won't think of going sway up there in such a storm as this. Come in, and see if 1 can't make you comfortable for awhile. I've got a boy just abont your age some where in the West and if be should be out in the storm" Her mother-love was sweet and strong on ber gentle, womanly face, and he stepped in, gladly, yet reluotantly. "I am so muddy and dripping I am John Clifford, book keeper at the Her ald, ma'am, and a stranger in the city." His hostoss insisted on his going in, and in has than no time he was feeling decidedly comfortable beside the open fire, in borrowed slippers and rapidly drying clothes. "The new book-keeper of tbe Herald office, I think you said ? My niece works there and she's been talking about the 'new man' for a week or so I believe all the girls were anxious to see you, Mr. Clifford. The kindly lady bustled about to get tbe supper ready in the little kitchon, and at the latest stage of the proceedings she took the lamp out with ber, while she broiled the ham. "You won't mind sitting by the fire light a minute or two, I know. We're poor folks, and have to economize in oil." And a second after tbe lamp bad gone, and tbe savory odor of the broiling horn floated into his hungry sense, a side door opened, and somebody came in, bring ing a cool rainy fooling with her for it waa a girl, in waterproof and rubbers. "I cams so near staying at Jenny Ball's for supper, auntie I would have stayed only I was afraid you'd be wor ried about me. We did have so much to talk abont," and a tuncy little laugh rippled through the dusk as she plumped herself down on the door to tuke off ber rubbers. "The new book-keeper came, annuo just the handsomest fellow, with oh heavenly eyes and a lovely mm tache, but he is too mean and hateful for anything to me, auutio, you wouldn't believe it. would you? Well, we girls'U furnish him! We've made a conspiracy wtween us, and I'm to make bim fall iu love witb me I can, I know and then I am to rejeot bim haughtily, and lot Auntie, have you been in the cellar all this time I've been talking?" And as Mrs. Cumraings appeared at the head of the cellar stairs, Lesley Lord picked up the lamp and carried it back into the little dining rooa, while Mr. Clifford arose from bis easy chair as the lamplight and Lesley's amazed looks fell npon bim simultaneously. He laughed as be extended bis band, while Lesley, bewildered beyond meas ore, stood stock still in the middle of the room, lamp in hand, her cheeks flushing P"Fy7forgive me. I certainly did I not mean to lie so hateful, I assure you, Miss t i Tir' .linn nm to relieve you of the lamp? and then-please -begin at once the part oi tbe programmo JUU . to fill in the conspiracy against me. 1 can promise you it will be tbe mosi agreeable to me." "I didn't ksiow yon were bore, r 1 . ..,., I 1.Maariallv. &nd thCO sbe did the best possible thing under the circumstances luugnea uearuij. "I dare say I shall never hear the lost of it," she said. "Well, Mr. Clifford, I can stand it if you can." is ,;u 1( ma T will stay the re mainder of the evening and try," he re turned, gravely. Well, be stayed, anu ijesiey w u.;ni.;n n,i affor hn had gone home she wont to bed and cried herself to sleep for very shame at her stupid, idiotic blunder. 'U :n .lnaniiiii ma T know ho will. she sobbed to herself, "and be is jnst splendid. Bnt instead of despising ber Mr. Clif ford asked her to marry bim six months afterward. .... , "I will say 'Yes, just because 1 jute to k. nnnirar " uliil laiiohnd. "I Said I'd reject you haughtily, and instead I'll ac cept you-'' . tthe hesitated wun a nine giance at mo handsome face. uRamnu T will not take 'No for an answer?" he suggested, drawing her face to his breast, "Becanse I do love you," was her re ply, low and sweet. And that was the delightful end of Lesley's little conspiracy. Just tbe tllrl for a Dear Beir.SacrlflL- tpg nan. Tlia name was Augustus Smythe; be was a clerk in a dry goods store, and be didn't earn enough to deoently starve on, but with tbe sublime assurance that distinguishes tbe "lah-de-lah" young man of the day, be was paying hie atten tion to tho prettiest girl in Detroit. He managed, by not paying his washer wo man and tailor, to take her to the theater and opera, but a times were getting hard he concluded to marry her and save the expense ef boarding. By some prooes of mental arithmetic he succeeded in dis covering with much difficulty that wbat waa not enough for one was enough fiir two: and forthwith he concluded to pop. He knew that his persistent visits had kept all other young men sway, so he had no fear of a trial. When the time came and he found himself in the com pany of bis Laura in ber papa'a comfoit able parlor, be leisurely seated himself by ber side on tbe sofa, took ber little dimplod hand, used only to tinkle the piano with, and said in a bronze voioe: "Dear Mis Laura, I have concluded to marry." Laura started as be intended she should. Then be resumed grandilo quently, "I want a dear little girl abont your size, wuu at grout uig uoaii, ju like yours, to share my lot." "Is it on Madison avenue? ' murmured Laura. "No.dearest: but what are localities to heart that love? I want a girl that is good-tempered, smart, economical, and wbo love me. leaning, uo you auow oi inch a one?" Laura, faintly "Yes, oh yes, I am sure I do." "One who would rather live with me in poverty than dwell with some other man in riches? Who would esteem it a pleasure to serve me, cook my meals, keep the house tidy, and listen for my footsteps? Who would rise early and sit up late for my sake?" "Ub, bow beauuiui, murmured Laura; "just like a dear, self-sacrificing man!" "Do you know of suoh a one, my angel?" . "Yes, I do," responded 'Laura, fer vently; "but you must not call me your angel, for she might not like it; she' in the kitchen now washing tbe dishes, and she told mother this morning that she'd nst as leave got married this winter aa ive out. if she only felt able to support a husband. She's just the girl you want and she'd love you within an inoh of your life." But Augustus bad fled into the outer darkness; the too mnchnes of the occa sion overoame bim like a summer cloud. Interest anil Labor. Interest is a tax-gatherer. It enters into every workshop, field and mine, and gathep labor a prottt. Labor has wife and family to support, Labor needs food, olotbing and rest. Labor work six day out of every seven,and ten hours out of every twenty four. ' Labor gets sick and baa doctors' bills to pay. Labor gets old, wear and cannot be repaired. Internet worka seven days in a week and twenty-four hours in a day. Interest needs no clothing or food. Interest never gets sick or tired. Interest has no family to support or doctors bills to pay. Interest produce nothing, but con sumes everything. Interest gathers where labor reaps,and reaps wbera labor sows, Labor erects itself a bouse and pay interest rent on it. Laltor producea bread, and interest eats it. Labor keeps poor, and interest grows neb. Interest rules; labor obeys. Interest is master, labor is a slave. A Boboolmanter in Southern Oregon has resigned his place beoanse two of the directors would not snjtain bim in his efforts to stop urchins from squirt iug tobacco juico on the stove during school hours. Oregon wants no teachers that set np to be Oscar Wildes. Mrs. Wall, of Xew York, at breakfast scolded her husband. During the day he was shot, and she is to be tried for the murder. Moral: Wives must not scold their husbands iu the morning (or at noon or at night) and they will tkn escape suspicion. Holding and fowl" U' There are some who have inherited so mKngbnsof fiber that they are ",re to bold on until .ucce i od. Nothing can discourage thenv or bring dismay; They have a faith in nln .rm which amounU to wonoe. If they make a hundred failures they .tr ke flelS to be defeated, but to win su oo bm, and be did win. General Gruit , said I he would "figbt it out on that line if it took .summer." That declaration i wa. the sure prophecy of success. Defeat was not admitted into the programme. He will hold on and tighten the grip. The more desierate the outlook the firmer the hold. He will never let go. This is a beautiful allegory-or fact, as one may interpret it in tbe Scriptures, of Jacob .S:.. ;fK ti,a ano-I. and would not let go bis hold until he bad obtuned what he was struggling for. The old patriorch bad a strong grip. He was an early type of success-a man of faith and action. He wresUed, held on and pre vailed. .... i . The men who succeed in tue prum.- sions have this strong grip. Uenns is not an eloment of positive success, mere have been no greater failures made in this world than by men of genius who lucked grip and staying power. What is necdlul is tbe power to bold on, and if need be, to grub at the very roots of things until victory comes. Lawyer succeed iu that way. The most success f ul members of the bar have this tough ness of fiber. Clients know that these men will hold on and wring a victory f mm th. verv laws of defeat, if poseible. They go to them in time of trouble, not because tbey are men oi gumus, uu. -cause they have pluck, toughness, fiber, the power to fight it out on that line "if it takes all enmtner." Wuen m is sum of any one that if he meets with any dis couragement "be will drop the tools and run," it may be aet down that no great sucoosa wdl crown bis efforts. Somewhere be must fight bis battle for life. Wben it is said that one has good (tcrhtino-hlood in him. tbe best of qual ities has been described, provided bis pluck and courage have been ngnviy ui- rected. Tbe successful men oi tuis world have made scores of failures, nal thv did not let go for all that. There ia a significant saying in California about certain men that they have "gone over the grade." Why go over at all? In the more essential fact, the man who has this tenacity, this power to now on, navar goes over the grade. That is, he ia just as much oi a man atter ns uas o . . . 1 I made a series oi failures as ao who uo- fore. In fact be is probably stronger, TT tnno-hnna bv defeat. There waa a recent case of suioidein this oity of a young man who left behind bim a note, wbicn, oy any lair interpre tation, meant tbat ne naa iosi nis gn n.1 4t tktt Hiann flanlinAd ta lav ho again. It was a declaration of a lack of pluok, oonrage, endurance, with an ia dication of disappointment signifying i neglected genius one who had failed to win a fair recognition. Without know ing anything special of the cironmstances of this man, tbe case may be taken as a typloal one. He did not propose to fight it out on any line for success, but let go bis bold and dropped out oi uie world. No doubt, the kind of reasoning bere disclosed shows a morbid and unhealthy mind. But this very condition comes from gloomy introspection, from brood ing over a want of suooeB and taking it to heart. In the long run, every man who has conrage. pluck and endurance will find his place, or at least one where he will win a lair measure oi apprecia tion. Men who achieve marked success bide their time. How long have the great artists of tbe world waited for sucoess? Scholars and literary men have fought their way in obscurity fo years. Ho doubt, some fields are mote promising for literary men than others. But it is a part of tbe business of one wanting recognition and appreciation, to find bis field to fight for the occupation; If one sort of work does not win, try another, until the right vocation ho been found. Suppose a young man tries literature, the most uncertain of atl vocations. He doe not Bucoeed. He imagines be does good work, but it is not wanted. Does the world neglect him more than others? Not a bit; the world does not care for one's pretentions. It only wants to know who can do certain kinds of work better than others. It may be slow in finding this out. But it does find it out in the long run. Tbe man who lets go liis grip because be has not succeeded, and leaves tbe world as a suioide, shows that his judg ment has been strangely at fault. He has undervalued life, has trifled with it. and he goes out of the world more as a triflcr than - as an earnest and courageous man. There is no better moral for such cases. It is a running away on the battlefield from duty and from life, and tbat is the real ists view which every brave and healthy soul is compelled to take of such in stances. The failures of life are a part of its discipline, boldiers who suffer defeat are all the better because they have been undor fire; and there will oome a time when these veterans will surely win the victory. In the long run, every deieat becomes a oondition of suo' cess if it is rightly turned to account. Somewhere in the world every good man and woman ia wanted. Their work, life, patient and courageous example are wanted. The men wbo let go the grip, leaving sentimental notes bebiud. leave nothing which be hopeful to those who ere still fighting the battle. There is no example of fortitude, courage or higher eudeavor. Of those who go by suioide because they have become insane from infirmaties which could not be helped, nothing is said here. Bnt letting go the grip because there is a conviction that there is a lack of appreciation, it is little to say that thoy have undervalued life and have not had the courage to fight the uaitte iur success. ,iiifuui a. ii .uiggiusuu uaacrtucised publicly Mrs. Julia Ward for entertain ing Oscar Wilde in Boston. Mm. Howe ia replying that what she does is none of ri...t t r tt: i ... - , Air. mgginsons business, and mean while the disciples of both are standing gUMS. How we do love to shut our eye to hum wo tsar way ue m rosuiij. A Linn Tamer' ixpcrleiee. "While with Robinson cirens." sni.i Mr. Neylun, "I became acquainted with Bill Reynolds, tbe well-known lion per. former, and became a faHt favorite with bim. He was growing old aud was taken ill quite frequently, thereby necessity ing the withdrawal of that feature in th. entertainment. I was in the habit of ' playing with tho lions outside the cage and one day I asked Archie McCarty,tb boss cunvassmun, wuo uau cuurge of the cage, if he would let me go inside. Ue laughed at me, and insinuated that I would back out mighty quick. I lookod about for a cowhide, and being nnable to find one, subatituted a broom handle and started iu. There were two lions it the cuge and a tiger, the famous lion.Old Frinco, the pet lioness, Jennie, and a beautiful tiger of magnificent propor tion. Old Prince was a stubborn, bull headed creature, and meant mischief every time. I was about sixteen years oi age at me time, uuu wun m goou phys ical condition. The moment! entered, the animals regarded me us an intruder) and Old Prince began to assume a war like deportment. I belabored bim vig orously with tbe broom handle, main taining my scii-poBsesHion, ana ere l left the cage be was humbly submissive, and with tbe othor animals, would do my bidding promptly. I informed the manager that I bad found a snbstituta fifr Reynolds, and would prod une him tbat night. The cage was drawn into the ring, and at tbe time I appeared greatly to the surprise and bewilderment', of the manager. As I started toward the cage he shouted: "Come away, you fool, you will be eaton up." But I went on with the performance and the animals behaved beautifully. At another time Robinson hnd a young lion three years old, of great strength and forocious de position. I determined to break him, and had a terrible encounter with him ' for three hour. Tho enraged beast re fused to obey the lash, and it became necessary to use hot irons instead of th rawhide. After be had been subdued I petted him for a while and then furnish ed him with a substantial meal, and w became the best of friends. All ths clothing I wore at the close of the en counter was a pair of stockings and a wristband to my shirt. I subsequently broke another pair lor liobinson and had a.tough tustle with them, bnt they were nothing in comparison witb the three- year old." Air. aeyian was asueu n uo ever louua himself in extreme peril. "Well, yes," replied Mr. Nejlan, "I waa placed in a most nnooinfortable situ ation. Jennie, the pet lionws. was with youug, and one day I bad occasion to enter her cage and repair it. , The sound of the hammer employed in driving nails appeared to frighten her, and suddenly ' he fastened her teeth upon the calf of my leg. I bad the presence of mind to let ber alone, although she was tearing my flesh terribly; and siezing my ham mer. I watched my opportunity when she had caught my wrist between her teeth, and thrust the handle down her throat, ohoking off her hold. Then she sought! to leap upon me, and stripped me of my clothing, beside leaving ths bloody imprint of her olaws upon my baok. The blows of the hammer did not seem to have any effect, and at an oppor tune moment one of the keeper, seeing my predicament, siezed an iron bar aud belabored ber vigorously, while I kept aooompaniment with my hammer. We oonquered her at last, and I left the cage to dress myself nd my wound. Slit never disturbed me again, and was al ways gentle and tractable. Onoe, previ ous to this, Jennie knocked me down, and Old Prince evidently intended to make a meal of me, bnt my good fortune and courage did not desert me, and I whipped them both into subjeotion wuu my cowhide. "Tbe best time to begin to break lions," said Mr. Neylan, "is when they are oubs of eight to ten months' growth. My practice was to devote an hour a day in the training, always exercising them on empty stomaohes and feeding them immediately afterward; if the animal is tractable and submissive, he should be . treated kindly, but if be is inolined to be stubborn and ugly, thon you must ob tain the mastery by a vigorous use of ths cowhide. They are inclined to be treacherous even when tbe most frolic some and gentle, and it can be shown that tbe majority of lion performers woo have been killed, have allowed too much liberty to their pet. The objective point of the cowhide is the face and eye to blind and confuse them, and they smart and are forced into retirement by a vigorous flagellation. It must not be thought for an instant that one car look them steadily in the eye and thus disarm them. The lion does become somewhat blinded by a Bteady gaze, but the mo ment he lowers his head and give it n ominous shake, then look for danger, and the more promptly tbe lash is ap plied tbe better. Tbe tiger is more treacherously inclined than the lion, and more difficulty is experienced in their training. I have trained Asiatio, African and Maxioan lions, and some of them have developed remarkable power of intelligence and sagacity. Interview in Providenoe Journal. IB Idfa. Twas a onlm, still night; not a breeze stirred the leaves as they lay sleeping in tho trees. Tbe sun had already gone down, and mother earth seemed to be taking a nap. Tbe Thomas cat bopped from fence to fence and sang, bis spark ing songs to his companion, and th cricket chirped his lay. When these had Btopped, it was so silent yon oould bear a bouse drop. As she lay nestled on bis maniy oosom a tbougbt struck ber, ana she said: "Alphonsus, I have a bright idea." He said he knew a brighter one, and when she asked him what it was, he an swered: "Your eyes, dear." There was silence for a moment; thea he said: "Ahem!" Intermission for two minutes; then sle laid her head on the rim of his ear and . wept. He raised his lips to hers, and th' first thing heard waa a farmer's voice from behind a bush, inquiring if that waa hi cow Btuck in the mud and was trying to get her hoof out. A little charcoal thrown into the pot will sweeten meat that is a little old. Not if it ia anyway tainted it is then unfit to eat but only if kept a little longer than makes it quite) fresh.