THE HERO OF THE TOWER.
Loz time asro, when Austria, was young,
There came a herald to Vienna's gates,
Bidding the city fling them open wide
Upon a certain day: for then the king
Would enter, with his shining retinae.
Forthwith the buy streets were pleasure-paths;
And that which seemed bat now a field of toil,
With weed 8 of tnrbnlence and tricky greed,
Flashed into gardens blooming full of flowers.
Beauty blushed deeper, now the rising son
Of royalty upon it was to shine;
Wealth cast its nets of tinsel and of gold
To catch the kingly eye; and wUdom merged
Itrelf Into the terms of an address,
Which the old mayor sat np nishts to learn
A needy poet wrou- the same for him).
Ts'o maiden fluttered through tho narrow streets
That pondered not what ribbons she should wear;
No window on the long procession's route
But had its tenants long engaged ahead.
But the old sextan of St Joseph's church
Hoped dnll and sulky through the smiling crowd,
A blot npon the city 's pleasure-page.
What runs wrong with yon, uncle?" was the cry
Ton who have been the very youngest boy
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 yonr 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.
A men will when a man has things to say.
And thus he spoke: "For fifty years and more
I have been sexton of St. Joseph's church,
tit. Joseph would have fared ill but for me.
And thongh my friend the priest may smile at this
And wink at yon an unbelieving eye,
My office shines in heaven as well as his.
Although it was not mine to make the church
Oodly, I kept it clean, and that stands next.
If I have broke one circle of my sphere,
Let some one with straight finger trace It oat.
"And no procession in these fifty years
Bis marched the streets with aught like kingly
tread,
But on the snmmlt of St Joseph's spire
I stood erect and waved a welcome-nag.
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 of my manhood's fire
Is choked in cold white ashes; and mr nerves
Tremble in every zephyr like the leaves.
What can I do? the flag mnst not be missed
From the cathedral' summit. I've no son,
Or he should bear tha banner, or my curse.
I have a daughter: she shall wave the flag!
"And this is how my girl shall wave the flag.
Ten suitors has she; and the valiant one
Who, strong of heart and will, can climb that perch,
And do what I so many time have done.
Shall shake her hand from mine at his descent.
Speak up, Vienna lads! and recollect
How much of loveliness faint heart e'er won."
Then there was a clamor In the callow breast
Of the Vienna youth; for she was far
The sweetest blossom of 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 up, till Gabriel I'etersheim,
Whose ear this proclamation strange had reached,
Came rushing through the crowd, and boldly said:
"I am yonr daughter's suitor, and the one
She truly loves; but t-carce can gain a smile
Until I win her father's heart as well;
And you, old man, have frowued 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 flat; to yon,
Whether twas ever waved more gloriously."
And thes the old man answered: "Climb vour
way;
And If a sensefnl breeze should push yon off,
And break that raw and somewhat worthless neck,
I can not greatly mourn; but cllnrb your way,
And yon shall have the girl if yon succeed."
Sigh on the giddy pinnacle next day
Waited the youth; but not tilt evening's sun
Marched from the western gates, that tardy king
Bode past the church. And though young Gabriel's
nerves
Were weakened by fatigue and want of food,
Be pleased the people's and the monarch's eye,
flahed a deeper thrr'J of love through one
Who turned her sweet face often np to him,
And whose true heart stood with hiin on the tower.
Now. when the kingly pageant all bad passed,
Be folded np the flag, undwith prouJ smiles
And pronder heart prepared him to descend.
Bat 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
cling
Was left alone to live there, or to die.
Gnssing the trnth, or shadow of the truth.
Be smiled at first, and said: "Well, let them voice
Their jealousy by such a paltry trick!
They langhed an hour; my laugh will longer be!
Their joke will soon be dead, and I released."
But an hour, and two others, slowly came,
And then he murmnreil: "This Is no boy's sport;
It is a silent signal, which means 'Death!'"
Be shouted, bnt no auswer came to him,
Kot even an echo, on that lofty perch.
He waved his hands in mute entreaty, but
The darkness crept between him and his friends.
A half-honr seemed an age, and still he clung,
ne 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 I should not be feebly clinging here,
Is there not 'monggt those thousands one kind
heart
To help me? or must I come back to you
Crashing my wsy hrough grim, untimely death?"
Rich sounds of mirth came faintly but no help.
Another hour went by, and still he clung.
Be braced himself against the rising breeze.
And wrapped the flag around his shivering form,
And thus he prayed unto the merry winds :
Oh, breeze, you bear no tale of truer love
Than I can give yon at this lonely neight !
Tell bnt my danger to the heart I serve,
And she will never rest till I am free !"
The winds pressed hard against him as he clung.
And well-nigh wrenched him from that scanty
hold.
Bat made no answer to the piteous plea.
Bour after hour went by, and still he hold
Weak, dizzy, reeling to h:s narrow perch.
It was a cU ar and queenly summer night ;
And every star seemed banging from the sky.
As f twere bending down to look at him.
And thns he prayed to the far-shining stars:
HJh, million worlds, peopled perhaps like this,
Can you not see me, clinging helpless here?
Can yon not flash a message to some eve.
Or throw your influence on some friendly brain
To rescue me 7" A million sweet-eyed stars
Gave smiles to the beseecher, but no help.
And so the long procession of the night
Marched slowly by, and each scarce hoar was
hailed
By the great clock beneath: and still he clung
Unto the frail preserver of his life, a
And held, not for his life, but for his love
Held while the spiteful breezes wrenched at him ;
Held while the chills of midnight crept through
him:
While Hope and Fear made him their battle
ground,
And ravaged fiercely through his heart and brain.
Be moaned, he wept, he prayed again; be
Grown desperate and half raving In his woe
To everything in earth, or air, or sky ; ,
To the fair streets, now still and silent grown :
To the cold roofs, now stretched twixt him and
neip;
To the dumb, distant bills that heedless slept ;
To the white clonds that slowly fluttered past;
To his lost mother In the sky above ;
And then he prayed to God.
About that time
The maiden dreamed she saw her lover, faint.
Clinging for life ; and with a scream uprose.
And rushed to the old sexton's yielding door,
Granting no peace to him until he ran
To find the truth, and give the boy release.
An hour ere sunrise he came feebly down.
Grasping the flag, and claiming his fair prize.
Bnt what a wreck to win a blooming girl !
His cheeks were wrinkled, and of yellow hue.
Bis eyes were sunken, and his curling hair
Gleamed white as snow upon the distant Alps.
Bat the yonng maiden clasped his weary head
In her white arms, and soothed him like a child;
And said, MYon lived a life of woe for me
Up on the spire, and now look old enough
Even to please my father ; bnt soon I
Will nurse you back Into your youth again."
And soon the tower bells sung his wedding
song. . . .
The old-vonng man was happy : and they botn.
Cheered y the well-earned bounty or the king,
lived many years within Vienna's gates.
Will CarUton,in Harper' Magazine,
PAYING HER DEBT.
It was a very poorly furnished room in
a cottage 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, and 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
downcast.
Young as they were they 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 friend3, and seeking
none.
Madge was the braver nt the two,
meeting their reverses with quiet cour
age, and bringing energy, 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.
"I'll stay here until you are sure of
success, Jack," she said, when he urged
her to join him, "and keep a home for
you in case that you should need one."
"Do you call this hole a home?" he
asked, bitterly, and she only smiled and
answered :
"A shelter, then."
But she was not smiling when she sat
at the Sunday breakfast, eating little,
brooding sadly, until suddenly she
cried
"Jack, we must do something. Think
what we owe Tom King."
"Owe him! I believe we have paid
him every farthing," said Jack, sharply.
"We have paid him the money, I
know ; but we can never pay him what
we owe him still."
"Bah! Don't be so sentimental,
Madge."
" Common gratitude is not sentiment
alone, Jack. Jack," she 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 Korked
and starved and perished, until every
shilling of the money was in Tom King's
pocket again?"
"I know! I know I But think how
he helped you and me to get our situa
tion in the mills, and how delicately he
made the loans of money. And now,
oh, Jack, I must do something 1"
"What can you do? If Tom King
chose to lose his money in speculating,
how are you 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! Don't 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 the service there,
she was thinking of what she owed Tom
King.
When her mother, crushed by the
death of her husbanJ, 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 she re
garded with the affectionate respect she
would have given her father, but with
that same reverence she loved him deep
lv. And when the whole town knew
that Tom King lay in the Newtown hos-
pital.sick and penniless, the whole noble,
grateful heart of Madge Morgan went out
to him.
Many stories reached her. He had
made a fort uno and lost it; he had in
vested in mines, and the mines had
failed and ruined hina; he had been en
gaged, according to the Newtown gos
sips, in a dozen different speculations,
winning vase sums only to lose tnem
nut 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,"
sue said. I
Only a grunt answered her, but she
would not be p"t 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
Morgan came up to "the ward with a
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, taking the
wasted hand extended to her, and Tom
King wondered if ever two words held
so much as those two.
"Why, Madge," ho said presently,
"do not leei so baaiy, rm gaming every
day. The doctor says he will have mo
on my feet in a week, and I'm going
abroad again."
"Again I When you have been to un
fortunate there."
"Eh? Oh, I see!" with an odd look
in his eyes; "you've been 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,' anxious not to
hurt his pride, "and some day when you
are rich you can return it."
"Yes! I seel Have you got it with
vou?'
"I thought I would bring it with
me," 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
had sent it to her. Tom King laid it
on the broad palm of his hand and
stroked it tenderly.
"All your wealth, Madge?" 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 Dut monotonous,
as if he was reading a story there :
"When I went away nearly three years
agr,"heaid, "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 of a child, who was
forced into premature womanhood by
trouble. She was utterly unconscious of
my Jove, but I knew I could not hide it
if I stayed beside her. Out of her sight,
iar irom the sound of her voice, tho
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. Providence 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 heart, 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."
"mil 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 never
have it again, Madge."
"I am content," she answered.
And even Jack was satisfied; some
thing of his sullen temper being lost
when he once more found himself on the
road to prosperity.
Diet of the Monkey.
Dr. Allison, a London physician, has
been making experiments on a monkey.
He says: "borne time ago l bought a
rhesis monkey, intending to study his
habits. He is about eighteen inches
high, and tame. I feed 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, Peas 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 cools 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 as more solid articles ; in
fact, the superfluous fluid they contain
must be absorbed before digestion' goes
on. Every food I offered him wa3 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 less rotten cheese, high game, etc.,
than we do, and consume more delicious
fruits, whose aroma naturally attracts us.
He is a nose breather, and I never saw
him breath once through hi3 mouth
another good example which mankind
might follow with benefit, as we natur
ally are nose-breathers." Herald oj
Health.
A Queer Epitaph.
There is an epitaph of an eccentric char
acter that may be seen on a tombstone at
tho burving grounds near Hoosick Falls,
N. Y. "It reads:
"Ruth Sprague, Daughter of Gibson and
Elizabeth Sprague. Died June 11, 184(5, aged
9 years, 4 months and 3 days.
"She was stolen from the grave by Roder
ick R. Clow, dissected at Dr. P. M. Arm
strong's office, in Hoosick, N. Y., from wbicb
place ner mutilated remains were ootaineu
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 sixwhite 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. Tho size and arrange
ment of stars is a mere matter of taste.
TIMELY TOPICS.
i5octor Carlos Farcmba, 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 5,026,281, while in 1S82 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 Swis3 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
sold 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 tnd plants
to mature. The wood is consequently
soft and sappy, and the fruit watery and
tnsipid. 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
B, 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 160 women and fifty men
ire 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 quzrt sacks
ind 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,
ind 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 bo 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 Amercanized and rebelled. This
f oread 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 timo 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 ministry of agriculture, the
law which has been passed within tho
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 Leui
ville, Ky., gentleman calls attention ts,
the fact that negroes hardly ever take
their own lives. Although a great many
of them are hard up from the day oi
their birth to the day of their
death, they seldom become melan
choly, and it is- only among courtesans,
that" suicides occur. Notwithstanding
meir complaints oi nard 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
DromDted to do so throno-ri Tinnonf Koinn.
struck by political lightning or of a ric&
relative dying, but hang on simply foi
the fun they will have. The higher we
advance in civilization the less we serm .
tq value our opportunities for fun, and
give our mind wholly to serious and
mighty matters. As the jovial and con
vivial elements ot our nature die out they
are replaced by melancholy and ennui
the tendencies of which are to death.
According to the New York Herald
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 ba
more likely to spread than in another
year, but the condition has no necessary
relaticn to the presence of that malady.
But diseases dependent in any degree-
upon atmospheric causes are worse in
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. .
An interesting series of mam ehowine.
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
ouebec; followed the water routes-
westward to Buffalo, Detroit and Chica
go; went down the Mississippi, and did
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, makes
this statement: In 1832 there were 2,96&
deaths from cholera in New York, 385
in Albany and 6,000 in New Orleans.
In 1849 678 persons died of cholera in
Chicago, 953 in St. Louis. 1,400 in Cin
cinnati. In 1866 '1,200 died in New
York, 990 in Chicago, 8,500 in StLouis, .
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 madfr
such havoc as this frightful scourge.
Speech by.Sislit.
Not long since the ilirrcr recorded
experiences in what it entitled " Lir
Reading" Which in a more complicated
form appears to have been a subject of
special culture. I he 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 e, 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..
New York Mirror.
Ye arniug for the Unattainable.
One who will recognize me when I anv
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
dollar without requiring twenty dollars'
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 Pout.
Newspaper men in Louisiana have t
pay a $5 license.
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