A 3Q... , ' .;: Wat’s gfifi‘a‘wéégufi‘fi ! t g l. I l l l l l l ! bid her go forth and never show her face to me again!” . “ Who will go to call her?” asked a member. “That will I do,” said Simon Blossom, “and I will speak ently to her, for while I doubt not brave Abij Dart believes all that he hath told us, I, for one, give no credit to that drunken wretch, Sam Boggs. He never draws a sober breath when he can beg, buy or steal rum to ur down his hoggish throat.” “ Hold the council together, deacon—I will soon return and bring the maiden With me.” “We will wait,” said the deacon. “And go you, Abijah Dart, to the jail and get an armed guard, ofilcered and strong in numbers. Let them occupy the room in which this man Mon- trose is now laying wounded, as I hear, and never lose sight of him one second until we are ready for his trial. “That seen to, first of all, then secure and bring the man Boggs here to testify to all he knows. “ I need not tell you to make haste—you will not tarry in doing all your duty. I shall know no rest, no peace, till all this is over—perhaps not then!” The deacon tried to give his orders firmly— but his voice was weak and low and tears were coursing down his cheeks while he spoke. Simon Blossom and Abijah went out together, each upon his separate errand. Silent and sad, too much oppressed with the grief of their unhappy president to talk, the other members kept silent in their seats. It was not far from the Town Hall to the man- sion of the deacon, but nearly a half-hour passed before Simon Blossom returned. He entered with Sally Ann leaning on his arm heavily, as if she had scarce strength to stand. Her face was white as new—drifted snow and she did not raise her eyes, except with one wild glance around the room to see who was there. “ Sit down, my child! We will not question thee till all the rest are here.” It was the deacon who spoke, almost choking with the effort to be calm. In silence she obeyed. Almost a half-hour more went by. The jail in a distant part of the city required a longer walk to reach it, go to the house of Boggs and thence return. Then, suddenly, rapid footsteps were heard outside. Every member of the council rose and gazed eagerly toward the door. Abijah Dart, breathless from haste, rushed in- to the room. “ The risoner, Montrose, has escaped!” he cried. “ [1 company with Jennie Boggs he has fled from the town! They were seen together in a chaise! The husband—waking from a drunken stupor says he saw and tried to stop them—he is coming close at hand under guard, for I would not trust him.” CHAPTER XXV. THE ORDEAL—GOLD THROUGH THE FIRE COMES OUT GOLD STILL. EVEN while Abijah Dart was speaking, be- tween two armed guards, Sam Boggs staggered into the room. “ How did that man escape? Speak, Sam Boggs, and tell the truth .’ If you helped him off, we’ll swing you in his place!” cried the deacon. “ I didn’t, so help me—I DIDN’T ! I went home pretty full and had words with my woman and she was goin’ to thrash me like she often does. But I pulled my bayonet and told her I’d stick her if shedid, and she cooled down and I went to sleep on a lounge. 1 don’t know how long I laid there afore I heard a whisperin’ in the hall, and I started up and I just seen him and her a-put— tin’ out o’ the back door! I hollered for ’em to stop and put arter ’em fast as I could, but she had him out in the alley a-liftin’ him into a chaise as I got there. I made a grab for her as she jumped in, and tore half her gown away a-tryin’ to hold her. But she put the gad on the horse, and he jumped and the wheel hit me and knock— ed me eend over eend, and they went a—gallop- in’ of! I don’t know where. And she took ever dollar there was in the house—almost a ban — trunk full 0’ gold pieces!” “ Guards—take Sam out in the fresh air and walk him around till he sobers u . Keep within call, for we’ll want to question him further when he is fit to talk!” The guards wheeled, and with Sam between them retired from the room. As soon as the doors closed, Simon Blgssom rose and said: “ Deacon—l move that without a question, till she is all through, your daughter here tells us in her owu way, all she knows, or has known of this man Montrose from first to last—describes each meeting and what occurred at it, from the beginning! And if she don’t show that she is a pure and true woman, without flaw or reproach —I’ll eat In ' boots right before you all!” Thus spo e Simon Blossom, and the deacon, bowing his head, said: “ I am willing. Sally—dear child, go on. And tell the truth, if it breaks my heart!” She bowed her head, and without rising spoke so all in the room heard every word. “ I first saw Captain Montrose on his frigate, the Galatea, when I risked mv life to save the lives of Abijali and Elnathan Dart. If I spoke to him then at all, it was to refuse a glass of wine he offered me in the presence of the admi- ral and his officers. “The next time was when my father intro- duced a Sergeant Trefo-il to me and my mother at our supper-table. After supper my father went out on business, leaving me alone with his guest and visitor, not mine, my mother being in and out of the room often—busied in her house- hold duties. This supposed sergeant began tell— ing romantic stories of his adventures, and af- ter a while branched off into com liments upon my beauty and talking in a way did not like. I rebuked his boldness in as modest a way as I could, not wishing to offend a man my father had introduced into his house. “ He rew bolder, and kneeling down, seized my ban and kissed it, vowing love in passion- ate terms. He angered me so much that I struck him full in the face and knocked off his false beard. Then I knew himo—called him a spy and a scoundrel for daring to speak of love to an American irl, whom he knew to be betrothed to one of t e men whom she had saved from a shameful death on his own ship. At that moment you, my father, announced that the Terror had come in and a boat had been captured with Englishmen on board. You then hurried off. He crying out he was lost, that if taken his life was forfeit, declared he was no spy, only his mad love for me, seen, as he said, on his ship in beauty and distress. had made him run the risk of life and liberty. While never for an instant swerving from my own truth, I piticd him, told him where to hide from present search and how to find the boat in which he escaped. If pit y is a crime and mercy to a hunted man a wrong, then am I criminal and wron l “ Since then I have seen him three times. First, when I carried wine and broth to all the wounded prisoners alike—not dreaming of see— ing him. I held but a word of converse with him, and it was to bid him never to speak to me again. “ Next when I was asked to go with Mrs. Dalrymple and her daughters to visit him as their friend, in their company, and I had not a word to say to him that I remember now. “ Third and last, I went at request of Captain Dart, with Alice Dalrymple, who is engaged to marry him, to his room as her companion. did not speak to him, but left them alone the few minutes she was there—then with her came awa . ' “ ynd now, as the Father above hears what I say, never by word or look, by thought or ac- tion, have I exhibited love or even interest for this man whose name is before you. Never for one second have I been untrue to the only love I ever knew!” “ Oh, Sally—Sally—how cruel I have been! Forgive— 'orgive me I” And A ijah, with streaming eyes, reached out his arms toward her. “ Silence—Abijah Dart! Speak never again to me. You have brought shame upon my name before these good and noble men. You have made my own father doubt his child. You listened to the foul mouthings of a drunkard, and in my wild despair would not let me 5 eak to defend myself from your cruel taunts. on, even you, have doubted the heart that never throbbed with love that was not all your own. If I forgave, I never could forget! Go your way, as I go mine ! Henceforth we meet no more!” “ Father of mercy! It is too much! I cannot bear it and live l” groaned the unhappy man, as he bowed down his head and wept. “ Doth any of the council wish to question the witness further?” asked the deacon in a low and tremulous voice. No one answered. All were still for a time, and then Simon Blossom spoke up and said: “ All of you councilmen but me are husbands and fathers! You know what pride you take in those you love! I am like a lone bark on a wide, wide sea—no kith or kin to love. But if I had a child so pure and brave, so good and true, so spotless in all that makes the name of WOMAN bright and holy, as this child of yours, Jasper Doolittle, I would hold her more precious than all the gems that ever shone on earth—as the greatest treasure ever Heaven gave to man! “ I move, first, that we offer a reward of one thousand pounds for Arthur Montrose, deliver— ed to us dead or alive. “ Second, declaring that not a shade of evil obschre the fair fame of this brave girl, made evident by a story no one can gainsay, we escort her home in a body, and at her parents’ door ex— press our belief that in all New England her eqogsl”cannot be found in all things pure and g . The deacon wept with joy as the motions were carried without debate, without dissent. And poor Abijah—wild with grief, went to his home alone, while Sam Boggs, discharged with- out any further questions, returned to his house —for once its master—for he also was alone. In a body the council went to the Doolittle mansion, the deacon, side by side with his honor- ed child, too glad to s k. She had met every charge With the holy truth—she had faced the worst and come out from the ordeal nobly justi- fied even in her mercy to a man whom she did not know to be a spy until long after her pity had saved his life. CHAPTER XXVI. AFLOAT IN A LEAKY BOAT—TERRIBLE TRIAL. AWAY—away from the shouting fiend, who almost tore the garments from her slender form, lashing the horse into its utmost speed, Jennie Boggs dashed along the dark and narrow street in which she had left the chaise, toward the open country northward of the town. Montrose, so weak she had almost to carry him in her flight from the house, sunk back in the roomy chaise, groaning as it bounded along, wrenching his wounded form and almost shak— ing life from his bruised and shattered “ )We must not pause a second, dear Arthur, for that brute will spread the alarm, and pur- suit at once he made. ’ “ Go on—go on!” he said. “I will not mur— mur. no matter how I suffer. Go on until we can strike some little port, some river or bay u on the ocean—side, and find a boat. Get me agoat, only once afloat, where I am at home upon the sea, and we are saved!” “ I will!” was her answer, as she struck a road leading toward Gloucester on the sea. Still at a gallop, rushing madly on, she kept the road almost as much by chance as skill, leaving Salem and its dangers in the rear at every jump. Mile after mile, leagues now on leagues, until the tired horse lagged and could scarcely keep a feeble trot. Night had passed swiftly apace and day was not far away, when their road bending eastward came so near the sea they could hear, the sound of breaking waves upon the rocks. “ It is music to my ear l” said Montrose, faint with fatigue. “ There is a house—it is a fisher- man’s hut, I think—there are nets before the door. Sto see if we cannot hire or buy, or, if we must, TAKE a bdat!” Jennie Boggs reined in the panting horse, which could scarcely move faster than a walk, before a low hovel hardly fit to be called a house. The gray of dawn was looming like a mist over the water to the east, as she leaped to the ground and called aloud before the door, if any one lived in the place to come out. An answer, gruff and short, was heard—a light was seen a moment later through great cracks in the wretched hut, and an old man came to the door, clad in garments that hung in rags about his bent form. “ What d’ye want?” he growled, in a surly tone. “ th0 calls old Sandy Grant tip from a bed of misery and pain?” “ A man and woman who are on an errand of life and death !”she said. “ Our horse is broken down. We want a boat to take us on to Gloucester by sea! W'e have gold, and will pay well for what we ask !” “ My boat is old and leaky. My bones are racked with rheumatic pains. I cannot go. My only boy was taken off by the aecursed British almost a year ago, and I am alone!” “ Keep our horse and chaise here! Let us take your boat and go, and we will leave a handful of gold in her place till we bring her back. Here—see I” And Jennie handed out a purse all full of shining gold and held it in front of his wrinkled face. “ The boat is there—take her and go. Lead your horse to yonder shed. Gloucester is but a few miles up the coast—take the old boat and O 1” And the man clutched the purse and laughed as be weighted the coin in his trembling, shriv— eled hands. Drinking some wine from a flask she carried, Montrose, leaning on her arm, tottered down a shelving beach to a narrow cove, where an old shallop, with one mast and an old patched sail, lay moored to a rude pier of rotten logs. “ It is a wretched t in , but better than noth- ing. \Ve will take it an go,” said Montrose, as he crawled into the stern. “ Wait till I go back and get my gold; it is in the chaise and a bottle of wine anda little food,” she said. “ Make haste, dear girl, day is coming fast and we must be out at sea with speed. If we are pursued and seen this wretched craft would do little toward carrying us out of danger.” She hurried back, get her little trunk of gold chaise when getting ready for their flight. “ Push off, dear, then pull on the rope that hangs beside the mast there and it will hoist the sail,” said Montrose, who had the tiller in his hand ready to steer her out to sea as soon as way would make her feel the helm. “She leaks, but there’s a bailin’-pot in the bilge. Steer her due east till ye clear the p’int, then haul up for Round Rock shoal. Leave it to port—make Norman’s Woe ahead and steer right in to town!” This was what the Old man screeched as on crutches he came down to see them off. By this time the sail was up and began to draw, and with the wind almost astern the boat crept slowly out from shore. Faster—413 they left the land, for the breeze freshened and the old boat creakcd and groaned like a troubled spirit as the water roughened and the wind strained the wretched sail and poor old mast. Montrose did not refuse when Jennie poured him out a hearty draught of wine into the old battered tin she found. It was the “ bailin — ot ” old Sandy Grant had spoken of. He ma e or take some also. Then he bade her look around the boat to see if a compass could be found—water, provisions, what might be needed yet. She found no compass. A small keg of water, some fish-hooks and lines, a pipe and a black lug of tobacco, which last he bade her cast in- g) the sea, since he had no use for stuff like that. An old hat and coat of oiled canvas, a pair of and the wine and lunch she had put in the - sea—boots half worn out—that was all that she , could discover. “ It is a poor fit-out for a voyage, but I pray Heaven ours may not be a very lengthy one. You’ll have to hail the water out, my dear, I pretty often, for, as the old man says, she leaks, l and badly, too.” Montrose tried to speak cheerfully. He was heading all the while for the open sea—not for Norman’s \Voe, or any other headland—but out, so he could shape a course which in time would carry him to the fleet—his only hope. Brave and unshrinking, her eyes bright with love for the man she had risked all to save, the woman threw the water from the leaky boat, and when she saw the spray dash in upon his shrinking form, she wrapped the old sea-coat :bout him and laughed at the odd look it gave 1m. For her own discomfitureuall too lightly clad for the chilling dampness of the wind, she had no complaint to make, though he could see she suffered. . Out further and further on the sea—no sails in Sightr—«he began to feel hopeful once again, for if not soon pursued, they would not be seen from shore, and could take a course that would trend toward his only point of safety. On, still on—the Wind freshening until he feared the mast and sail would bear no more, and then the shore could scarce be seen so far was it astern. Now steering by the sun, already past meri- dian hight, he headed southward, bringing the wind almost abeam. The poor old boat reeled and tumbled along now, and, too weak to do it himself, Montrose had to tell Jennie how to reef down the sail, for the boat had more than she could bear when the sheet was drawn aft and the sail flattened in. She leaked faster too, and Jennie kept warm with labor and cheerful too, for he told her that one-half day and night on that course, even at their slow rate of speed ought to take them to the vicinity where he hoped to find the fleet. It was almost night. The boat rose and fell on great heaving seas, groaning and creaking as if she would fall apart, but no worse than when they started in the poor worn—out hulk. But the wind, now drawing eastward, came more fresh and so cold that it seemed beyond endurance. Poor Jennie Boggs in her haste had brought no wraps—as he boasted, her husband had torn full half her outer dress from her form, and now wet with spray, for she forced the oil- coat upon the wounded captain, she shivered as with an ague. He alone knew how to steer and to care for the main sheet, which led to a cleat by his side aft, and these duties were all he could do in his exhausted, wretched state. Night was on them now. Half water-logged, having to bail every half-hour at least, the boat plunged on, heading southward as well as he could by stars seen now and then through rifts in the black, smokin clouds. Almost perishing, ennie Boggs shared the last of the wine with the captain, and now without food or any drink but some stale water in a lil- thy keg, they drove over the angry Sea. “ Oh, Arthur—I believe that we shall perish. I am like ice from head to foot—I can scarcely move!” “ There is but one way for us to bear this bit- ing blast any longer!” was his answer, for he was shivering too, better covered though he was. “ Get the two oars and bring me the end of the painter, the long rope fastened to an iron staple in the bow of the boat.” With difficulty, weak, exhausted, numb with cold, she obeyed. Knotting the rope around the cars in the middle, be cast them over the side for a drag, put the helm alee and brought the boat head to wind. Then he had Jennie lower the sail and draw its coarse folds over them both to break the wind and spray. The boat rode more easy head to wind and sea, the drag acting like an anchor, and once more their bodies felt a little warmth as they crouched under the canvas covering. They were very weak and faint—they could not sleep, and often poor Jennie had to bail the boat, for the water gained too fast to be neg- lected long. “ Arthur—I used to think it would be fearful hard to die—wretched though I was, tied to a brutal sot, and struggling to make a livelihood almost for both. But here, on the lonely sea, with you by my side, I could die without a sigh breaking from my lips.” "Don’t talk of death, Jennie! It makes me shudder, seaman as 1 am. “'e will come out all right yet. Though not under sail we are driving before wind and sea upon our course. The fleet cannot be many miles away. If we can hold up another day we‘ll sight some ship and be saved.” “ I pray Heaven, yes,” she murmured, as she nestled down under the canvas out of the bitter coldness of the wind. It seemed to them as if the night had no end —day was so long coming. But at last, gray and dismal, no sun in sight, day came. And away on their lee—so far they could just see it when the boat rose to the crest of the huge waves, was land. “ Do you think you can stand the cold, Jennie, if we take in the drag and try and make sail once more .3” Montrose asked this when looking all around —no sign of a ship in sight, he felt that they must soon find help or perish. “ I am so weak I do not think I could pull in those oars—I fear I could not even raise the sail.” Her voice, low and tremulous, told how near— ly gone was the ower which had sustained her so far in her wor . “ Then we will drift on and trust to Provi- dence, for I cannot move my stiffened limbs—I am be] less as a creeping child.” Hardly able, when the water up about their feet told that bailing must be done, poor Jennie slowly lifted it out again and again. Nearer and nearer the land rose now—their drift was toward the worst of all dangers to a seaman’s eye—a Ice shore. Faint—no food or drink—nature yielding to the strain, both of the weary ones fell asleep! Not the sleep of: rest. Horrible fancies came in dreams, and Montrose woke shrieking: “ Cast off the rope! Cast off the rope! I’ll not be hung f” The boat was half full of water, and Jennie sprung to find the bailing-cup, which was afloat. “ Oh, Arthur, what is that :’”she cried, point- ing ahead with a shaking hand. “A ship—thank Heaven—a ship!” he cried, and striving to rise, he fell forward helpless on the gunwalc of the boat. “ A ship—a ship!”she screamed. be saved and live and love together!” She staggered to his side, with the energy of despair lifted his form from the narrow plank on which it lay, dashed water in his face and brou ht back the consciousness he had lost. “ e are seen—there is a boat upon the wa- ter!” she gasped: then she broke down and fell at his feet in a swoon so like death, he dared not look into her face a second time. “W'ho are youl—where are you from?" he asked, feebly, when he saw men in uniform bending over to lift him up. “ A boat from his Majesty’s sloop-of—war Corinne!” was the answer—scarcely heard, for he was fainting when they spoke. (To be continued—wornmenced in No. 172.) “ lVe will LIEUTENANT OWEN, in “Camp and Battle,” says that when the Confederate army marched throu h Frederick no one knew of the “Bar— bara rietchie” incident, but there was one in- cident that they did know of. “ On a small gallery stood a buxom young lady, with laugh— ing black eyes, watching the scene before her. On her breast she had pinned a small flag, the Stars and Stripes. This was observed, and some soldier sung out: ‘Look hyar, miss, better take that flag down; we’re awful fond of charg- ing breastworksl’ This was carried d0wn the , line amid shouts of laughter. The little lady~ laughed herself. but stood by her colors.” Personal Mention. MANITEE, Mich., has an orchestra composed of fourteen young women. MARCUS MAYER has told a Chicago News re- porter that Mary Anderson’s receipts for her season of thirty-two weeks will reach $300,000. PROFESSOR MARIA MITCHELL, of Vassar Col- lege, favors outdoor employment for women, and advises them to take up land-survey ing for a business. MODJESKA, Fanny Davenport and Sara J ewett are all fond of children. Sara J ewett frankly confesses, however, that she likes to kiss only the pretty ones. i A COLORED woman, Miss Carrie Bragg, is ed- itor of the Virginia Lancet, published in Peters- burg, Va.—the only newspaper in the Union conducted by a colored woman. A YOUNG woman fills the position of baggage mistress, station agent and telegraph operator at Chesterville, Illinois, and, in addition, finds time to run a lumber-yard and a dairy. SARAH WINNEMUCCA, the Piute Princess, has built a school-house at Lovelock, N ev., where twenty-five little Piutes are learning toread and write free of all expense. They are said to be very bright scholars. EDISON’S patents have now become so numer- ous that they have a special series of index or reference numbers in the Patent Office—the only casein which such a separation from the gen— eral Index has been thought necessary. ALBERT VICTOR EDWARD, eldest son of the Prince of Wales, is described as a shy, pale, boyish-looking young fellow, who doesn’t look his twenty—two years. He is devotedly attached to his mother, whom he resembles in character and features. COMTE DE ST. VALLIERE, the French states— man who died lately. had for twenty years, in consequence of a disorder of the stomach, lived exclusively on milk, of which, during his splendid dinner parties, he sipped glasses. He put Jake Sharp up to the dodge. ON the 4th of July last, W. E. Hermance started from Livingston, Montana, in a canoe, to paddle to New Orleans. His brother, H. P. Hermance, joined him at Kansas City, and on Washington's birthday the two young men reached New Orleans safely. They had traveled down the Yellowstone, the Missouri, and the Mississippi rivers, a distance of 4,500 miles, in a canoe fifteen feet long. GREENVILLE, Pennsylvania, points with pride to Magdalen Miller, who is 90 years old and the mother of twelve children. then young, she was as vigOIous as a man, and could shoulder three bushels of wheat. During the graveyard insurance craze, she was insured for over $100,— 000, and has outlived all the companies. To the great discomfiture of all Mr. 'l‘rask’s theories, however, she has smoked tobacco for more than seventy years. Casual Ment ion. 1N forming an idea what IVest means, it is stated that in the region west of the MisSISsippi 351 States the size of Massachusetts could be placed. A NEVADA man who lives near “'innemucca is looking for his house, which somebody has stolen outright. He offers $150 reward for the arrest of the house-thief. THE extinction of the deer in northern Michi‘ gan, one of their few remaimng strongholds, will soon be accomplished. Many thousands of car- casses are being shipped from that region. AN English paper says that the Hindoos are complaining about the poor quality of idols fur— nished them by the Birmingham manufacturers. 'fiheédols are too ugly for even the most devout In 00. BEAvERs on Fall Creek, near Wellington, Kansas, have cut down 100 trees this winter, some of them eighteen inches in diameter, float- ed some of the logs nearly a mile down the stream, and built a complete dam across the creek. STATURE, as connected with heredity, has re- cently been investigated by Francis Dalton, and among his first results is the inference that the hight of children of both sexes, but es- pecially that of the daughters. takes after that of the father. A BOSTON writer declares that there is more nutriment ina dark than in a white-shelled egg. The glair of a white-shelled egg is like milkbf— lime water, while that of dark eggs has sub— stance, is gelatinous in appearance, and will hold together if lifted a few inches, and, it is claimed, is one—third more valuable for any culinary purpose. LADY physicians in France are in high spirits just now. One of their number, Mme. Sar- rante, has been appointed by M. Turquet, the Under Secretary of State at the Beaux Arts, to be one of the official physicians attached to the National Opera House in Paris. Such a dis- tinction has never been gained by a lad y doctor in France before. A GREAT red granite statue has been discov- ered ten miles away in the desert near Alexan- dria, in Egypt. It represents the famous Pha- raoh, who was responsible for all the Egyptian plagues, and on one Slde of it is a statue of a lit- tle baby, said to be that of the next Pharaoh, who perished in his rash attempt to drive through the Red Sea. It has been lying there 3,000 years. THERE is on the way from Alaska to \Vash- ington a cane for President Cleveland. It was made by Dick, the native policeman of Sitka, and is of yellow cedar, skillfully carved. The carving represents the history and traditions of the bear family, that animal being the “ totem” of the Kahtwatons, the most numerous of the two Indian families that constitute the popula- tion of Sitka village. It is finished with a fer- ule of Alaska gold. ONE of the workmen in the bluestone quarries on the Lackawaxen river kee )5 his family well supplied with duck meat. e sets ordinary steel rat-traps baited with fish, whenever he finds an open, shallow spot in the ice-bound river. The ducks go there to swim and hunt for food, see the fish under the water, dive for it, and get caught by the head, and a series of duck tails sticking out of the water mark the spots where they died. WHAT wouldn’t the average New York boy give if his pa would only send him to the Fort \Vrangel training-school in Alaska. The news- paper of that place says that the boys of the school last year killed for the use of the institu- tion 1'21 deer, 11 seals, one bear, about 150 wild geese, over 300 ducks, and numerous grouse. porcupines, marinots, and snipe, and caught all the salmon, halibut, codfish, trout, herring, flounders, crabs and clams they needed. A CURIOUS and noteworthy statement has been published in regard to the great river Euphrates. It appears that this ancient river is in danger of disappearing altogether. Of late years the banks below Babylon have been giving way so that the stream spread out into a marsh until steamers could not pass, and only a narrow channel remained for native boats. Now this passage is becoming obliterated, with the probable result that the famous river will be swallowed up by the desert. W'IDE-AWAKE Georgians who really want to drink fire—water almost always succeed in satis— fying their wants, notwithstanding the prohibi— tion movement in that State. A countryman rode into Athens the other day, and soon his horse showed every sym tom of being very ill. He lay down and roll , and seemed to be in pain. A doctor was called, who gave a pre— scription that included a uart of whisky. Hav— ing got the Whisky, the eorgian spoke to the horse. which at once jumped to his feet and made off with his master on his back. Popular Poems. ————— THE MARCH WIND. I come from the haunts of mount and lake, I make a sudden sally, And send the small boy’s milkpail gay A-sailing up the alley. I paint the maiden’s nose with red, I send the leaves a-scooting, And make the fat man chase his hat With bellowing and hooting. From of! the line the clothes I blow, And e’en the line I sever, For dust may come and dust may go, But I go on forever.— Cleveland Graphic. --—:o:——- A WHIRL. No wonder that the world seems strange, And all the people in it ueer, For round and round it w irling goes Day after day, year after year. No wonder that the whirlwinds blow, And cyclones cleave their pathways drear, For earth and moon a-waltzing go Day after day, year after year. When age creeps on we long for rest; To pause amid this mad career And ask, “ Why need we waltz and whirl, Day after day, year after year?” But if our thoughts, like winding stair, Tend upward to a higher sphere, Then nobler, purer, shall we grow, Day after day, year after year. —Buston Transcript. '02 THE INOCUL ATION TREATMENT. Oh, the doctors now a look of wisdom wear, As with earnestness together they declare That the only sure salvation Is in quick inoculation, When a deadly scourge develops anywhere. They’ll inoculate for cholera, and when There’s diphtheria about they’ll out again: And, in saving you from harm, They will carve your upper arm Till you think you have escaped a lion’s den. Against hydrophobic. and fever, too, They will wisely undertake to poison you, And, it seemeth very c ear, In the future we shall hear Of this treatment for pure mania a potu. They will give it for sweet love’s consuming fire, For red-countenanced and eyeball-glaringire, And the evil of divorce They will cure by this, of course, And prevent the fabrications of the liar. ——0'olumbus Dispatch. :02 THE GOURD. The gallant knight in days of old Sung gayly flagon songs; The monarch drained his cup of gold And laughed his pcople’s wrongs; With goblets flowil g to the. brim, Bacchantes drank their wine. But no alluring rosy rim Brings song to harp of mine. The soldier loves his o‘d canteen, And sounds in song its praise. The lover toasts his mistress queen In wine-begotten lays; The soul of poesy‘s outpoured , Alike to cup and king, And all forgot the brown old gourd They drank from at the spring. There’s happiness in banquet halls, Amid the bright and gay, Whose brilliant song the soul enthralls And wit and wine hold sway. But all the joys in mem’ry stored No sweeter thought can bring a Than those of draughis from out the gourd, With Nell. beside the spring. —-De/wcr Republican. 302 THE LOST HEA RT. BY WILLIAM LYLE . I lost my heart, I kenna hoo, Maybe Igaed ower far a-roamin’, I micht hae kept it warm an‘ true, An’ stayed at hame, yon simmer gloamin’. The mune was speelin’ ower the Ben, The sun had gl‘en its pairtin‘ glimmer, \Vhen I forgathered. doon the glen Wi’ bonny Bell, the saucy kimmer. l She shuifed and sneered at my love tale, She shook her ribbons prood an’ airy I wad hae niffered Allandale, For just a love blink frae the fairy. Itaft had vowed I wad na fule. Or fash my heart wi' (my woman, But lash! I had na’ been at schule! Bell snapped it up you Simmer gloamin’. But what think ye has happened nool’ Bell could na’ cheat me a’ the gither, I vowed, before the vear was through, Gin I’d lost ane. I’d hae anither. The lane is lang that has nae turn—- I stole Bell’s heart, ye ken that’s common, An’ I hae ne’er had causa tae mourn. That 1 lost mine, yon simmer gloamin’. —P/2iladelphia Call. :0: NEVER AND FOREVER. BY EUGENE FIELD. In the morning Game the, warning— Aching head and furzy tcngue. Out the window thenI flung All my smoking apparatus And declared my present status Due to this, which nevermore I should use: no, nevermore. Came the morning! Softly crooning Zephvrs kissed the hoscage ripe— And I thought upon my pipe. “ Can it be there‘s harm in smoking?” Still. my strong resolve evoking, Said I: “ Nay, I will not how To thy tyranny—not now." In the gloaming I am roaming, Bowing ’neath the tvrant’s yoke; Chained with tin rings of smoke. Why should this evening borrow Pangs belonging to to-morrow, When I know that NeVermore Ever yields to Evermore? — Chicago News. 202 THE SPINSTER. She was a sour spinster, A woman of renown, Of vinegarish features And eVer present frown. She kept the girls on nettles, Likewise the boys the same—— Did this peculiar creature Of gossipadding fame. Her cellar it was laden With pickled things in jars: She constant was creating Among the neighbors wars. Her attic it was crowded With simples hung to dry; She said they would be useful—— Who knows? in by and by. The plague it came and smote them—— The people of the town; The spinster was an angel, For all her past renown. The doctors fled in terror, Fear-stricken from the place: God bless the ugly spinster Of vinegarish face! Her simples from the attic Kept down the flrebrand; And temples that were bursting Cooled underneath her hand. G d hlessthe dear old creature! Although her tongue was keen, To-day among the people She is their petted queen. -Boston Globe. V a.