BEYOND, Never a word 1s sald, But it trembles in the air, And the truant voice has sped, To vibrate everywhere; And perhaps far off in eternal yoars The echo may ring upon our ea Never are kind acts done To wipe the weeping eyes, Dut, like flashes of the sun, They signal to the skies; And up above the angels read How we have helped the sorer need. Naver a day is given, But it tones the after yoars, And it carries up to Heaven Its sunshine or its tears; : ‘While the to-morrows stand and walt, The silent mutes by the outer gate. here is no end to the sky, And the stars are everywhere, And the time is eternity, And the here is over there; For the common deeds of the common day Are ringing bells in the far away. TTR HIS A 4 FUL MISTAKE. Doctor Wilfried Atkinson and Dr. Frederick Read sat in a pleasant room in a city hotel chatting confidentially. twenty-five and thirty, and both were enthusiastic students of the noble pro- fession of medicine, They had pecome intimate at college, and a strong friendship existed that had Known no jar or break, It was Fred Read who said: “Y ou will accept this offer?” “Accept it?” crled his friend. should think so. It most in the world. You see, I have always been more interested in study of insanity than in any other made weekly vigits, gives me opportu- elsewhere,” “Yes; I know all that, but it will be very confining. I think I prefer gen- eral practice, after all. But yeu expect to see me often. miss you, old fellow!” And then the talk drifted into other channels, until Dr. Atkinson discovered where his new home snd field of duty lay. “You will come over often,” he ur- ged in parting from his friend; *‘and if I am busy or away, make yourself at home. The the patients, be sure those who are al- lowed to roam about inside the walls are harmless, touch that, and off they go. But the eyes tell the story.” “Yes; it is hard to hide it there ’ “And contradiction brings out the truth. As long as the delusions are humored they are generally amiable enough, but once cross the m-—whew!" «1 shall come over often and hear the results of your experience. My enor- mous practice takes about three hours a day.” In pursuance of this promise Doctor Read took the train abont once a week, and an hour or two with his friend, finding him generally busy, as his duties meluded a general superin- tendence of the asylum and details were quite in it of pr work. But Fred, with the place, friend’s interest in the study disorders, and would often sj roaming through the wards and grounds, with only a few words to Dr, Atkinson, It was June was voung, and the air soft and pleasant, that Doctor Read strolling about in the prettiest part of the grounils, saw a lady in a summer-house, whose face attracted him at once. It was a very vale face, and the large dark eyes were languid, while the slen- der figure seemed weak, as if from re- cent illness, But it was, too, a beautiful young face, shaded by waving brown hair, and with purely oval outline and regular features, “*A new patient,’ exclamation. **What a lovely face!” Then he sauntered over to the sum- ner house and spoke to the lady. To his consternation, she started, gave a quick gasping sub, and fainted, it was not a very long insensibility, spent & that lepende: as be became more fa share mental #1 hours 3 Wat ‘ MET Lid of x 1 i i when $ the large eyes opened, and she whis- pered: : I have been very ill, and you startled we! “f was very much to blame,’” he said penitently, “and I hope you will pardon me. Are you well enough now for me to run up to the house for a glass of wine?’ ' “I am well enough but I do not need it;’” and she sat up again, and took up a piece of needle-work that had dropped from her hands, bled, and a pretty flush came a moment into her pale face as she said: “ Are you one of the physicians here?" “Only by courtesy,” he replied. “I ey kipson is the physician, is the head doctor, but he does very little.” “Yes, 1 know! is it not? Out here, I mean! It is a lovely place, often dreadful, Dut the doctor at home thought a change of air would be good for me and so mamme sent me here.” “Ohange of air!” thought Fred. “syroor little thing! Quite unconscious of her infirmity." grounds, the songs of the birds in the trees around them, and so gradually drifting to books, to comparisons of opinion and criticism. And all through a delightful hour Fred vainly tried to discover the one point upon which the new patient was insane. Whatever it was evaded him, and he lookes as vainly for any wandering or vacancy in vhe soft brown eyes that met his own, full of intelligence. They were still conversing when one of the nurses came down the path lead- to the summer house, 0 “Miss Dessie,” the said, “Dr. Atk - son sent me to siy you had biftter le down for au hourfor two, and jhe has 1 | { i i LR es SRE sent some medicine to your room, Let me help you?” Dr. Read, being a physician, made no attempt to detain the fair patient, no- ting with sincere sympathy how weak she was, and how wearily she leaned upon the nurse's strong arm. He did not feel inclined to have any friend was wont to Indulge in when ladies were the subject, so he said noth- ing of his experience, and jomed Dr. Atkinson in his *‘rounds” without hint- ing at any desire to see one especial pa- tient—a desire not gratified, for there were only familiar faces in the wards, But the summer-house was soon found to be Miss DBessie’s resort. of trees, and provided with a rustic table and Here the young “Tha doctor said I must be in the She never classed herself with ing pityingly of those more heavily af- But this phase of mental delu- But Fred had not, when July closed, found out the delusion of the sweet lit- She had gained perfect health in the two months of quiet and open air; but while her eyes had lost their weary expression, they never stared or wandered, but only by the animation natural to inteér- In these two months Fred had scarce His superior in summer vacation, and a new wing was entire care of the house and the patients, the direction of the workmen, the work of selecting furmture, carpets and other | necessaries for the new building, the resident physician had scarcely a mo- ment to call his own, and Fred y i 1 Yr during fre- It was in July that Dr, Read sudden- woke to the appalling conviction at he was deeply in love with the in- nate of a lunatic um. He had deluded him with the thought that it was pity, professional interest, even curiosity, that drew him again and again to the summer-hou where he was sure meet a wan, if shy welcome, and where the hours flew by in utter content, But so simple a matter as the readi of a poem had opened his eyes to truth. It had become quite a common thing for him to read scraps of newspaper intelligence, little bits from one of the books on the table or a selection from a favorite work ght with him, while Bessie sewed knitted and li tened to him. And on this ie Jove-poein ly th 1 asyl self Ws . + LO he brou or $e particular July day he nestled iin 1 thet the lovely i alas! she returned | His first reproach, Ww b nental infirmity beautiful young creature an asylum? Would she forget him, or—dreadful possibility l—would the whole reason give way if he deserted her? tie scarcely knew how he reached home: but once there he mat down and looked the situation squarely in the face His own share of the affliction he put aside for the present, He was a man, and he could bear his trouble manfully. That he loved, where his love must die, was, in a great meas. ure, his own fault and foliy; but that he had won a pure sweet heart, oniy to | wound it, caused him bitter pain and | regret, . Long meditation brought him to one resointion: He must see Dr, Atkinson, make a clear confession, and have his opinion of the danger to be Anticipated, “He knows where the weakness 1 have to discover lies,”’ Fred thought, and be can tell me whether it is safest | to break off my visits suddenly or gra- dually.’ It was not an easy matter to eatch Dr. Atkinson, or, having caught him, to secure his attention, but something in Fred's troubled face aroused his friend’s anxiety, and he turned his back for the time upon his manifold duties and shut himself in his private office with Fred, At first he listened gravely enough, but as Fred proceeded his face became | more and more amused, until, to the ory was one of keen self. $30.4 4 1 AEE WO id caused # iis to be sent to “Oh, Fred said, *'it is funny, is it? I do not see it iu that light, Even if | his poor girl 18 insane 4 “Stop!’’ interrupted his friend; **don’t You really But Fred was too angry to answer, | “And she loves you—at least, you | think so-—antl you want to know if it is a curable case, and— Well, I will not torment you any more, Your charmer, Fred, is not a patient, nor, as far as I know, a lanatie."’ Fred gave a long sigh, but only look ed his eager questions, “She is my sister, Bessie Atkinson, from Syhoid fever, and is paying me a visit, I thought she was quite safe from intrusion in that summer-house, ns the attendants have orders to keep the pa- tients away from here, and 1 did not think of you. Dut since you have been prowling around so long, perhaps you had getter come now and be introduced in feftm, “me moment, Will. I have been a PURE, it seems, ln. takiug ber love fof | granted; but I have won it?” “I amh her eldest brother, and her father died years ago. I am quite sure that what 1 approve, my mother will | sanction, and you must know nothing | could please me better than to know Bessie has a lover I esteem so highly as I do you!” “And—you will not tell her—will you, my awful mistake?” *I can’t promise, secret, but,” and the doctor roared natic! Wall, there, I won't tell her, at all events, until you have told her some- thing far more interesting.’ Bessie Atkinson had been Bessie Read more than a year before she knew that her husband had ever considered her an interesting patient in a lunatic asylum, a a ee A a A Mandstorm. { then a deep yellow, and the sun became { disk, I perceived a cloud of sand roll- ing up from the west. ! was upon us, and I had to bury my face in my burnous to shield it from the cut- ting particles of sand, The camels floundered about, alah:” the whole caravan wag in a state of confusion. What track there had been previously was obliterated. drivers had lost was the ugly fact of very limited in quantity; and water in in the dessert means life, Moreover, my anaareh (litttey) slid off, and I was precipitated to the earth, miraculously escaping anything worse than a mere shaking. The distance between a camel’s hump and his feet 1s a respecta- ble one. Afterward I was placed for | additional security between two camels, slung athwart; but one was rather smaller than the other— they, therefore, did not, strictly speaking, keep step. The result was the most excruciating movement ever experienced, which combined with the bruises und abra- sions from the recent fall and a frame weakened by dysentery and an African climate, together with forbodhings as to our probable fate If we did not strike the track aga { a frame of mind f that ot Job's, We rested for ight, or rather a portion of it, nidst of these un- stable sands, and 1 was devoutly thank- ful to find my camei treading on fi ground next day wi we came plain of a similar nature to that we passed previous to wading th mounds of sand, | } removed 1 4 the 1F 3 ‘3 iL, in Lhe ar en rong ut at O-Bak is about is brackish and The wells are small the sand, with wooden ur The wells are constantly fill- ing, and new ones being'sunk. Betore reaching this station we passed many graves of those who had perished in the desert, They were marked by borders of stones—simple memorials of simple lives and lonely deaths, Before reach- ing O-Bak we passed a strange block of granite, the base of wh worn the sand so that it is pear-shaped. well-known landmark is A boo-Odfla. few miles ni we passed another mass, weir solitary, track is h reached has 8, Asis 90 well barely drink yfts sunk in walter We. ie ich is his Known Some AA 555075 The Language of Unibrellas, ® um gy 3 ow 4 There is a language of . 3 4 ng Ye ‘ instance, piace flowers, that it quickly i body's eve is goin that a hat or two is t An umbrella carried over av man, the man gett nothing but the drippings of the rain, signifies courts when a man has the umbrella and the woman the drippings, it indicates roar- riage, To punch your umbrella into a person and then open it, means 1 dis. like you.” To swing your umbrella over your head signifies “I am making a nuisance of myself.” To trail your umbrelia along the footpath means that the man behind you is thirsting for your blood, To carry it at right angles un- der your arm signifies that an eye is to be lost by the man that follows vou. To open an umbrella quickly, it is said, will frighten a mad bull. To put a eot- ton umbrella by the side of a silk one signifies “Exchange is no robbery.” To purchase an umbrella means, “Iam smart, but honest.” To lend an umbrella indicates I am a fool.” To return an umbrella means well never mind what it means, nobody ever does that! To turn an umbrella in a gust of wind presages profanity. To carry an umbrella just high enough to tear out men’s eyes and knock off men’s To press an umbrella on your friend, say- ing, **Oh! do take it; I had much rath- er yon would than not!’ signifies lying. To give a friend half of vour umbrella means that both of you will get wet, ths vat 1d SANA Ah ed off. $1 ig. syd v SA means **it will clear off.” ——— “A Bridal Tower," One of the steamers plying betweoen Detroit and Cleveland ran over a skiff one night and drowned its occupant. When he had been identified, an agent called upon his wife to see if a settle- ment could be affected. She was not in tears nor prostrate with grief, On and in good humor. When the matter was broached, she said: the washings, brought in the coal, and me,’ “Now, then, be honest with m: she replied, after takin: a moment 'o “How much will a bang Jp bridal tower from here to Niagra Falls and back cost?” “Well, $300 ought to put you through first class, and give you three days at the Falls,” “Well, say $350. That gives me money for new shoes and a bonnet, and 1 may want to dye my hair and buy some stockings,’ The money was handed over and a neceipt taken, and the ‘tower! took 3 lace Lhe next weak if § i ! Among the Dankards, The Dunkard Charch in Washing- 1 | i | 4 ton, at the late celebration of the Lord’s | center hy a leng table, and this table was { divided in the center to allow passage be- itween. At one end the men sat on | benches ranged along the table, where all the congregation who have come any distance sleep on the floor and | in bunks. They bring their bedding | upon the separation of the sexes, a great | many can be accommodated in this gar- ret. People acquainted with their hab- t its said that they slept in sackcloth and | ashes whils here for several nights, A | crackled under a great iron pot, hang- | that would easily burn a cord of wood uncut, From this pot a savory steam open door, pervading the atmosphere with a most appetizing odor of beef, Soon there were prayers from first one and then another of the men, alternated with exceedingly brief and crude ad- dresses, Hymns were also lined out and sung to very monotonous tunes, During all the time the men at their re- spective tableg were embracing and kiss- ing each other, to see two men with kissing each other, negroesat the tables, who were embrac- ed and kigsed just the same as the olh- er members, and bestowed their kisses equally as freely. After these hymus had gone on for an hour or more some of the men and women brought | little wooden tubs and towels, Then lone man or one woman, as the might be, washed the feet after their boots or shoes and woolen stockings were removed, both before and after it. | with his coat removed Esau-like beards Another, if a man), and after bestowlug the kiss of brotherly love, as IL is called; then gave towel and tub to some on yrimed the same office This custom, as one sachiers explained, **was to sh iumility and brotherly y follow Christ at the his office had been singing and speak A man now entered bearing a great basket of bread, a slice of which, about nine inch long, | wide and of an ial nt of each person; it at each place; then dish with square bits of bread broken was placed so that Was o1 every four persons; then appeared huge pieces of boiled beef, Everything be- ing thus prepared, one of the preachers explained that according to their read ing of the Scriptures the communion did pot mean simply g of the elements of bread and wine, but that supper of Christ was a feast, rain was to imitate Him exact «d been asked in standi up tL ¥ n he § # i { fore, 3 ive indafinita th IDGeUNIE Li there 1 X £3 %. ni thie tak y Dlessing all Nony was made bh) sled ort of informal ble were pronounced, of bread were lying in a napkin, while the wine was in two patent bottles labeled *‘liver corrector, The bread was distributed, one son taking a strip with two of his com- panions and breaking into three pieces, thus again following out their idea of a preservation of the Trinity, as they do on every posssible Occasion, The wine, “sliver correct Was next poured nto tin cups, and likewise distributed, both ameng women and men, as the bread had During and after the ceremony there was much Kissing and embracing, and after the communion singing, praying and speak- ing was again resumed. y 8 1 n sing of The sl i i £ tig Lid AS $1ICeR medicine ’ per- it Or ven, —————— Making a Lead Pencil, “What does it lead peneil?’’ said the “First Jet me tell you how we make a pencil See this small black powder? That's graphite. It costs 25 cents a pound, This white substance is German clay. | }4 comes neross the ocean as ballast in sailing vessels, and all it us is freight. We mix this clay and this cost to make a manufacturer, costs mill, allowing moisture 0 be added during the process, uniil the two are putty. *“This paste we press into these dies, each one of which is the size of a pencil leads in one of these, After they are iat a very high heat. i the lead made. Its bardness is regulat- ‘gd by the greater or less amount of clay we mix with the graphite—the more { clay we put in the harder the lead “The cedar we use comes principally from the swamps of Florida, and it is obtained entirely from the fallen trees that lie there. The wool is delivered to us in blocks sawed to pencil lengths, ! some thick to receive the lead, and oth- prs thin, for the floes that 1s glued over {the lead. The blocks are sawed for foar peacils each, They are grooved by a saw, the groove being the place where the lead is to lie. The leads are kept in hot glue, and are placed in the grooves as the blocks are ready. When that is done the thin block 18 glued fast to the thick one, When dry the blocks are run through a machine that cuts the pencils apart. Then they are run through a machine that shapes and burnishes them, and they are ready to be tied in bundies, boxed ad Jt out, The different grades in value are | made by flaer manipulations of the gra. It costs a little more than of a cent to get it ready for market, Ve sell it to dealers at 100 per cent. Of this grade an operator and the machinery will easily make 2.500 a day. “There is a penell in that case, a cheap looking thing isn’t it? that. lead in that pencil was centuries old, I guess, before any cedar that is standing It was taken New York, at the depth of sixty feet, mains, ia — A Detroiter, A Detroiter who put u in a Tennessee 1 & part of the town made a was a gentleman called Colonel, and another as Judge. Both were recent just how they came by their titles or by what right they wore them, The Colonel and the Judge were good friends for awhile, but at length they hada falling out over, politics and the lie was passed, This brought a challenge, which was duty accepted, In the course of a couple of hours the Colonel called on the De- troiter and said: “The Judge is a good and I hate to kill him, fellow at heart, May be you morning and interferes. ”’ The Colonel had scarcely disappeared nd sald: *‘I've been challenged by the Col- onel,” “Yes I know.” “And I've accepted.’ Yes” “And I'll a deadshot.”’ “Well, he must take his chances,’ “Yes, but he's and I to slaughter him. You might drop quickly around to the She him t wink, and of co vent the doel a Ls certainly kill him, for Inu a good fellow ile al aA give aaita 5 oi he we he i pre- saved,” ” 1 21.3 cial did the affair, fort was made rr hing 1 y In ni, andi not recieve fin r, Whe A343 Ji( duel was de he men would nF « i x i AlLErwards walk « 1 s satae side of the street with the Det Filowing by Steam, { the first ploy Ui il il takes a 1 or four oxen, and a boy to drive them, a day to break a little over an acre. An acre and a half a day is good york. And it is hard tugging for man and animal and plow. The new sulky plows, by which a man takes his seat on the plow a good deal as he does in a road sulky, made it far easier for the man but a little heavier for the beasts, By the arrangement just tried at Fargo a traction steam en- gine draws eight plows after it, and in- stead of one breaks twenty-five acres a day. Breaking by the method worth $3 an acre and it is held that the stean plow can afford to break at $1 an acre. The main advantage of course in this is in the fact that by this saving a great many men are freed from man- ual labor and sent into politics, while two-thirds of the agniculturist’s capital is lefty free for speculation. ii vith fa Wild Jour Oia IR mma ID I Myglenic Never begin a dinner with pie, Never sieep in your overshoes, Never ride a thin horse bareback, Never walk fifteen miles before break- fast, Never put your feet in the fire to warm them, Never carry a barrel of potatoes on your head, short cut, Never drink more than you can carry Never give a tramp your summer clothing in the winter, catch a ferry-boat, you retire at night, Never sit by a red-hot stove with a seal-skin cap or ulster on. Never thrust your kaife more than half way down your throat. when you have slippers on, when you are caught in the rain, Never walk into a parlor at a recep tion, and put your feet on the mantel. piece. It will cause the blood to run to your head, am AI The fibre of silk is the longest contin. nous fibre known, An ond 00000 of a well-fed silkworm will often reel 1000 yards, and reliable accounts are given by Count Dandolo of a 0000on 1205 yards, or a fibre nearly three quarters of a mile in length i | The Montana Haimbow “New drinks? Of course. lots of | new nates, anyhow.”’ { The speaker was John Mahon, a well- { known bartender and mixer of fancy | beverages. He served in the Bt, Charles hotel In New Orleans during its palmy | days, and in the Cercle des Estrangers in Havana, Cuba “I understand,” said a reporter at Denver, *'that a great many new fancy drinks will be introduced during the coming season,” “1 hardly think #0,” said Mr, Mahon, “There will be some new fancies in drinks, but the. greater majority of them will be some of the old southern and western mixtures nnder new names, I want to say as a beginning that one of the best drinks ever thought of for sum- mer is coming into fashion this year, | although it has been neglected since be- fore the war. 1 mean port wine sang- ares, How I remember the time when the planters came down the nver and | flocked into the Bt, Charles’ bar. ‘What { will you have lemen?’ I would say; ‘Well, I think 1 will try a sangaree,’ said the first one of the party, and all the rest would follow ‘How do you make a sangaree the old way?’ ‘Well, you fix your mixingegl with cracked ice, put In three spoonfuls of sugar. a dash of lemon juice, two st berries or neapples, and fill ith port wine. Shake well, as Ww extract the flavor of the strawberies or the pines. strain, and serve with fruit and straws. Price 20 cents, “I think the next best is a Florida Irink known as the oraz It’s simple, but makes luscious k. Fill your giass with ice as be- | fore, put in a pony glass of orange bit- i ters, fill with gin or swhisky, as called for, shake well, and strain; serve with three strawberries or pineapple. Price iy suit, in gerinas glices By e cocklall as a Ariy £5434 bh cents,” “Do all fancy drinks run about the game way ?""inquired the reporter. “Oh, no.” said Mr. Mahon. ‘“Here’sthe famous St, Charles 'spitfire,’ ] few men which g into favor inter night- 9 | veur glass with a sufficient uantity of the best brandy. Bi % a py and “ Gear drink, but as a w im it have when tatint and you You 50 Vi ice of orange £ OF OIalixe strawberries, clean, 8 of your all the juice, take your sj add two and a medium- Catawha wine, or Califor if you have not the Cat i 5 add the 4 y i thers against %§ sud 1 8 UHL Vi $ the vmin with ¢ Lhe pulp with Mi have YOO. mfuls of i i Sugar, oe, sized glass of nia Angelica, is that I founda leave a sticky pour two g & ASHES Od I wit of minutes, and then “hen I begin to build the dark Burgundy si some light sherry, then a little fine claret, then some Chartreuse, and then some good brandy. The bran- dy permeates throngh the rest, but their relative positions do not change because ter than the one before it. Add the white of an egg at the top, skake well, and let it settle, Soe what you have The different-colored liguors follow rotation, the cracked joe retaining the crlor gives the glass the appearance of a keleidoscope, and the white of an egg crowns the edifice like thie snow on the top of one of the Rockies. How much had a drink like that to be worth? Don’t know? Well, every dude that calls for a Montana rainbow has got to lay down 50 cents, and I expect to make money enough at that.” this cordial over the settle slraini drink. ice, all to a t of each one is ligh ort got. 13 iil The Decay of Manners, With the departure of the stately graces and formal politeness of the old school from society, went several social arts which have hardly been replaced by any modern accomplishments. To turn a compliment neatly, to hand a lady to her carriage, or assist her to mount her horse gracefully, to tell a good story, or to read well a poem to a room full of cultivated listeners, are among the arts not Jost, perhaps, but certainly mislaid in these piping, active | times of ours. It was considered essential in our | grandfathers’ days that the young men | should be taught these graceful noth- ings and arts of a polite education, the education of a gentleman; and those of us who have bad the good fortune to know a survivor of that well-bred gen- eration have been charmed, perhaps, with that ease of manner, and courte- ous consideration for the feelings of others, which are as rare now as a rich family Neirloom or real antiques. To rise a step higher, the art of conversa- tion, how uncommon it is! How few men, even of abundant leisure, care to | cultivate the talents required to make {4 good talker; to refine the voice and | the manner of ysing it; to read dis- | eriminately; to polish the stock in trade | of language, and add to it with taste | wod care, Verily the telegraph and | telephone are making of us mere auto- | mata, which jerk out certain syllables and infinkum, the secret of thelr mo- | tion consisting simply in winding them up periodically. cai No man's spirits were over hurt by doing his duty.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers