HOW TO LIVE,
By thine own soul's law learn to live,
And if men thwart thee take no heed,
And if marhate thee have no care;
Sing thou thy song and do thy deed,
Hope thou thy hope and pray thy prayer,
And claim no crown they will not give,
Nor bays they grudge thea for thy hair,
Keep thou thy soul-sworn stead fast oath
And to thy heart be true thy heart;
What thy soul teaches learn to know,
And play out thine appointed part,
And thou shalt reap as thou shalt sow,
Nor helped nor hindered in thy growth,
To thy full stature thou shalt grow.
Fix on the future's goal thy face,
And let thy feet be Iured to stray
Now hither, but be swifl to ran,
And nowhere tarry by the way, |
Until at last the end is won,
And thou may’st look back from thy place
And see thy long day’s journey done,
—— ie
WAS IT SUICIDE?
Jack Bancroft and I were old friends.
and loved him for the excellent quali-
ties of heart and brain which pos-
sessed to an uncommon degree. Jack
was one of fortune’s favorites, while I—
well my lines had not fallen inaltogeth-
er pleasant places; yet through all the
changes of my changeful life we had
remained firm friends.
One day he came into my study which,
by the way, was parlor, dining and bed
room all in one, and declared I must
take a holiday, and accompany him to
a place in Jersey where he had spent a
portion of the previous summer. I,
he
only toe glad to get away from the
sweltering heat of the city, andthe
next evening found myself an inmate
of a large farm house near Port Murry.
A quaint old house it was too, sur
An old-fashioned garden filled with a
profusion of roses that made the air
almost overpowering with per-
fume, How I
milk and other delicacies!
special enjoyment of that Summer
ing has nothing to do with my story.
their
feasted on fresh eggs,
But my own
Oul-
Fora week wandered
und all
ing rods, shooting harmless li
Or more we
day long with
ttl
guns and fis
ttle bu
™
ds,
Une even-
and catching a fish or two,
+ : - :1 - .
astride a rail fence
raised his
ing we were sealed
when Jack suddenly
fired. The
foliowed by a cry of
un was
gun and
m g
’
report from he §
exclaimed
guess | have shot
“Rye (3 ' ' .
By Leorge. ny
“]
some one.
We bounded over the fence, and made
our way through a field of clover
ward the
proceeded. Und
spot from
girl, small
face,
and slim, with &
shaking her brown
moaning piteousiy,
“Are you hurt badly, little
=.
asked, stooping to examine
that had received the charge of ¢l
Not much, Sir
'
thtened me so!
Very
I wasn’
harm, only just
* she replied.
little thing!” said Jack. *'I
blame, I am very sorry. Where
3 !
vine and
I will
dress the wound.
ain Lo
do vou live? take you he
I am something of a
surgeon,’’ he explained turning toward
me.
The child hung
no answer to the
repeated.
“I don’t live anywhere, I ran :
from Aunt Becky. She’s a hateful old
cat and beat and beat me till I couldn’
stand it any longer—then I ran
You needn’t ask me to go back to
for | My hand doesn’t
much. Even if it did, it isn’t as hard
to bear as Aunt Becky's beatings.
She uttered the words in a breathless.
terrified way, and gazed at usdefiantly
as if to assure us that she would resist
any attempt on our part to lead her back
to the relative who had so cruelly
her.
“Poor little waif,”’
ly; ‘we don’t
Aunt Becky. Then to mé:
we take her to the tavern where we
tunched yesterday. There I can dress
the wound and get her something to
eat.”
When she was convinced that we were
inclined to befriend her, we had
difficulty in inducmg her to accompany
her’ head
inquiry,
won't,
used
said Jack, tender-
want you to return to
“Suppose
On the way there the girl, half child
and half woman, told us that her name
was Alma Lake. She was an orphan,
and had lived with her sunt as long as
she could remember. She had worked
hard all her life and had always been
harshly treated. Nobody had ever spo-
ken kindly to her except her old grand-
father, who died the previous year,
Aunt Becky was glad when he died,
because he had to be waited on just like
a baby, and she (Alma) often wished
she could die, too, and lis in the grave-
yard beside her dear old grandpapa.
When we reached the tavern Jack
dressed the slight wound and ordered
supper for our protege, Before leaving
her for the night we made her promise
to remain at the tavern until we called
the day following.
The wounded "and progressed favor-
ably and mm a ww _' time was entirely
well, Then the iandlady, whom Jack
had named the Countess of Blessington,
told us she was willing to keep Alma
for the summer season, providing she
would agree to take care of the chil
dren and keep them out of her way
during the busiest hours of the day.
And when we informed Alma of the
main,
1 was very much occupied on a serial
i
Europe in the Fall.”
I took her brown hands in mine and
Therefore he would frequently start off
She gazed after him with a yearning
| return until evening. One day curios-
| ity prompted me to ask him how he
ingly replied that he had turned school-
“You see,’”’ he explained, ‘‘Alma
woods every morning and keeps them
| there nearly the entire day. While
they are playing near by she, under my
supervision, studies from a dog-eared
The poor girl has never been to school,
wonderfully apt
She has already mastered the
the village to purchase a slate,
and reader for her.”
pencil
He appeared to take a genuine inter-
he could in a month.
The Summer
antly enough.
Was passing away pleas
seemed
tin Vif
USL ine
Jack
content with the we
living and I tound it very restful—away
from the noise and bustle of the city.
1
One day I received a letter which made
a trip to New York
formed Jack of my intended
asked him to accompany me.
HeCesSsSAary. I in-
visit
This he
declined doing, saying he meant to start
to Saratoga in a few days, to join his
already
Business detained me in
much longer than I had expected, and
r two weeks 1
that Jack
Saratoga long
after an absence of nearly
returned, believing of course,
had departed for
1 was consi
before.
when oul
had
ged of go
1
formed me that
landlady in
gone yel
ing every day, b
0 awail my
I strolled do
$11 vy
LL A
journey.
{ overed J i
der tq y
Gel a4 Lee OL
y he
th}
with her as she
sppeared L
bowed head and |]
’ ht fil
118 Were
CO¥YTECL
was
o leave her.
id has always heen
i tried to be Kind to her,
that way, old friend;
meant no harm, It
think
Here his
“As God
never entered my mind to
would learn to care for me.”
! boyish faee flushed sligh
heart throb with pity.
“Will you never, never come back!”
she murmured in a tone so low that it
did not reach his ears.
“Come, Alma, you are too old to be-
have so childish!” 1 remonstrated.
“Take the children to the woods and I
will see you when the train starts.”
I turned and followed Jack, who was
moving very rapidly. I did not over-
take him, and when I reached the depot
the train was just moving off. On the
to find her. Having important work to
do, I proceeded on my way, determined
to call during the evening. 1 became
ever, and did not go in search of her
until the following evening. Then I
learned that she had disappeared on the
Jack's departure.
“I suppese she has gone off with Mr.
Jancroft,”” observed the countess in a
morning of
“1 think you are mistaken, madam,”
[ replied, anxious to shield my friend,
vet fearing her words were Loo true,
I sat down and wrote to Jack, telling
him of Alma’s disappearance. but made
i I have never uttered one word of love
her. I will, I must, go away to-
morrow: then you can tell her
will know what to say. i
some money with you,
to
will leave
when the
her services
and
countess ceases (0 require
decent livelihood,”
had harbored concerning
mind,
“You had better leave imnmediately,”’
| I advised,
“1 will,
LO-INOTTOW,
I will start by the first train
And you will be kind to
! will you not?"
| child's fancy, and that she would prob-
| ably forget all about him ln a weeks’
| time, and the idea seemex
| him greatly.
The next morning our
i . %
| Jack's luggage to
having time to
host carried
the depot and we,
spare, walked there,
| encountered Alma, She did not come
to greet us, as was her wont, but looked
| sadly and silently at us. As we drew
i near I held out my hand and spoke
pleasantly to ber. She did not heed my
greeting, bat kept on, her eyes fixed on
Jack's face,
“Our friend is going to leave us to-
day.” I remarked,
“Oh, take me with you, Mr, Jack!”
she cried, rushing forward and grasping
his hands.
“That is impossible, Alma,” 1 sald,
somewhat steinly,
“But he will come back! Ohlsay that
you will come back!” she pleaded, still
clinging to his arm.
“No, Alroa, he will not come back.
Jack
When I repeated
honorable act, Three days later
was back at the farm.
sadly:
returned here
did
friend. Nothing on
“And you believed |
and took her away. You me a
old
:
hay
i me to take
seen the
went away.
Wells
andl et
earth coulc & induced
a step. I have not
the
SUCH
child
Banisl
Wi
since morning I
1 your unjo
earch of her,
search, the |
excitement
¥ 3
i Liat
+ Furseln ff ax r n i
08 DOUY OL 3 WOIILAL 58
The body had been ca
her dres
peEnses, an
remains to tl
We
¥ if
irew hoerseil
Ig piace,
never coul whether
tl il Was acc)
was the
Eu-
ording to his directions, 1
had a monument |
dentally drowned, but hoped it
latter. During Jack's absence
in
rope, an 1 ace
laced over her grave,
Arya Lane,
“She hath
will be forgiven her,”
3
It bears this inscription:
Aged fifteen years, loved
much, and mueh
--—
Diving. Bell and Armor.
There is a difference between a div-
ing-bell diving-armor, The bell
is a hollow vessel, bell-shaped, inverted
The air
watar from
can better
understand it by forcing a goblet ina
pail of water. By putting a small
piece of wood-—a bit of match-—on the
forcing the
goblet down over that, you car
and
»4 # { » ER
within the vessel provents
You
wn
the extent of the air chamber,
which, in a bell, furnishes a breathing
space for the diver.
The diving armor consists of a
round, copper helmet to go over the
head provided with glass windows,
is fastened down to the
body by being connected with a breast.
The helmet is large enough so
that the head of the diver may be turn-
ed about with ease, The body of the
ment, perfectly secure against the pen-
Air 1s pumped in from above by
means of a tube which connects with
the pack of the helmet, and & second
tube from the same place gives escape
to the air after it has furnished breath
to the diver. The body of the opera.
tor is carried down by means of heavy
weights attached, and a signal rope is
provided, so that signals may be given
to those in the outer world, One hun.
dred and seventy feet is the greatest
depth that we know of any diver reach.
ing. In 1856 Mr. E. Harrington re.
covered the iron safe of the steamer
Atlantie, sunk four years before in
Lake Erie, at the depth of one hun-
dred and fifty-seven feet,
A Departed Hace.
Plenty of men are yet liv
remember when buffaloes in countless
between the Missouri River and the
Mexico to the Arctic regions! It is
not very long since.
w
£4
demands commerce, began, and
then it was in a small way. The only
converson into robes, The trade was
the Missouri
nor improvident in the destruction of
game. He realizes that it is the main-
stay of his life, and if he wastes this
vear it may cause him to suffer from
hunger next year; hence he kiils to
provide meat for the present; and pre-
serves for the future, The skins from
animals so slain, after sufficing for his
own wants, find their way to the trader,
and thence into the
merce, Thus began'the trade in baffalo
skins, As the white
quainted the
profit about
began
channels of com-
man became ac-
with country he Baw
1830 traders
the
accompanied by professional
in it, and
reach out into
Lo
country,
white hunters, who made a life
ness of slaughter, However, they were
not very destructive, mainly because of
their
fir
U3
and y, perhaps
that
imperfect as co
indolence,
t1
wis
pari
their arms
pared with those
& reason were
very
of the present day.
First, trading posts were est
eastern edge of the
nge, upon the Missouri River and its
Then the traders
crossed the plans and located a
}
Clin
along the
Ii
larger tributaries.
of posts, or
creased wild §
They were
dest
about. In
period may be styled, commerce and
the world reaped
slaughter, except in the little bit of the
meat that was eaten by the butchers
and their The skins were
not saved. was sent to mar-
ket,
Then
the Uuion Pacific and Kansas Pacific,
that penetrated the beat of the bullalo
country in 1868 and traversed thie entire
breadth of it before midsummer of
1870. With them, in the hands of the
masses, came also the deadly repealing
and bieechloading rifles, with
any pot-hunter could “‘pump”’ lead into
a five hundred acre herd of buffalo
with deadly effect, whether he could
ever find the carcasses or not, That
made no difference, If he wanted one
ructiveness, or
wanton
this epoch, if such
no benefit from the
comrades,
No meat
came the railroads; two lines,
or if he wanted ten it would take but
little longer to shoot fifty, and in either
case he could then pick out the best
away to die, With the advent of the
railways the buffalo killing was for
a time afl done “for meat.” Hundreds
and hundreds of men went regularly
into the slaughter. The only meat they
wanted was hams and tongues. The
rest was left to rot. Even the hams
mined by a kindjof coronor’s inquest,
Buffalo hams became one of the largest
freight items on the railways. Car-
loads and train loads went to Eastern
markets. Hundreds of tons rotted at
the stations for want of shipping
facilities, other hundreds or thousands
of tons rotted before it could be trans.
ported from where killed to the rail-
ways,
For two or three years after the open
ing of the railways named, & train
seldom crossed the plains without pass.
ing in sight of buffalo, and it was not
{ an uncommon thing for a train to have
i to wait for a moving herd to cross the
itrack., Now buffalo are never seen
| from the trains, nor have they been for
eight or ten years past. But there
remained one more harvest to be ga-
| thered from the departed native life
| and grandeur of the great plains; a
poor, pitiful, post-mortem harvest of
stinking bones. After they had surfeit
ed the East with odorous hams and
| glutted the markets of the world with
“robes” killed in season and out of
| season, these gallant hunters turned
scavengers and gathered the rotting
bones and blistering horns of the
countless dead. Railway trains that
had in former years groaned under
loads of meat and bales of hides were
now loaded down with bones destined
for Eastern manufactones of various
kinds.
a
The British Parliament,
The House of Lords in ¥
Wi members, and the House
G52, What
the
ngland has
of Com-
mons has
100108 18
frequent
with which his party en
successful remarks of the orat
he curries the
Ted
iNLo
wal
party in
ives, 1
and
1d as passionately
“No, no,” in more or ie
8, to statements
there is
Commons is none
States.
the United
House of Commons is
Talbot,
ib of Glamorgan:
$
Rice Mansel
$e
oly
completed his e
been born May 12
}
}
vear, nas
A Tu 13
Mr. Ta
of (zlamor -
148 represented
Parliame
swered that he
relative to the pol
ter. His
there was no question
involved, but simply a regrettable
understanding between England
Russia, which he was firmly persuaded
one day He
European pow-
wage war for the sake of
Adistins, In the meantime Gen-
eral Skobeleff was of opinion, from a
military point of view, that the inva-
gion of India would be more difficult
than 1# generally believed. “In order
to take Akhal, and having at my dis-
posal but 5000 men, I had to get 20,000
camels from Orenberg, Khiva, Bokhara
and Mangishlak at great expense and
| with the utmost difficuity. In order to
invade India we should have, in my
opinion, 15,000 men--00.000 for the
| purpose of getting in, and 90,000 to
| guard our communications. And how
| many camels would it not require, and
where could they be found ? This is a
detail of transport. But modern war
| fare is hampered by such details. Then
how i8 an army to live? Afghanistan
| 1s a poor country, incapable of supply-
| ing food for an army of 60,000 men.’
| General Skobeleff then went on to say
| that Russia bad fixed her boundary in
Asia at Persia, where she enjoys an in-
fluence similar to that of England in
Afghanistan,
with Teheran he stated to be excellent,
and 1t was agreed that Merv should
mark the limit of the Czar’s power in
Asin, It was a good thing that Af-
ghanistan on one hand and Kashgaria
on the other interposed a barrier be-
tween Russia and India.
personal opinion
{f centr
would could not
| believe that two great
Cease,
ers would
MORALE
Where are there two things so op-
posite and yet so nearly related, so un-
like and yet often so hard to be dis
tinguished from each other, as humility
and pride?
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
,
Men’s merits have their
well as faults,
One
any virtues,
Much coin,
much malady.
Good, the more communicated
abundant grows,
Danger has a
those who defy it.
Better suffer from truth thas
per by falsehood.
The road to heaven is equally
where’er we die,
He who is scared by words,
heart for deeds,
He who is of no use Lo
no use to anvyore.
vice is more expensive
much care; much meat
1018
for
strange respe
thing is so
reveal it.
secret but
ty is a virtue which
A button 18s one of these ever
are always coming off.
Manual gratification
pleasures of friendship.
To
\
advan
keep one’s opinion
pleasure and a sweet one,
He who pretends to know eve
proves that he knows nothing.
iY are
Yai £ fats
persons fatigue
Because they are tired
1 + ’ 4 a}
What part of speech are shopkeepers
i anxious to sell? Article
may come of
can only come of
vhich you have, ar
§ *
¢ Wie same Li
i
i ne
hat carries mor
t Eastern
$3¢ ¥ T oe p
ight—Trying 0 }
nnber five on a number seven |
The atin of a eri riry |
The duration of PASSION 8
our power than the
AU
vial
HON
i
1118 earies
to have been
The moment we feel ang
troversy we have already ceased siriv-
ing for truth and beg
ourselves,
He wim is dear 1 ih
though far as he can be
heart rejects is remote, thoug!
our very self.
Any coward can fight a batile
he’s sure of winning; but
man who has pluck to figl
sure of losing.
It is better to be a begga
ignorant person;
wants movey, but an
wants humanity,
Philanthrophy, like charit rust
begin at home. From this centre
sympathies may extend im an ever
extending cirele.
Faith in a sublime truth, loyalty to a
great purpose, will make the faces of
men shine like the sun, and their rai
ment white as the light.
Whatever busies the mind
corrupting it, has al least
That it rescues the day from
and be that is never ule will seldom be
vicious,
Chivalry is not confined fo rela.
tion of the sexes, It Is a sentiment
which should rightly inspire all who
are highly favored in any respect lo
wards those who are less fortunate.
Men's fortunes are oftener made by
ty
aght wher
taal
for a beg wal
ignorant pe
OF
without
this use;
dienes:
oA
Lie
more fortunes overthrown
also, than by their vices,
Asthe soil however rich it may be,
cannot be productive without culture,
80 the mind without caltivation can
never produce good fruit,
Every man is not so much & works
man in the world as be is a suggestine
of what he should ba. Men walk as
prophecies of the next age,
A kind voice is a lark's song ™o a
hearth and home, and the sweeiest
music in all the world to one who loves
you. It is to the heart what light is to
the eye
thercby,