DIRCHYITOOK MILL.
ts
A noteless strean: he Birchbrook runs
Beneath its | ug trees ;
That low, so! ole is its own,
That dull 1var 1+ the sea's,
Of human signs it sees alone
The distant church-spire’s tip,
And, ghost-like, on a blank of gray
The white sai: of a ship.
No more a toiler at the wheel,
It wanders at its will;
Nor dam nor pond is left to tell
‘Where once was Birchbrook Mill.
The timbers of that mill have fed
Long since a farmer's fires:
His doorsteps are the stones that ground
The harvest of his sires.
Men trespassed here; but nature los.
No right of her domain;
She waited, and she brought the old,
Wild beauty back again,
By day the sunlight through the leaves
alls on its moist, green sod
And wakes the violet bloom of spring
And autumn’s golden-rod.
Its birches whis to the wind,
The swallow dips her wings
In the cool spray, and on its banks
The gray song-sparrow sings.
mam
A DOCTOR'S RUSE,
Dr. Paul Ventnor sat alone in his
office, his bands crossed on his knees,
his eyes fixed upon vacancy, the light
from the side-jet falling upon his worn,
anxious face.
The room was barely comfortable.
The floor was covered with matting.
The wall paper was shabby, but was
cheerfully relieved by a few cheap, yet
brightly colored chromos, and the
heavily-giit frame which enclosed his
diploma. A desk somewhat littered, a
book- cate but partially filled an old-fash-
ioned sofa and a few stuffed, stiff-backed
chairs, were all the furniture visible.
‘We say visible, because within a small,
curtained alcove, were a low, DAIrTow
bedstead, and a dingy tollet stand, in
keeping with the cracked wash-bowl and
pitcher which surmounted it, and with
the rickety towel-rack which stood be-
side it.
The doctor was quite a young man,
pre ssing in appearance, and posi-
tive in his manner—his grave thought-
ful face indicating character and a fair
degree of reserved strength. His
clothes had a seedy look; they were en-
tire, but much worn, frayed around the
button holes, the faded binding ren-
dered less noticeable by the application
of ink.
In fact the doctor was very poor, and
the out-look for the future was in no
wise encouraging. He had been loca-
ted in that quarter of the city for three
months, and yet had not received a sin-
gle professional call. He had spent his
and had been compelled to pawn
his surgical instruments and a few of
his books; he was in arrears for board-
ing, while the landlord had given him
potice to vacate the room. {
The doctor was not to blame for his |
straitened circumstances. He had
practiced rigid economy; he had nailed |
up his sign and distributed his circulars; |
he was at least theoretically well up in |
his profession; his address was in his |
favor; he had patiently waited, There |
was not much sickness in the neighbor- |
hood, and what little patronage there
was went into the hands of the older |
practitioners. No wonder that the |
young doctor’s attitude was a forlorn |
one, and the expression on his face al- |
most devoid of hope. |
Suddenly his countenance brightened. |
Some one had pulled the bell. Who |
else, if not a patient? He opened the
door, and a lady entered. She was |
closely veiled, and yet he knew that she |
was young, because of the elasticity in |
her movements, i
“You are Dr, Ventnor?” she asked, |
her voice sweet and distinct, though |
slightly tremulous. i
“At your service, madam.” he an-
swered, with a polite bow. “Pray, be
seated.” »
She took the chair which he placed
for her, and removed her veil; and as |
she did so, he noticed that her hand was
small, white, shapely and bejeweled.
Her face was exceedingly fair, though |
it wore a troubled look. Her eyes |
were black and lustrous, They made
a rapid survey of the room, and then
rested upon the doctor’s face in such a
steady, calculating, estimating way that
he felt the blood filling his cheeks.
*I wish you to call upon my father,”
she said.
“Tonight?” asked the doctor.
*Well--no, she debatingly answered.
“To morrow will do. I tell you before-
hand, its an odd case, and a bad one.
If you succeed in relieving him yon
have only to name your fee,”
**What is his malady?” asked the
doctor.
‘“‘He’s a hypochondriac,” she slowly,
half unwillingly admitted, the color
coming and go in her face. “He
has i strange hallucination, and if he
is not lifted out of it it will end in his
death.”
The doctor was becoming facinated
with the sweet voice, the graceful ges.
tures, the black eyes, which grew more
lustrous because anxiety had filled them
with tears. He drew his chair nearer
to her own.
“You have consulted other physi-
cians?’ he asked,
“Quite a number,” she replied, a
little flurriedly. ‘*‘Some of the best in
the city.”
“Without success?”
“Oh, of course,” and she spoke with
impatience. “They had no—no-—inten-
tions, They argued, and-—hooted.”’
There was something charming about
those pauses in the choice of words,
‘You think they should have hum-
ored him?’ the doctor asked.
“Yes!” she answered, ber face brigh-
tening wondrously. ‘‘You have caught
the ides. Oh, sir, I believe that yon
hot oxgtied she
: eagerness, uncon-
sciously laid ber hand on his arm,
the touch thrilled him.”
Why did you come to me?” he
asked, “I am youag-inexperienced
unknown,”
“Why?” she inquired, with a searche
ing look. **I do not know. Whi do
we do foolish things?’ and she a
little oddly. ‘““They come to us ltke a
& revelation.”
too old, and knew too much,”’ she ad-
led, the odd smile again stirring her
pa,
“I will do what I can,” the doctor
gravely sald. **What Is the character
of the hallucination?”
“It 18 concerning hus food,’ she slow-
ly replied, the piquancy dying out of her
face, ‘Or, to be precise, it concerns
what is given him to drink. For days
at a time nothing liquid passes his lips.
On, it is just dreadful!”
**There are rational intervals?’ the
doctor asked.
“Yes, thank God!” she exclaimed,
with sweet fervor, *‘otherwise ha would
be in his grave.”
ar fancies the water to be poisoned,
@ "
“Oh, worse!" cried Me lovely visitor.
“Filled with the finest needles,”
“Ah!” ejaculated Dr. Ventnor. He
was thoughtful for a minute-—then ad-
ded—*"'Give me your address. I'll call
to-morrow.”
She handed him a card upon which
was printed: G. B. Branson, No,———
Walnut street, Philadelphia.
The doctor knew the gentleman by
reputation; he felt sure there was a
heavy fee in prospect.
**You will be sure to come?’ his vis.
itor asked, with a delightful tremor in
her voice.
She arose and dropped her veil over
her face, her diamond rings catching a
thousand sparkles of light.
“Without fail,”’ was the doctor’s ans-
wer, a8 he accompanied her to the door.
Is your father in distress now?"
“Very much so, sir.”
They had reached the doorstep. It
was #0 early in the evening yet, that she
was not in need of an escort.
**One thing more, Miss Branson,’’ he
said, “It may be best for me not to
call as a physician.”
“Why not?” asked she in quiet sur-
prise,
“‘He may be prejudiced,’ replied the
doctor. Probably you have not caught
my meaning. A great deal will depend
upon adroitness, Could I not come up-
on some pretended business? Of a kind
in which he takes an interest?’
She bent her head, and he noticed
bow finely poised it was.
‘‘He has houses to rent on Brandy-
wine street,’ she said, after a pause,
“To rent and to sell.”
“Very good,” rejoined the doctor,
“that will serve me. Now, Miss Bran-
son, you must not be surprised if I cut
up some queer antics.” He laughed |
as he said that, *‘‘Watch me closely for |
a clew to what I would have you do or |
say.” i
He felt that she was keenly regarding |
him, in the dimness, through her veil, |
“I think I understand,” she simply |
said. “Good evening, sir.” i
The next morning Doctor Paul Vent- |
nor took from a drawer a strong horse- |
shoe magnet He rubbed steadily upon |
the blades of his pocket-knife with one |
electrifying it. He purchased a paper |
store; then set out for the residence of |
He found the latter to be a man well |
advanced in life, intelligent and genial |
—30 genial, In fact, that the doctor
wondered at there being so much of the |
The room was magnificently fur |
nished, yet without a violation of har- |
mony or taste. The owner was evi-
dentiy a man of wealth, disposed to |
wnsult his ease.
The doctor at once opened a conver-
sation about the houses on Brandywine
street, in which Mr. Branson earnestly |
joined, and vividly explained points in |
the speculation
*:Sir, conld I trouble you for a drink |
of water?” the doctor suddenly asked. |
“Certainly,” replied the other. “Kate
please bring Mr, mm
“Ventnor,” supplied the doctor.
“A glass of water,”’ completed Mr.
Branson. :
He was addressing his daughter, who |
had called upon the doctor the evening |
before, and she was seated in one of |
the bay windows. She put aside her |
book left the room, and returned with |
a glass of water, which the doctor ac-
cepted with a bow. |
He was more impressed with her |
loveliness than ever, now that he had |
a better view of her. Her hair was |
black and abundant, her air dignified, |
her manner royal; she was undoubted- |
ly an intelligent, refined, sensible, pure-
minded young woman,
No glance of recognition passed be- |
tween them-—at least her father did not |
notice any; bat the doctor saw a walt-
ing, wistful, trustful, anticipating look
in her eyes, which made his pulses throb
faster,
He raised the glass to his lips, and
then a well-faigned look of astomsh-
ment crossed his tace, He ejected some
of the water,plucked at his moustache,
then strode to the window, where he
seemed absorbed in an examination of
the contents of the glass,
“What is the matter?” asked Mr,
B
rhnson,
“Mattor?’? sharply repeated the doc-
tor, as he turned from the window,
“Sir,who is this girl,” he sternly asked.
“Girl” exclaimed Mr, Branson with
a frown. “She is my daughter.”
“I beg a thousand pardons!” humbly
rejoined the doctor, seeming quite flar.
tied. “This is remarkable! Very re.
markable!” and he stared into the
lass,
8 “What is remarkable?’ asked Mr.
Branson with a gasp,
“There are needles swimming in the
water!”’ announced the doctor, the none
plwed look still on his face. *‘Hun-
& of them sir, How did they get
J hy. 01d he give mb such stuff as
“Needles!” exclaimed Mr. Branson,
very much excited. *‘There,
Kate,” added, with an air of tri-
ump. “What have I always told
you "
Miss Branson etured into the tumb-
ler, her face com demure,
“1 seo no
“Oh, you don't
ned the doctor. y
, Branson?’’ and he handed the o
gentleman the glass,
“You are right, sir,” declared he; ‘1
see them with the naked eye; and uy
sight is none of the best, for I am al-
But you cannot con-
“May be I can,” objected the doctor,
m——
He took out his knife, thrust lato
the glass the magnetized blade, and
when he withdrew it a number of nee-
dles were adhering to it, for he had
adroitly dropped them into the water,
“What have you to say now?’ he
asked, his eyes upon Kate,
“I am convinced,’ she sald, “Why,
it is just horrible.”
The doctor turned to Mr, Branson,
and said:
“You do not seem greatly surprised?”
“Well, no,” replied the old gentie-
man, with a grin. **It is no new expe~
rience to me. For months I bave
found needles in the water, milk, tea,
coffee—in everything served up to me
to drink. I cannot begin to tell you
what I have suffered. I called in sev-
eral physicians, but they laughed at me,
and treated it as the fancy of a disor-
dered mind, You are the only person
who ever detected the needles, and I
know you have no hint of the matter
from me or anybody elsa. I shall ever
hold you in grateful remembrance, if for
no other reason than because you have
convinced my daughter. She will be-
lieve, with me, that a diabolical and
systematic attempt has been made up-
on my life.”
“On mine, sir inthis instance,’’ grim-
ly rejoined the doctor. *‘Itis an out-
rageous affair, and must be looked in-
to. Who filled this glass?”
“Richard,” replied Miss Branson.
*“Who is Richard,” replied the doc-
tor.
“A domestic.”
“Send him here at once,” perempto-
rily ordered the doctor,
Mr. Branson stared with admiration
at his visitor; he was a man ot nerve, of
purpose and promptness; he would cer-
tainly unravel the mystery.
“This man Richard,” the doctor
——
‘*A mulatto,”
“Compos-mentis?’
“A trifle simple minded, I suspect.”
“*How long has he been with you?"
“Three years,"
“All” ejaculated the doctor. *‘He
must be sent away at once.”
The servant came into the room, pre-
ceded by Miss Branson.
“Did yon fill this glass with water?"
the doctor sharply asked.
**Yes, sah,” answered the mulatto, a
harmless-looking fellow, with high
cheek bones and watery eyes,
“Did you drop any needles into it?"
asked the doctor.
“Golly, no!” exclaimed the man.
“Dar’s no needles in it. It's an old
cranky notion of Mr. Branson's. He
keeps us all on an edge about it,
“*Oh, be does?’ frowned the doctor.
“Well, it is no fancy.”
“Dar’s no needles in the water,” de-
clared the man,
“We'll pee," said the doctor, as he
thrust the magnetized knife-blade into
the glass, “What are these, pray?”
indicating a number of dangling nee-
dles,
There was someting comical in the
way the man’s eyes dilated,
“Dey is needles, sah, sure as you
live!” he exclaimed. ‘Dey must jist
been in the cooler. I didn’t put ‘em
in; I swear I didn’t sah!”
“*Your services here end with to-
day!’ the doctor sternly said, *‘If
jran-
son will pay it.”
A dumbfounded look settied upon
the servant's face, and he was about to
protest with vehemence when Mr,
order,
“I owe you a week's wages, which
Kate will pay you at once," he said,
“Now go and be thankful I didn’t have
you up before a magistrate.”
glance upon the doctor, and then slow-
iy and sullenly left the room.
Mr. Branson and the doctor conversed
with him, and cordial in his invitation
to him to call again,
Miss Branson accompanied the doc-
tor to the door,
**Your father is cured,’ he said.
“Do you think 80?" she asked, her
handsome eyes on his face, “We will
wait a week. That was an admirable
ruse. Take this, please; it is simply a
remembrance,”
A roll of something was placed in his
hand.
“Thank you!’ he gratefully said.
“You were rather hard on Richard,”
“I wronged him,"’ admitted the doc-
tor. “‘But—I had to assall some one,
Can you explain the matter to him, and
procure him a situation elsewhere?’
“I will try,” she replied.
The doctor bowed, and then hurried
back to his office. He paid the debts
that annoyed him most, and felt like
another man. At the end of the week
he received a second voluntary fee from
his fair friend.
The tide turned; patients called on
him or sent for him; his practice be-
came assured; he was soon on the high
road to competency.
He became a frequent visitor at the
house of Mr. Branson, and finally mar-
ried the fair, dark-eyed young girl who
had brought him his first case.
a
Without a River.
New Orleans is in danger of being
loft without a river, The Atchafalaya,
which is in fact a mouth of the great
river, is enlarging very fast, and at a
constantly increasing rate. It was at
some not very distant day the mouth of
the Red river, and now leaves the Mis.
E2FEsp
eit
g
¥
IRA AI ASN
Wealth 1s not always fortune.
Soene In the Yosemite,
Descending into the Yosemite Val.
ley last June was a scene ever to be re.
membered. In canyon after canyon
roared mountain torrents from the
vations of 2,000 or 3,000 feet overhead,
tearing in enormous volumes of white
foam down the ravines and over sheer
precipices from 800 to 600 feet lugh,
crossing the road in streams from ten
to thirty feet, wide and mid-leg deep,
plunging over the road wall only to lose
the Merced River, far below.
Never in the history of Yosemite
since its occupancy by white people has
the water been higher than during the
past June, and at no time has the flood
lasted so long, Coming into the valley
by the Mariposa road, generally the
first fall of any note seen is the Bridal
Vell, but this year there are several
that deserved the title and dignity of
waterfall, notably the first one, known
as the Inspiration Fall, sometimes jo-
being opposite the Virgin's Tears, also
as an old stage-driver very dryly re.
marked to a querist: ‘Because it dries
up inside of two months,” This fall
the past season was of an unusually
large volume, suggesting a double dose
of grief—and snow. Other falls and
Veil. This was by far the grandest
mass of water in the valley in June, It
appeared to the eye to stand up at its
above the lip of the wall,
muddy color for some three hundred
of the most dazzling white. It struck
the rocks below with a reverberation
like thunder and fell in 80 solid a mass
as te utterly defy the power of the wind
to break or blow its volume to either
side. At the foot the spray was pro-
jected out in a vast jet for soma four
hundred feet, resembling a gigantic
stream from a fire engine,
cloud, rising sometimes
nearly to the top of the fall. Persons
passing by this Fall on the road which
goes by its base at adistance of near]
a quarter of a mile, were instantly salu-
of our Winter storms, for a distance of
800 yards, and unless one was inside of
outside, he was speedily wet through.
It is seldom the Bridal Veil attains
such majestic proportions, being fully
as large as the Nevada or Vernal Fall
ever gets to be. Its width the past sea-
to be 900 feet high, it was seemingly
not over 400 feet, Approachin
Sentinel Rock, the Sentinel Fall, or
Loya, made its presence manifest by
cascade, being a series of falls for 3,700
feet, it was of great volume, its last
tiful, the wind in the afternoon blow-
A little above
|
tude to be seen at all. The great Yose-
mite was a giant, thandering mass,
falling in great spurts of foam, over-
lapping each other and piling up in
base of each of the three falls. The
canyon of the Yosemite was, in fact,
almost lndden with vapor and steam
impossible to get up the ladders at the
Vernal Falls or to descend that
one being in some danger of suffocation
from the vast mass of mist at the foot
of the Nevada Fall, and at Snow's at
the foot of Nevada Fall, all of the doors
and windows on the front and east sides
nearly three weeks on account of the
beating of the spray of the Nevada
Fall, The water dripped from the
eaves in a perpetual rain stream and
the whole vicinity was constantly delu-
ged, as in a heavy shower,
the house is over a quarter of a mile
from the foot of the falls.
Heraldry.
In 1066 William the Conqueror be-
stowed on all his captains the title bar-
onet, or little baron, meaning a brave
officer. King James 1. created two
hundred Englishmen baronets, as a
means of revenue. Each man agreed
to maintain thirty soldiers for three
years at eight pence a day to quell in-
surrection in Ireland, The cost of
maintaining this quots of men and the
fees attached amounted to £1,200,
which was afterwards the stated price
of obtaining from the King the grant
of a coat of arms. When the Knight
had won the right to a device upon his
shield he could take what he chose, pro-
vided that he did not take adevice that
wasalready appropriated, As in those
days there was little communication
from place to place, it sometime hap-
pened that several individuals had the
same device. From this arose dispu-
tes that were settled by single combat,
where might made right.
In 1483 the He ' College was
founded by a charter from Richard 111,
had fourteen officers, whose
pay £100 to the Lord Lyon and his of-
ficers or be prosecuted for felony, while
all goods upon which are found arms
not their own are confiscated to the
King.
The signets of the ancients suggested
the armorial bearings. The seal
name the signature.
people affixed their mark or a cross,
commercial class used a signet having
for the goddess of faith was supposed
where the two parties shook hands as a
conclusion. And how came the hand-
shake into fashion?
open hand extended showed it did not
hold concealed a dagger.
out of date it became the fashion to or-
with the coat of arms, It was put on
| the outside of the palace, on plate, on
| carri
{ on sea
| ter first in 1144. The funeral escutch-
| the shield were arranged sixteen arms
was descended —if all these bore
his gentilitywas complete—on the four
corners of the shield were more heads,
the initial of his name or titles, and the
black interstices were powdered with
tears,
royal family, or of
| whose funerals are conducted at public
| expense,
neral pageants of to-day are in place of
helmets of former times The United
| States is indebted for the stars and
i ington,
| be pointed at in a crowd and hear peo-
| ple ask, who 1s he? Since the days of
| heraldry other titles and honors have
| arisen,
| member of the Academy;this is to
{ have a right, equal to a seat in the
| Houss of Peers, says Jules Janin, It
| seems to the Frenchmss admirable to
form a class of those who live by their
highest intelligence aad to proclaim
| them honorable !
| every man had a mulitary title; he was
captain, major, general, commoxlore; or
| in the professions: doctor, professor,
bishop, president. These accusations
| we do not hear so often, but to-day we
| are accused of a leaning toward coats
of arms. The Epglisinan says: “It
shows how deeply the passion for out-
nature, when we find paople in countries
like the United States, where ail differ.
ences in rank are theordically given up,
assuming heraldic devices, each man at
his own hand. In many families the old
siiver, embossed with ceat of arms, has
been melted over and manufactured into
wodern articles. The seals have been
lost, the carved furnitue broken and de-
stroyed, but as every year adds to our
age and dignity we come to have a past
of arms, and every man who chooses to
do so assumes the one that belonged to
the ancestor of his name, no matter how
far removed ; in this he pays respect to
his ancestry and dignifies himself,
———
Pidnight in Marseilles’ Cemetery,
| with my courier outside the city to the
cemetery, St. Pierre, to see the burial
of three cholera patients whom I had
observed in the Pharo Hospital in the
afternoon. The route led through the
poor quarter, and at every corner bon-
| fires were blazing to purify the air. The
| whole population was sitting out.on the
| steps of tenements or on church porch-
es enjoying the fires andthe currents of
air created by them, The country road
beyond the barriers brought us to the
gates of the cemetery, when the polite
| jed us walking down a Spacious road,
| lighted here and there by
on the ground, to a place just back
{
| night’s burials were to take place.
| burial service, intoned by a pale young
| priest, who looked badly scared, three
| trench eight feet deep by twenty feet
| shoveled on top. It was a ghastly
| trench, and there was plenty of room
| for more collins,
| saddening sight.
| blanch-faced priest, intent on his holy
| calling, surrounded by a § of swart,
| bare-chested, brigandish-looking labor-
| ers, who bore the somber coffins, For
| a background there stood the tall white
| houses, The dead still wore their {aw-
| dry trinkets, and the whole was lighted
up as in a picture by Rembrandt by the
fitful glare of three lanterns. Those
ing trenches were big enough to
hold their thousands, A concierge
showed me a bunal permit. Across
the face of the document was written
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Better to go to bed supperiess than
to get up in debt,
A man may love his house, and yet
not ride on its ridge.
Almost the best rule of life is to be
The most manifest sign of wisdom is
continued cheerfulness,
Ungraciousness 18 wholly opposed to
He getteth a great deal of credit
who payeth but a small debt.
Industry has annexed thereto the
fairest fruits and the richest rewards,
It is a great mistake to avoid actual
It isnot when we are most pleased
most,
Earnestness is one part of eloquence.
We persuade others by being in earnest
We tind many things to which the
prohibition of them constitutes the
only temptation.
Every morning let a reasonable day’s
work be contrived, and when it is ac-
Let no man complain of the short
the
full capacity of a day.
Don’t think you know everything:
have
Laws are like cobwebs, which may
hornets break through.
A weak mind is like a microscope,
which magnifies trifling things, but
cannot receive greal ones,
Many men are mere warehouses full
and the
He whoclimbs above the cares of this
world, and turns his face to God, has
Keep your temper, keep your purse,
be healthy, wealthy and wise.
Men can by no possibility become
female clerks, but there is nothing U
prevent women becoming mail clerks,
The reason why bankers are so apl
to prosper is because they always take
obedience, and
the marble
Purity, sincerity,
self-surrender—these are
ple.
A subscriber advertises for **A plain
gir! to cook.” He probably was afraid
girl.
Value no man for his opinion; but
esteem him according as his life's cor-
responds with the rules of piety and
We may read, and read and
again, and still
read
find something new,
Do not philosophize overthe contra-
dictions which beset you: do not dwell
upon them, but strive to see good in all
Genuine firmness of mind consists
our own moderate powers and acquire-
ments,
When a high-minded man takes pains
to atone for his injustice, his kindness
of heart shows in the best and purest
hight.
One clear and distinct idea is worth
mistry ones. Gain one
centre of light.
Every joy that life gives must be
earned ere it is secured; and how hardly
wrestled for great prizes.
The only way to make the mass of
mankind see the beauty of justice 1s by
Method in everything is incalculably
It promotes comfort. It
saves a large expenditure of time. It
avoids numberless inconveniences,
We must look downward as well as
Though many
may have passed you in the race, there
are many you have left behind.
Our great want insocial life is a deep
There are many and various ways of
ings.
Simple emotion will not suflice to
elevate the character or improve the
life, There must be strength of will
power or self-denial, persevering ef-
fort.
Good resolutions are often like
loosely-tied cord—on the first strain of
temptation they slip. They should
certainiy be tied in a hand knot of
prayer.
Heaven is your proper home.
your course to that glorious and happy
world; and let every step which you
take here advance you towards im-
mortal life.
The mother’s yearni that com-
pd Ln the life which is the es-
sence uman lo presence
of the cherished NO even in the
base, degraded man,
the future con-
bat by law,
or that Bathing
characterizes
ing,
|
Seid,
HL