- THE KING'S DUST. “Thou shalt die,” the priest sid to the King, “Thou shalt vanish Hke the leaves .of spring, Like the dust af any common thing One day thou upen the winds shalt blow I” “Nay, not #0,” the King said. “I ¢hall stay While the great sum in the sky makes day; Heaven and earth, when I do, pass away. In ny tomb I walt:€ill all things go! ‘Then the King dled, And with myrrh and nard, Washed with palm wine, swathed in linen hard, Relled in naphtha gum, and under guard {Of his steadfast tomb, they taid the Klog. Century fled 40 century ; till he lay Whele as when they hid him first away— Boath, the priest had nothing more to say, He, it seemed, the Kiug, knew everything. One day armies, swith tramp of doom, Overthrew the hugh blocks of the tomb; Arrowy sunbesmins searched ita chambered gloom, Bedouins camped abeut the sand-blown spot. Little Arabs, anewering to their name, With a broken mummy fed the flame, Then a wind among the ashes came, lew them lightly-—and the King was not! ~8t. Nicholas. anil———— Gempted to INurder. Naturally I am a jealous man, Per. haps it came from the fact that I was a stray sheep in the house that was filled with my stepmother’s children. They were not content with their mother's love, but exacted from my father all the attention he had to be- stow upon the family and he was led to believe me moody and sullen because I resented this unequal division of household duty and felt myself de- frauded out of my share in my father's heart. Looking back upon my early childhood, it does not seem strange that I grew up with a great jealousy of the caresses that were lavished freely upon my younger brothers—the sons of my stepmother. This, as I grew older, deepened into a longing for a home of my own, a love in which no other | — mond ia the crown of the Farmington Mountaing. Its memory comes back to me with every recurring October day that is its twin in beauty, but it has been #0 softened since that no sting is left im it. “Frank,” said my step-mother after a while, “do you lowe Ethel so much that you could not give her up? Do you think you are suited to her? Would you mot both ‘be happier if you should retura to vour old bachelor life instead of trying to tie this young girl down to your old-fashioned ways?” Amazement kept me speechless for a moment, and then I quietly told her that Ethel and { loved each other and were to be married at Christmas and that I could not consent to eny such mit to any questioning. An ordinary woman would have been guiet, but this one loved her brood with the intense ferocity of a tiger cat and was bound to make all other lives that she could influence subordinate to what she considered their best inter- este, So, after a while, she said that I must veally forgive; that she ouly spoke for my own good, because she thought me too old in my ways, if not in my vears, for Ethel; that it would be a pity for Ethel to find out hereafter that she had made a mistake, and much more of this sort. I clenched my teeth and kept silence, saying to myself that the drive would soon be ended. Then my stepmother shot her last arrow. “Don’t you think that Harry is much better suited to Ethel than you are? Everyone notices that she is much brighter and cheerier in his company than in yours. Her little fortune would be a help to him and you do not need it; and, besides, I know that you would not stand in the way of her happiness,” and here my stepmother wiped her eyes gently, as if the tears were coming in spite of herself. “Do you mean to tell me that my brother Harry loves Ethel and that she would return his love if I released her?” “I mean to tell you nothing. Ihave said only what I thought to be right. human being should have a share. When I had reached the age of | twenty-five these aims in life were realized. I held an independent busi- | ness position and my income was large enough to support a wife and give her | a home in which she would be sur- rounded by every comfort that dainty womanhood needs. Fortune had fa- vored me from the moment in which I bad stepped over the threshold of my father’s house, and now my stepmother | was loud in my praises and most anxions the elder brother should also push the fortunes of her ‘poor, dear boys.” She even put it to me tearfully whether I had not better remain un- married for their sakes and play the part of the benevolent bachelor uncle to their prospective children. But I had other views in life, Un. known to her I had fallen deeply in love with Ethel Templeton, a budding belle of the pretty little interior city in which we lived. Up to the time when, at seventeen, she had made her formal debut in society, I had seen no one who had excited more than ordinary | miration on my part, but from the i oment | was presented to stately, | winsome Ethel I vowed myself to her, | heart and soul, My Jove 4s 80 great i that I seemed rather to avoid than to tourt her, so fearful was I of fright- ening and losing her by a premature | outburst of volcanic fires that raged in my breast, and were with dif- ficulty kept hidden under a calm exte- rior. The circumstances of my early life had made me extremely reticent. | had no confidants as a boy and as | grew to manhood I made no bosam friend to whom I talked of myself. 1 could not have done it if I had tried, for the habit of years of reticence was upon me sud could not be broken. So no one guessed my passion for sweet Ethel Templeton and no one ever ven- tured to speak to me about my atten- tions to her. At last I spoke my love. We bad been acquainted for a year and her eighteenth birthday had come. I had been waiting for it, and in the morn. ing I sent to her home my offering of flowers with a note requesting that | might have the favor of an interview in the afternoon. In the cosy little library of her mother's home, with the scent of June roses stealing in through the windows, I told Ethel Templeton that 1 had loved ber from the first mo- ment I had seen her. It was some- what of a surprise to the gentle girl, though, with a woman's intuition, she had always known that I had liked her ‘‘passing well.” When her mother came into the room shortly afterwards Ethel’s hand was in mine and her cheeks were ns red as the roses at the window. The mother only lived for the daughter's happiness, and [ left the house the betrothed lover of Ethel Templeton. of course my step-mother did not like it. She said so with emphasis, but at last appeared to be resigned to the inevitable, and the family made a great deal of Ethel. This pleased me, and | was glad to see the oldest of the boys, ny half brother Harry, who was just six months older than my be- trothed, a frequent visitor at the house, In my new-born happiness | was will- ing to forget the wretchedness and loneliness of the past. One day my step-mother asked me to take her out for a drive, and added that she wanted a chance to talk to me by myself. Her Faust gave form to suspicions that had been forming for some time in my mind that there were sharp claws under the velvet of her touch. Yet I had no ressun for any feure and 1 only congratulated myself that I wus finally free from her influ. ences. Perhaps my self-congratula- tion wns premature, The rest you can find out for vourself,” Not another word was spoken the drive, but my blood was rapidly rising up to fever heat and i spoke {tO no one ex ep tO give direc- about the horse and then sought own room to feed the fires of to call at Ethel's it was suitable was that of a moody madman. There was a sound of music as I neared the house, and when the parlor, unannounced as Ethel was seated at the piano playing an accompaniment while Harry sang an old-fashioned love ballad. They were a handsome couple, I could see that at a glance, and well matched physically, and my jealous imagination supplied all the rest. His attitude was love-like, and she—I] dared not look at her, I retreated softly out of the room and went to the library and sat there fer that came from They were together and me. » At last they went to the outer door together, lingered too long, 1 thought—and then Ethel having a happy hour evidently did not miss the library. #0 slow ? “on with the new?” “Why, Frank, when did youn come in?” was my darling’s glad greeting. As she came towards me with both hands outstretched and a happy smile on her lips, she suddenly stopped and cried amusingly, “what is the matter? What makes you look like that?” The demon of jealousy which had been at work in my heart all the eve- ning had at last mastered me. My rage distorted everything and even the sweet face before me could not calm the storm. 1 rose to my feet and put forth one repelling hand. “Ethel—before we go any farther you must answer me one question. Do you love me, or has my brother Harry usirped my place? My stepmother told me today that I was too old and grave for you and that you preferred my brother's society—but I gave no credence to it until I stood in the parlor tonight and heard your new lover singing a love ditty to you. Answer me-—are you true to your promise to me, or do you love him?” The face of my betrothed seemed to turn to marble as 1 spoke and her form grew statelier with indignant wrath. No one but a madman would have persisted in the terrible mistake that I was making. “Gio!” was all the reply she made. “1 have no explanation to make to the man who has doubted my word.” Her hard pointed to the , and though it was not yet too late for re. pentance I passed out into the darkness insane with jealously. Five years passed before I saw again the face of Ethel Templeton. Imme- diately after our engagement was broken off I had sold out my business and gone to one of the great Atlantic cities, My stepmother wrote to me from time to time, and reldom without alluding to the prospects of Harry's marriage, and at hast she annou it as A Axed fact. Determined notte ¥ looked upon as a rejected swain, made swift courtship to a pretty, friv. olous butterfly of fashion, whose alli- ance was supposed to be a step in social advance for me, and we were «lily married. Then I went to Burope with my wealthy wife and made a tour of the continent as befitted a fashionable couple. It was on a I Linve never forgotten that ten-mile sede thirouoh the misty October enn. Cwhibae to ibe little lake sot like a din #* from iiverpod] gn ork that saw Ethel after our separation, A little statelier, a trifle thinner, she I v BE _— ie was still Ethel Templeton. We met as strangers and I dared not question the friends who were escorting her, but my heart gave a leap of joy when I heard she was yet unmarried. The next moment I knew how I had ship- wrecked my life and what an idiot | had been to listen to the stories of a woman whose only thought was to make me a tool for the advancement of her sons, No one can yet hear without a thrill of horror the details of the collision in mid-ocean which sent the good ship Cleopatra on which we were embark- ed to 8 midnight grave. A great crash was followed by one prolonged shriek from hundreds of terrified souls, and then came the panic of crew and passengers, the lowering of boats and rafts into the tempestuous abysses of the sea, death in the darkness of the waves, cries for help that might have rent heaven, & sudden lurch and plunge and the final disappearance of the sorely wounded vessel under the surging waters, Ethel, my wife and I were in one of the boats when the steamer went down, and the eddies caused by the final plunge swamped the boat and threw us all into the sea. It was the work of a moment to swim tO & Cross- tree that was floating near, and as soon as I found myself in safety | turned to find the arms of Ethel and my wife stretched out to me as they battled with the devouring waves. Which should I take? I knew in that supreme moment that 1 still loved Ethel and had never loved another, and that my wife had always been a stran. ger to my heart. Love prompted me to save Ethel at any cost. Never was man so sorely tempted as I was in that moment of time which seemed to stretch out to eternity while the temptation lasted. I knew that | should be virtually a murderer if I let my wife go down to death: but ah, how could I abandon the woman to whom I cried aloud “Ethel!” and she smiled even in the agonyof death, Then, with arms inspired to duty by her, | { drew my wife up on the erosstree and | for the first time in my life | | dead away, | recovered, and there was | by other hands, | | but there was no reply. called to my wife, FOUND THE DIAMONDS. HOW A TURKISH DETECTIVE RE. COVERED STOLEN JEWELS, He Poses ae a Merchant and Invokes the Aid of a Tribe of Turcomans. Some years ago the diamonds of the Austrian Ambassador at Constanti- nople were stolen from her toilet table. A large reward was offered for their recovery, and Dindar, one of the secret police-agents of the Grand Vizier, was given the case. In course of a week Dindar got a clue to the perpetrators of the robbery The plunderers were numerous: and § | Strange Mesmerft Phenomenon, The following strange mesmerio story o$ ears in Luelfer, the magazine of the Theosophists edited by H, ?, Blavatsky: I will tell you now a strange case, You remember, perhips, that for over five years before my com- ing to meet you in Paris (1884) I suf. fered almost constantly from a violent pain in my right erm. Whether it was rheumatism, nenralgia or anothing else, I do not know, but besides great physical pain, I felt my arm becoming with every day more powerless, so that when rising from sleep I could hardly lift or even move it. This made me dread final paralysis. Then I went to Paris. You also remember the little M. Evette, the doubt of finding a ready market, Dindar found out their route, and on the arrivals of the rascals at Kars, a respectable merehant Koordistan, in a high cap of black sheepskin and a huge robe, entered their caravanserai, and very dexter. ously managed to extract from them, in the course of conversation, avowal that they had diamonds sale. For these the pretended chant, who was no other than himself, offered to give a handsome price, and thus save them the trouble of continuing their journey to the capital of Persia. of bargaining, the robbers agreed to sell the jewels for 90,000 piastres, or £900 sterling; and, with for mer- produced a heavy leathern counted out the sum in silver beschliks, The money was some counterfeit coin manufactured in England or Russia by a gang of coiners, The robbers left Kars joyfully on At their first place, however, some of the | and trying to restore me to life, | That was five years ago, for the { three years Ethel has been my wife | She forgave me readily when iat her feet and asked forgiveness, last i | had let the eat out of the bag, how | | had been made the victim of her am- | bitious schemes for her eldest born. She had always loved me, she said, and would never have married any but her first and only love. Our married life has no clouds. But there is one secret which I have always kept from my wife—how near- ly I was tempted to mu er when her white hands were lifted imploringly to me from the waves of the Atlantic and {| knew that «f 1 left those other hands that bore a wedding ring to sink unde the waters I would be free to win Ethel back. Let me add that I have ceased to be | 8 jealous man. — no sas ins Joaquin MMler’s Western Home, A slender, sparely built man, well long, yellowish { white hair that lay on his shoulders in curls, sat for a long time in front of the Leland Hotel, Chicago. He was dressed in black, moderately well worn and not of the latest cut. At his throat a loose white neck scarf was negligently caught over a diamond collar-button. On one of his fingers glistened a large, brilliant yellow dia- mond that was in strange contrast to the seamed and tanned hand. In speaking of his home in California, he said: “ Itisa terrestrial paradise. | shall live there until I die. Youknow I went there by almost an socident, but it brought me satisfaction and even fortune, for I am a rich man at last. Three years ; when | went out to California with Col. Howard and Mr. Sutro, we arranged to plant a little Island off San Diego with trees, We had hardly done so when fire killed them. Then I went to San Francisco and bought my little tract of ground in the mountains. It is two miles from Oakland, and 750 feet above the ocean. For 200 acres I paid from $50 to $75 per acre, and now they want to buy it for town lots. Iam really rich, but I have worked hard,” and the Western poet glanced at his hardened hands, ““ It is my philosophy. It is the founda- tion of my latest and longest work, ‘The life of Christ.’ He breaks least commandments who lives by the sweat of his brow. In three years I have planted 15,000 trees. t it would take me only a short time, but | am still at it, and I and my mother shall always live among them.” —————I iS The Latest Thing Abroad, The latest thing in fashion for men in England is known as the American shoulder. It consists of a coat padded at the shoulders in a manner quite un- ique. Pieces of lead of quite an im- posing size are employed in the pro- cess, and when the dude is properly “fixed up” he appears with a sort of epaulet arrangement, calculated to transfix the gaze of the less enlight- ened observer. The “Am - only Coming into vogue, but it was y co uous in Piceadilly, London, pie. day afternoon. A London tailor says that he is puting Swelve ounces of some of his “padding.” i along in years, with tunely the weary ride to Tehes interposed to save them At any rate, » contents of an. examined and 8 discovered the thieves the mo the } Le DOC nev-bag, iitnti : § imitations, hliks to be spurious The gang returned at full Kars, found the treacherous merchant in speed to i chibouque the sed riiliants him, which furiously deprived him of the id pipe-sticks, with the full and unquali- fled approbation of bystanders, and, finally, only abstained from drag. ing him before the Cadi from the fear that some of the party might be un- pleasantly familiar to the mvyrmidons or magistrates of Kars, Having thus regained possession of the diamonds, they hastened on to Teheran. the A fresh plan was soon formed, and Dindar mounted his horse and rode as fast as possible on the road toward Persia, and by seeking « unfre- quented pass in the mountain range had the gratification of arriving before the robbers. Hite It was some time before he en tered a band of nomads fit for purpose he had in view. At last he arrived among a tribe of Turcomans, 8 people, brave, hospitable and faith- ful, but with exceedingly medieval ideas of the rights of property. To of this horde, Sultan it the He had been cheated out of the price of a set of superb jewels which he had sold to some Kaffirs of merchants at Kars. The unbelieving dogs, rank heretics, as well as the swindlers, had taken away the money they had paid him for the diamonds by force after he had given his receipt; and when he complained grandsire of asses had taken a bribe from the thieves to apply the bamboo from the court. Whereupon had remained no other resource to the ill treated and disconsolate Dindar than to prostrate himself in the dust trembled, to put himself at the head rise the robbers on their road to 'eheran. the diamonds, the rascals had taken 90,000 piastres in silver in their pos. with the restitution of the gems, leav- i the money to his faithful ally, whom he finally implored by the beard of his father and the salt of his hospi- tality, to protect and avenge him. The Turcoman chief sympathised with the wronged and injured Dindar, and his eyes sparkled at the mention of the piastres. He to pumsh Dindar’s enemies, and to restore him the gems; and forthwith plucked his spear from the ground, where it was planted before his tent, mounted his steed, which bad borne him on many a day of battle, and called around him his young men, who mustered gladly at the first announcement of a foray. To the dismay and astonishment of the Stamboul thieves, as they emerged from the intricate passes of the moun- tains into the open plains they were charged by an overwhelmi Turcoman cavalry. Hal number fell beneath the scimitars and lances of Sultan Moorad and his fol- lowers; and the survivors, having been stripped and plundered, were detained in the wild It was you, I believe, who suggested that he should try to cure my arm of the pain I was suffering from, and vou from the right shoulder downward | felt better. Then he visited us regu- larly every day for some time, failed to mezmerize my arm. After five or six seances my arm was entirely cured, all pain had disappear. ed, its weakness also, to such an extent had MN on stronger than my left one, which never given me any trouble. after we parted. | returned to Odessa, and never feeling any pain in that arm I very soon lost every remembrance of my past suffering. “But lo, and behold! On January 1st, 1859, I suddenly felt with dismay me. At first I paid no great attention to it, thinking it would soon pass over. But the pain remained; my arm began once more to feel half-paralvzed, when before, Still, I hoped that it was but a slight cold which would disappear in It did not, however, My disillusion magnelism Wis 5 rrecal te time, Worse, mit became 4 as 10 the tency a one, in my : f half Vie irs | . “Thus 1 wenteon suffering till mith, anuary end of the m oeLy ed the J Hevue S ing for now, as I did | to look it through, under the title of “Obituary my eye caught these lines: ‘Le 15 Jan- vier courant, on portait « wi pirite, wh Noti es q es,’ n terre 5 ia magnetiseur puissant.” (On January 156th Mr. Henry Evette, a powerful mes. merizer.) 1 felt sorry for the old man, evidently the same that we me, 15 with If he January new January buried style 3d in on means tussia. us was uary Ist, or thereabouts, since in France, as elsewhere, i le are rarely buried before the third dav after their death. He must have died, then, on New Year's day, when the long-forgotten pain had turned into the arm he fully cured some vears before! an extraordinary occurrence ! [ thought. I was thunderstruck, as it could be a simple coincidence. we explain this? Would it not mean that the mesmeric passes had left in my arm some invisible particles of a cur WO i re. a ry, THE DENOUEMENT ———— Watch his expression as he reads § Bee how be bends with bated bresth O'er some romance of wondrous deeds Of mystery snd swiul death, But, toward the bottom of the page His eyes with sudden anger tend, He sees—and snorts with helpless rage The advertisement st the end, or ———— FUN, cont a The man with a boil on his neck never borrows trouble; he has enough of it. Strange is slang, you ‘“‘get on” to ““‘tumble.” It is just when & thing that you Honor and shame from no condition rise. Some men were lowly born on whom there are no flies. Jepson— “Why is it that men marry widows?” Jobson— They don't. It | is the widows that marry them.” Johnny (watching his big brother dig angle-worms for bait) —«I sav, Bob, if a worm will catch a little fish, wouldn't a snake catch a whopper?” wife as is Mrs, “Never “1 will “Dear, said a physician's | they sat in church, “there | Goldburg sitting in a draft.” | mind,” said her husband. | cash that draft later on.” “Whar gwine, Sambo?’ «“Gwine to | court to testify.” «What for?” «Oh, | gemman stole a pair ob boots las’ night { an’ I ‘greed to gib him a good charac- | ter for ha'f a dollar.” Mistress— Bridget, do you know | what aii that crowd was on the corner | this morning?’ Bridget—«Yis, mem. | It was the police was a-taking a lady to the Joog. She had been fight 1g.” “Well, what do you think of the new neighbors who have moved in next door, en’t had a « } haven't had a wa iy il Mrs. Pryer?” hance to for 01 i the aU now, Ang me I want wo a litt put on his invita- we letters puzzled + Who und i supper that they ) le supper tions B. ~. 1. SOIN« peopl went to the 3 “Bring some ox “Where did you get Annie?’ «Mother gave it to “She's always a-giving vou mose'n she does me.” «Never mind, Harry: she's going to put mustard plasters on | us to-night, and I'll ask her to let you have the biggest.” when they meant: id victuals, that 1. CaARe, . oy me Fond lover {afi r' 8 olay ed proposal y——Perhaps 1 have LOO sudden, darling.” Darling girlire- gaining her composure with a mighty effort)— Yes, George, it is very, very sudden, but” —and here she’ became faint again-—<<it is not too sudden.” A seedy individual being told that his coat “looked as if it hadn't had a nap in a dozen years,” replied: «I beg your pardon, but this coat has been lying in my wardrobe two and twenty return of pain, and had been, in short, conducive to a healthy circulation in it, hence of a healthy state, so far? Bat i death—who knows? perhaps, at the very hour—these mysterious particles suddenly left me! Whither have they gone? Have they returned to him ane lifeless sister-particles; simply disappeared, because the vital Who can tell? | would if I could have some experi enced mesmerizer, or those who know about it, answer me and suggest an explanation. Doesany one know of return in their former shape to the tients who survive him, or whether is an unheard-of cose? Is ita com- mon law, or an exceptional event? It does seem to me that this case with my arm is a very remarkable and suggest ive one in the dorain of magnetic cures, EE... a A Cat Comm/s Suicide, A tabby cat belonging to the family of David B. Paul, Wallingford, is re- ported to have ovmmitted suicide while grieving over the loss of her family of five kittens that had been drowned in order t@ keep down the eat population. missed her offspring she went tearing over the house, showing her great dis tress by loud mewing. Failing to find the kittens after a long search she went up to the third story and deliber. ately jum out on the porch roof below. hen picked up old tabby was dead, her neck being broken in the * An Old Book. “Where Have You Been?” is the title i { i | i i i to have had a good long nap.” “How do you do, Sam?” gsaida colored gentleman to one of his cronies the other day. “Why you no come to If 1 lib as near you as you do to me I'd come to see you ebery “De fack is,” replied Sam, “my wife patch my trouserloons so all to pieces I "shamed to go nowhars.” “Young man,” said the banker. “I've decided that it’s about time for tions toward the hand of my daughter.” “Oh, thank yon, sir. But wouldn't it be better to wait till after we are mar- ried, then the check could come as a wedding present. It would save my feelings a great deal.” A storekeeper was boasting in the presence of a customer ‘‘that he could secure a quarter of a pound of tes ins smaller piece of paper than any other man in the country.” Yes,” mid Zedekiah Dryasdust, who chanced to hear the remark, ‘and you'll put a pint of rum in a smaller bottle than any other man that I ever see, any anyway.” Young Girl (at fortune-teller's- “What! I'm going to a pom man and have seventeen children! It's outrageous! My friend Sarah had ber fortune told her, and you said she was to marry a millionaire and live on Fifth avenue. Here's your quarter.” Fortune-teller, with dignity—«Your friend Barsh got a fifty-cent fortune, miss. “Hane,” said one German to another in the streets of Frankfort, “what are you crying about?’ «I'm be- cause the great Rothschild is > was the reply. “And why should you cry about that?” was the further + ‘He was no relation of yours, was he?” «No,” was the answer, a oared I toby,» 1 ’ w am ing for.” a oy 8
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers