LOS ,
Somelbing is gone;
L know it by this paing
But yesterday I had it,
To-morrow, though I bade it,
It would not come again
Jomething is gone;
What shall we that thing call?
A touch, a tore that thrilled me,
A hidden joy that filled me?
Say, that is all,
And now "tis gone,
Lightly as first it came}
Tie sky a little colder,
The heart a littls older,
All else the same.
All else the same!
O death, all-covering ses,
Come with thy floods and drown me
That thing I sought to crown me
Was all the world to me.
A Wild-Goose Chase.
It is best on the whole not to read
your husband's letters until he hands
not to examine his pockets, except for
holes, then set aside whatever you find
there without examination.
I believe little Mrs. Elliot would
give any young wife that advice to
made herself an amateur detective. as
holes
Oe
that she could not explain
that had something in it
about Clara particularly. It was only
half a letter, but it was suspicious.
to betray the fact intentionally, but
there is no keeping a secret of that sort
from the servants. They knew it,
other people guessed at it.
Her fancies about Clara—oh, who
rumaging and prying
her.
often was, she suffered tortures. He
might, for all she knew, be leading a
double life, and so she steamed all his
letters open before she forwarded
thing that might mean more than it
said, and so we come to an afternoon,
when she, Mrs. Elliot, came down
she always made a careful toilet, and
met the waitress ascending to
apper floor. The girl's place at that
moment was in the dining-room, and
air of secrecy about her, and seemed to
be hiding something under her apron.
“What's that yon have there, Rose
Mrs. Elliot asked, a little sharply.
The girl stopped, looked down and
answered :
“Only a letter ma’m.”
“For yourself?” asked Mrs. Elliot.
girl.
“Well, glve it to me,” said Mrs
Elliot.
The girl heistated.
give it to himself,” said Rose.
’
suppose,” said Mrs. Elliot.
“She wore a blue
“Give me the note. Mr. Elliot is shav-
Ing and would not wish to be disturb-
ed ”
ed down stairs in a way that made her
mistress resolve to give her warning.
biue veil had given Rose some money
~had whispered: «Mr. Elliot, and no
one else,” and had hurried away in a
suspicious manner.
Mrs, Elliot meanwhile stood turning
the envelope over. The address was
merely her husband's name—Mr,
was still damp, as if sealed at the
door.
she could read it and know its contents
if she chose.
“I do choose,” she said the next
moment, and the edge of the envelope
rolled back and a slip of paper fell out.
On it was written these words:
Dear FRANK:
place if you can dodge your wife, CLARA.
A moment more and the letter was
resealed, and Mrs. Elliot,
with anger, stood leaning against the
window frame. She felt that the dread
that had been upon her had taken shape
at last,
However, she would not be hasty,
Bhe would wait until she was sure that
he desired to receive the letter. If he
did not obey the summons it would
rove to her that he was true to her.
hen she would tell him what she
knew and ask his confidence,
She carried the letter down stairs
with her and placed it at his plate, and
It certainly did not seem to please
him. He frowned, changed color and
thrust it into his pocket; but he went
on with his dinner without any re-
mark.
Mrs. Elliot, however, could not re-
main silent.
“You look as th ou tnd re-
sive a plumber’s b.
e »
“It’s not a bill,” he said; “it’s a note,
and it vexes me use I shall have to
change my plans for tonight. I in-
tended to take you to the theatre; now
I cannot do it. I shall have to leave
; and, what Is more, I shall not be
oo until tomorrow night. I'll send
a messenger to Unele James. He will
escort you to the theatre, and —"
“1 will not hf fr uncle
Sharply,
not
”
’
ames,” said . Bil
ou must take me: I will
&
used In this way; you must go with
me.”
“My dear, I cannot tell you how
vexes me to have to leave yon,” sad
Mr. Elliot,
“Frank,” she answered, “I have
always said that there are some things
which a wife should not endure.”
“Lizzie, my dear, listen. I will
take you to the theatre tomorrow night
or the night after; we will enjoy our-
selves quite as well. I think it will
rain to-night, anyhow.”
“Do you suppose I am a baby to fret
about not seeing a play?” said Mrs.
Elliot. No, Frank; only you must
tell me why yov break the engage-
Tuent, and where you are going.”
“Business, my dear, business,” said
Mr. Elliot, in an artificial manner.
“I'll explain some day. Business is
business; now be quiet and comfortable
like a good girl. Good night.”
He tried to kiss her, but she pushed
him away. Then he took his hat and
overcoat and left the house, with a
little laugh not like his own.
Hardly had he passed the threshold
when his wife sprung to her feet, slip-
| ped on an ulster that hung in a closet
| in the dining-room hall, donned a little
{ round cap and gray veil and sneaked
| out of the basement door—sneak was
{ the word.
“She's following him this
said Rose to the cook.
“‘Jealous again,” said cook.
time,
| said Rose.
‘It’s something dreadful,” said gck,
‘the way married men go on.”
shadow of the stone balustrades, and
saw that her husband stood unde the
note which he had received.
{ Well, wherever he w ent, there also
t she would go. Whomsoever he might
meet should also meet her. This was the
end of everything, the finale. But she
| would not weep—she would have long
| years for that—she would behave as ap
insulted wife should.
He was about to enter a car: she al*
| 80 hailed it. An ulster and a thick veil
reduce all women to one level. He
would not know her if he saw her.
She sat in her corner and saw that he
stood on the platform smoking. Which
way the car was going she scarcely no-
ticed. He left it at and entered
another; Again he smoked
Fort lee
and
fer.
though i
of
Inst
Ni) did she,
| Ferry!” shouted the conductor,
she followed her husband into the
ryboat. It was dark, and
did not rain the air was full
ure. There were very fow
on the boat, but several of te
brutal looking men, and they
her, seeming to wonder at her
veil. She had forgotton
and her small, white hands glistened
with rings, some of them very valua-
ia
ia
r
fared at
thick
gloves,
her
As she left the ferry, and, following
ner husband's figure, crossed the great
track of a railroad, she trembled with
terror. As he ascended the bluff she
| kilted her skirts and followed.
| Who could Clara be?
of woman was she to appoint a rendes-
| vouz like this? It was & p
| pery, unpleasant place. There was a
i drinking saloon hard by, which seemed
to be full of rough men. She drew so
near to her husband that conld
have touched his coat as they passed
| this place, but he did not look around.
And now it began to rain in
and the road they had turned into
seemed to be two feet deep with mud,
and still Mr. Elliot marched on.
At last a frightful thing occurred te
{ Lizzie. She wore upon her feet a pair
| of patent leather ties, and with all this
climbing and straining of the shoes the
ribbons had become undone. Suddenly
the inud caught at them with that
{ curious power of suction which mud
seems to have at times, and
| came off. In vain she felt around for
:
nasty, sii
she
earnest,
the shoes
¢
Yoioe
with
“Heilo!” said a
‘what's the matter
woman?”
“J—nothing!” gasped Mrs. Elliot
A large policeman stood before her,
“This ain't
woman to be Kiting around alone”
said the policeman.
if you're a decent girl.
j pened? Lost yourself!”
“No,” said Mrs. Elliot.
alone; there's my
Frank! Frank!”
Mr. Elliot turned
near
you, young
What's hap
“I'm not
husband! Frank!
: he said.
strode away.
{ Then Mr. Elliot, who Was a large
man, simply picked his little wife up
| grounds which encircled the
: platform. Then for a moment he van-
| ished and returned with a glass of
{ wine, which he made Mrs. Elliot drink.
“I've hired a cab,” he said; «we'll
drive back to the ferry. It's too
| stormy a night to go looking for Clara;
besides, she’s thousands of miles away.”
“Clara!” cried Mrs, Elliot. “Don’t
speak of Clara—how dare you?”
“She very nearly ruined me, my
dear. I threw away lots of money on
hor,” sald Mr. Elliot, “but she Is
looking up now. My dear, I know
you've been rummagi my pockets
and reading my letters for two years,
but I only found out what you suspect.
ed when my mother told ne that you
had asked her if I had ever known a
lady named Clara before I met you.”
“Oh, Frank, don’t to deceive
mel” sobbed Lizzie. “I read the note
the woman left to-night’
“Oh, I knew it,” said Mr. Elliot, «4
waa fixed for you to read. I wrote it
myself, and my mother left it at the
door at dinner time. I her
nal
I x
and
watched you ever since you left the
| door. My dear child, I never knew a
Clara in my life; I never had a doubt.
ful love affair even asa boy, The note
| you saw was about an oil well in which
I had shares, the Clara. She was a
| fickle creature, I admit, and made me
anxious, but since you were bound to
| be jealous ”
i “Carriage, sir?” said the driver.
| Mr. Elliot lifted his shoeless wife ine
to the vehicle, and half way home she
vowed that she would never forgive
| him, but the other half she wept upon
his vest.
“I felt so helpless without my
| shoes,” she declared, «that my spirit
was fairly broken.”
. But at all events she was never jeal-
| ous of Clara again.—Fireside Compan-
fou.
SUBJECTS FOR THOUGHT,
|
tte
No thralls like them that inwara
{ bondage have.
| Our sorrow is the inverted image of
| eur nobleness,
|
' Love that has nothing but beauty to
! keep it in good health is short-lived
‘and apt to have ague fits,
| Know that ye are as near heaven as
| Ye are from yourself and far from the
love of a bewitching world.
The last lesson in life, the choral
| 8ong which rises from all elements and
all angels, is a voluntary obedience.
If we wish to be just judges of all
things, let us first persude ourselves of
this: that there is not one of us with-
out fault,
No man or woman of the humblest
' sort can really be strong, gentle, pure
and good without the world being the
better for it.
Clear thoughts patiently worked out
and freely interchanged before action is
called for are the only means of making
that action wise, permanent and effec.
tive,
Timidity creates cowards and never
wins success. ‘It is a strong and abid-
ing faith in one’s own ability to per
form which overcomes difficulties that
others think cannot be surmounted.
Delay
and happiness.
others not
In our relations with
do guickly that which we are able to
do for their comfort and pleasure.
Some favorable event raises your
spirits, and you think good days are
preparing for you. Do not believe it.
Nothing can bring you peace but your-
self. Nothing you peace
can bring
but the tri
amph of princely
He suspected
live and a
was t to gather
books, when they grew
live and still be going about,
green wisdom, ripening ever,
maxims cut and dry, but a
ready for daily occasions,
Lo
inte
lives—when an infinite harvest
be reaped out of them were
and taken, combined and re
with all freedom and harmony!
how continually is this work hindered
by our own unreceptivencss !
OE,
that the way truly to
purposes of
answer the
80 ai ¥.
full
not
, sympathy, help,
the
Ye knowledge,
ligence
might
Talents are usually shown in pref.
erences more or less strong, and
their and patient cultivation
pends the realization of our ideal. «To
him that hati be given,” is an in-
exorable The individual end to
hed w dlways vary: but
| the common end of success is fixed and
universal.
Wisi
shal ;
iw
be accompil
i
|
i
|
!
GHOSTS AND HANGMEN.
H0W PROVIDENCE HAS INTER.
FERED AT EXECUTIONS.
——
Reviving an Innocent Girl Who Was Duly
Hanged,
The Hammersmith ghost was quite s
celebrated character at the commence |
ment of the present century, and the
court records of 1804 contain quite a
goud description of him. For months
a tall white figure haunted the lanes
and churchyard of Hammersmith, now i
8 London suburb, but then a country i
town. Women were literally frightened
to death, and many men developed a
speed in escaping from the phantom |
which they had not flattered themselves
upon possessing. Ananti-ghost league
was formed, and all the able-bodied
men in the neighborhood took part in
8 vigorous, not to say vicious, hunt
for the cause of the alarm. This vigil. |
ance committee was unsuccessful, for, |
although its members caught a glimpse
of the phantom, it appeared to have
the power of vanishing at will, and no
trap could catch it. Finally the wife
of one Francis Smith was crossing the
churchyard at dusk, when the ghost
appeared and chased her home. The
poor woman was completely overcome
with fright, gave premature birth to a
child, and expired. Smith smarted
for revenge, and, taking his shotgun,
went out into the night to lay the
ghost. By this time it was very dark,
moving across the churchyard. With-
out delay he fired, and found to his
horror he had shot a neighbor who was
wearing a white dustcoat. Smith was
arrested, convicted, and sentenced to
death, but was not executed, and was
soon released from prison.
Among the many cases on record in
which alleged witches have been con-
demned to death, there sre few in
which any bona-fide evidence was
brought forward against the miserable
wretches, whose doom was sealed be-
fore their arrest. But the official re-
trial of two widows at
Bury St. Edmunds, in 1662, speak of
remarkable kind.
Thus when three of the complaining
witnesses came into court to swear
they fell down in fits,
and after screaming were struck dumb
when they immediately recovered the
The evidence at the
of corroboration was tedious,
Pains, aches, and other troubles were
who
man,
the
quite
been a humane
the prisoners to
The revelations were so
extraordinary that the jury convicted
the prisoners, who were duly executed,
“whereupon the sundry and divers
persons who had been bewliched and
troubled did regain their wonted viguor,
seems to have
decided to put
natural and proper causes.”
in the vear a young
aamed Anne Greene was tried at
for the murder of her
worms
Ox.
child.
ida
and many believed in the innocence of
the girl. But she was convicted, sen.
After hanging half an hour the
was cut down, placed ina coffin, and
be Al-
though the rope had not been removed,
and the noose was still tight, those who
opened the coffin observed a movement
body
dissected.
as his great aim in life? Many a man
proposes nothing at all to himself. He
does not seem to have the wit to look a
| single day ahead. Such a man pro-
| claims himself a beggars old shoe
Which lies by the roadside for every
chance traveller to kick at. If the
| “whips and seorns of time” are hard
upon him, whe i% to be thanked for it?
| Himself only. If his carlessness lands
him in an unsanitary home, if his stu-
pidity saddies him with an incompe-
tent medical attendant, if his idleness
| and inattention lead him into financial
difficulties, he can blame nobody but
| himself. He has deliberately labelled
himself a heedless blockhead, and
| everybody takes him at his own valua-
| don.
ili—————
SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE,
the Dangers of Life.
act of charity, set his foot upon ber,
and one Orum, a soldier, struck her
with the butt-end of his musket.” Bat
when the doctors came they found life
still existed. and proceeded to adopt
| trust the evidence of his own senses.
i A little colored boy and his father
stood watching in awe-struck admira-
tion the progress of an electric car.
As it finally disappeared in the dis-
tance, and they turned to walk away,
the boy inadvertently stepped on the
rails forming the track. Instantly
his father pulled him aside.
“ Don’ yo know no better'n dat?”
cried he. “You might ha’ had a
shock, and died in yo’ tracks.”
“Bho, dad! dat cyar's a mile away
by dis time,” said the lad, scornfully;
but his father looked at him with an
expression of pitying wisdom.
“Ef you don’ learn no mo'n dat at
school it’s time you stayed at home,”
said he. ¢ Don’ dey send "lectricity
way over to England on a cable?”
“ Yes, dad.”
Don’ folks get killed when lighten-
ing comes down outen de clouds, mil
lions ob miles? »
ing a vein, laying her in a warm bed,
and also using divers remedies respect-
ing her senselessness, insomuch that in
fourteen hours she began to pray very
heartily.” This revival was regarded
by the people as an interposition of
Providence on behalf of the innocent.
But the hangman was less superstitions,
and demanded the girl so that he might
‘‘compiete her executionon her.” The
doctors refused to comply with the
request, secured a formal pardon for
the young woman, who married, and
lived happily for many vears,
Early in the eighteenth century »
man named Smith was committed at
the York Assizes of house-breaking
and sentenced with many others, to be
hanged. The evidence against the ac-
cused was very unsatisfactory, and
would not have secured his detention
for an hour in this enlightened and
mereiful age. Smith was promised a
commutation if he would confess, but
he continued to protest his innocence.
He was hanged for fifteen minutes,
He soon re-
covered, “in consequence of bleeding |
and other applications,” and lived wev- |
His account of his glimpse
into eternity is thus reported by repu-
table eye and ear witnesses: —
“When he was turned off he for
f
i
|
at
ain, occasioned by the weight of his
¥y and felt his spirits in a strange
commotion, violently pressing upward ;
that having forced their way to hie
head he, as it were, saw a great blaze
out at hiseyes with a flash, and then
he lost all sense of pain. That after
he was cut down, and began to como
to himself, the blood and spirits, fore-
ing themselves into their former cliane
, put him by a sort of pricking or
to such intolerable pain that
wished those hanged who
went astray
for he
was in the
ior, the’ hangman.
“"
this second occasion suffer from a re-
turn of those revival pains be so vivid-
ly described.
Those who have no belief in modern
miracles and are sceptical as to remark-
able exercises of Providential aid may
say these cases are all old, and that
much that is supernatural in them may
be accounted for by the superstition of
the ages and by the insccuracy of
records. But there was a case at
Bristol, during the present decade,
in which there can be no possible in-
accuracy of record, for the facts were
fully reported in all the leading jour-
nals, and were discussed in Parliament
atthe time. An elderly lady was found
dead in her bed, and her butler, & man
named Lee, was arrested for the crime.
There seemed little evidence against
the man, except his presence in the
his conviction and sentence was re-
ceived with some surprise. The scaf-
fold was erected by the professional
hangman who tested it and found it to
work all right, Lee was led up the
steps, protesting his innocence to
last. The hangman pulled back
bolt, but the trap did not fall.
but it still resisted.
Finally the bolt was replaced and the
miserable Lee led to ome side. On
investigation nothing was found
wrong, and indeed the trap fell of
oyn weight. Again it was adjusted
fused to act. A superstitious aw
tators, which was increased when
hangman tried for the third time to
complete his task. Six deputies
stamped simultaneously on the trap-
door which resisted all efforts, and,
after over an hour's delay the sherif]
ordered the prisoner back to his cell,
and telegraphed to the Home Secretary
for instructions. The case was dis-
the
cided that as Lee could pot be hanged
stead. Lee attributed his escape to
Providence, and when three years ago
ted the murder, and disclosed where |
the widow's valuables had been ocon-
cealed, public opinion endorsed his at
first ridiculed assertions, especially as
the rebellious trap-door was gubse.
quently used on the actual murderer
with marked success.
e————
A Spanish Legend,
A certain young Spanish friar, »
skilful painter, especially delighted in
devising new aspects of blessedness
and beauty for the Virgin, and in set
ting forth the devil in the mest re.
pulsive and extravagant ugliness
Satan bore this as best he could for
some time, but at last he determined t«
be revenged. He assumed the guise
of & most lovely maiden, and the un
happy friar, being of an amorous dis-
position, fell into the trap. She
smiled sweetly on her shaven wooer,
but would not surrender her beauty at
8 loss price than the rich reliquaries
of the treasury of the
monastery. In an evil hour the poor
painter sdmitted ber at
within the convent wallg, and she to
from the antique cabinet the preci
things sho desired. Then,
wound their way through the
cloister, the sinful friar clutching
booty with one arm, and his beauty
with the other, the demon
denly cried out, “Thieves!” with
bolical energy.
Up started all the snoring monks,
and rushed in disorder from their cells,
detecting the unlucky brother making
off with the plate. Him they tied safo
to a pillar, leaving him there til)
next day should determine his punish.
ment, while the brethren went back to
their pillows or their pravers: and
then the cruel devil appeared in
his real shape to the painter,
taunting and twitting him and making
unmerciful mockery of his amor
overtures and his pravers—advising
bim now to a; the beauty
#0 loved to delineate in CR
The penitent monk took the advice and
lo! the radiant mother of de-
scended in all her heavenly loveliness,
unbound his cords, bade Lim fasten
the evil one in his place to the column,
and appear among the monks the next
morning at mating, which he did,
the great surprise of the brethren. He
voted for his own condemnation; but
when they went to the sacristy and
found everything marvellously correct
in its place, and when they went to the
column and found the devil fast
bound, they forgave the erring Lrother
and administered a tramendons flog-
ging to the devil. The monk became |
not only “a wiser and a Letter man,”
but a better artist; he was now able to
paint the Virgin more screncly beauti- |
ful, the arch-enemy more sppalingly
ugly than ever,
a ————
midnight
ok
He
As
ly sud-
send i¥
dia
the
poor i
we
pe al to he had
¥
NVases |
his
neres
0
¢
i
s—
Bound for a Binge, i
I'wo Michigan girls escajed from |
the State Industrial ilome and traoped
thirty miles across esuntey, begeing .
food as they wont. They had a Little |
money, but they couldn't waste it on |
food; they chorished in their maiden |
breasts a pure and lofty ideal, which |
were powerless to remove. Saturday
night they arrived at a village, and
trembling wiih eagerness at pro-
spective realization of their hopes they
took the 50 cents, which wes their all,
and went to the barber and got their
hair banged.
Unlucky, Yet Iueky,
While & French girl was play: g
with a rope about hor neck, the other
afternoon, in a Lake Vil.ge (N. In)
tenomont-house, tre buiding was
struek by light ing and, ol: he moty
y the rope was destroy yr
a current, bal the child
uninjured. A month
the same gi;
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
Evil is the veil of truth.
It adds relish to food to earn it.
Who 18 rich? He that is cor tent,
Cheerful looks make every dish a
feast,
Every man’s destiny lies in his own
hands,
The courageous politician has a heart
of steal,
Who 18 powerful?
his passion.
Who Is wise? He who learns from
everyone,
The progressive man Is always in
doubt,
_ Ethical teaching is dependent upon
literal authority,
Life is short,
all through life,
Sickness is Natur.'s way of saying;
“1 told you so,’
You can’t tell about the milk by the
color of the cow,
He who can feel ashamed will not
readily do wrong,
The rich man is never so happy as
the bappy one 1s rich,
A church bell, like truth, should no
be tolled at all times, t
The hole 47 a boy's trousers outlasts
He who governs
and so are most of us
Obstinacy is ever most positive when
the wrong,
A loafer has no right that a busy max
18 bound to respect.
The man who can do a thing or let fit
alone never lets it alone.
It requires no self-denial for a pawn-
People go to walering-places to ex-
Confidence is just as good as
until it is betrayed,
People who reserve their own Ideas
mousy
A little man In a big place can be *‘a
big man in a little place,”
A man will never getlower than wien
he sts upon a supposition,
Don’t refuse to lend your ax to the
Ian you asked to sharpen it,
A pleasant recognition is the force of
kindness of the human heart.
There is always a corner ina real
estate where two streets enlervene,
People who say sharp thing often get
the reputation of being blunt,
The worst of Infidelity is that which
praises God, but never obeys him,
Men do not gather grapes of thorns
nor figs of thistles,
Dia you ever know a flock of geese to
elect a fox to govern them,
The rich do not seek to hold office for
the were honor of serving the poor.
The effect of virtue deceives the af-
fected more than its effect upon others,
Honesty never has to crowd any body
in order to get room to make a living,
Time dest roys the speculations of man,
but it confirms the judgment of nature,
In the expression of a desire for lib-
erly, one betrays a possession of it.
The opportunity of man to progress
i8 not given to him; it belongs to him.
The thing which a man should do in
one lime cannot be done in another
Lime,
It isa small boy gelting his khair
combed who knows the paln of a part.
ing,
The veneering is preity thin ona
great many of the polished gentlemen
You meet,
Do not keep in the middle of the
road, brother, unless you belong to the
procession,
To be effectual. sympathy should be
given as a draught—not applied exter
nally,
Come to think of it, how can you ex-
pect the poor to be cootented when the
rich never are.
Every cominunity is crowded with
peop'e who want the best of everything
except religion,
Mos* proverbs are founded on facts,
Perhaps the straw that broke the cam-
el’s back was a bale,
The man who is trying to climb up
finds lots of heels above him and lots of
£stx behind him,
Of all the lichts that you carry in
your face, joy is the ove that will reach
It is true, though it sounds paradoxi-
cal, thal a man never bas any trouble
in finding trouble.
No one shou'd point out aduaty to one
with whom he would not exchange al.
vice,
Depravity may be natural, but the
man who can barely earn lis livieg is
too busy to enltivate it.
Outward perfection without inward
Roodness sets but the blacker dye upon
the mind's deformity.
People suffer more instrivi g to evalte
the responsibilities of Jife, th n by ac.
cepting them cheerfully.
No society is free from wickedness
which depends for support upon the
laborer “untic for society"
Freedom Is not taught, for whoever
follows their teaching is no more ‘ree
than a horve follow ing a halter.
Ideas should never be withheld for
fear they would be smeercd at, for the
moan who waits to hear them from others
will be too fur behind,
If the elevated class desires the com:
pany of the lower class it would be ax
economy of time to rome dows, for it's
a long pull to get up.