.
A Thousand Cheers,
A thousand cheers for the blighted life,
The lonely one~ wa daily meet,
The sad, sad lot—a knight in the strife
Is trodden down by rapid feet,
He needs our band in the neartiess race,
The voice of love might calm his fears,
Qar smile might brighten his care won
face,
Inspire his life with a thousand cheers.
A thousand cheers for the sewing giril
With her tired Lands and her heavy
heart
Though pure in sonl-.unknown in the whic
Of movey-makers in city mart.
O beautiful lower on the toilsome path,
OQ jewel rare for the weary eyes,
O thought sublime that her toiling hath
A thousand cheers from the starry, skies
A thousand cheers for the honest boy,
Unlearned in schemes of fame
wealth,
Whose steps are heralds of restless joy— |
The restless joy of rugged health. |
The clouds may shadow, some sunny day, |
This picture gilt with morning light,
But honor on earth still finds a way i
And room emough for a deed of right, |
ang
A thousand cheers for the man of might! |
Who bravely strives when others full,
Who marches on to the losing fight
When rights go down and wrong
prevail,
The man who bears the scorn
frown i
And Censure’s bitter blasting breath,
Receives at last, a dear-bought crown, |
A thousand cheers at the gates of death
i
and thy
A CRUEL WRONG AVENGEL
|
On the piazza of a spacious residenc |
on the plantation of Mark Denham, i
Alabama, sat two gentlemen in earnes
conversation. The elder was aboui|
forty years of age, the other but twenty: |
three. The former was the owner ol
the plantation, and the young man, |
Louis Hirst, was a visitor in the vicin- |
ity; he had seen Eis Denham, the]
piece of Mr. Denham, a beautiful bra. |
mette of twenty, and fallen in love with}
her, She loved him in turn, and he |
was now asking her uncle's consent tc
the union. A peculiar smile lit up the |
feats es of the planter, which he soughi |
to conceal from the pleader, He faced
the young man and said:
*“I'ne significance of your words, as 1
understand them, implies that you wan!
the girl for your wife?”
Hirst inclined his
planter continued: ;
“Well, young man, I cannot say thai
I have any objections to the match. |
suppose you have seitled matters be
tween yourselves?” he asked, and again
the peenliar triumphant smile illumined
his features,
“Yes, sir,” was the respopse, *‘and
she reierred me to you.”
“And very proper, {00,” Denham re
jomed. “You have my consent; bul
before you wed her you should be lei]
into a litile secret of her pedigree—i
secret she does not know berself, I be |
Heve,”
“] think I have heard that whiel |
yd reser to,” was the smilivg rejoin.
der. i
“Indeed!” exclaimed the planter, iv
surprise. *‘I cannot believe it,” |
“You refer to the flight of Ela’s/
father after that fatal duel, ten year
ago, do you not?” asked Hirst,
*Nn; that is a trivial matter in com. |
n to what I have to reveal. Lis. |
ten, I will relate the story in a few
words, You have, I presume, observed
the handsome quadroon Woman wo
officiates as housekeeper in the fami y?”
*Yes, and a handsome, as well as’
intelligent and refined woman she ap-
pears to be,” rejoined the young man,
quite unprepared for what was coming,
“She 18 Ella Denham's mother I” |
“My Goal” cried the young man,
he started to his feet
As he uttered this exclamation a fein
wail echoad 1t behind him, snd Lazo
the alleged mother of Ella, stepped ous
upon the piszza and stood before them,
“Do you doubt my words?” Deabam |
asked the stricken lover, as he sat with |
his face buried mn his hands,
Hirst made no response,
“Because, if you do, here ia hes
mother to verify my statement,” the
planter continued. {
Hirst looked np and gazed at the)
woman in 8 dazed manner for a mo |
ment, thea hoarsely sskea her if it were
trae? !
“That I am Ela Denham’s mother?
Yes,” was the reply.
“And her father?” asked Hirst,
“hichard Denham,” replied the wo |
head, and the
§
man.
“And Ella was born-—when?" almost
whispered the anguished young mam
“In 1857, three years before the re.
bellion.” i
“Were you a slave then?”
“I was,” replied Lizzie, and at »
signal from Mr, Denham the quadroon |
glided into the house, i
*‘well, Mr. Hirst, when shall the
wedding be?’ asked the planter, in »
mocking tone, and he no longer strove
to conoesl the triumphant expression
that now lit up his whole race. i
“Sir; you insult mel” cried the young |
map, starting to his feet again, i
“Don't want to marry a slave, eh?’
“Mr. Denham,” was the indignant
response to this taunt, “I took you for
» gentleman, but I now see my mis |
e,
Denham flamed up at these words, |
and, striding up to the young man, he |
hissed these words in his face:
“The same mistake, perhaps, J made |
when 1 took vour father for one fifteen
ago. He was my neighbor, and
devilish means he enticed me to re.
sort to the gambli
rained me. He 4
tis ill-gotten
Es
When Denham arose to his feet he
wore an expression that boded no good
to the young man; he was about to fol
low after his assailant, whou a low voice
ered:
“Uncle, I want to speak to yon.”
“I wiil see you after I have chastised
that scoundrel,” was the hasty response,
and the next moment he disappeared,
Denbam did not return until a late
hour; whether he and Hirst had met
was not known; nor was it known what
transpired in the interview between the
planter and his mece,
It was prolonged until past mydnighi,
and, acccrding to the testimony of the
it was a stormy interview;
violent words were nsed by both, but
When all wgs quiet the aflrighted
servants retired. In the morning they
fonnd their master dead 1n bed—stabbed
mn the heart,
Ella Denham was awakened and ap.
prised of what had occured, and she at
once denounced l.ouis Hirst as the
murderer, She hastened tw inform the
authorities of the tragedy, stating that
her uncie and Hirst had had a serious
quarrel the previous evening, during
which the young man kuocked down
Mr, Denbam, and that in was her firm
belief that Hirst was the assassio,
lhe young man was jaken into ous.
tody at his hotel, just as he was on tha
sve of departure for his home in Phila-
deiphis. He expressed both surprise
and horror when he learned what had
sccurred, but smiled disdainfully when
told who was his aceuser,
Before a magistrate, the girl repeated
what she had witnessed, but did not
positively deciare that Hirst had killed
her upoie, but wus impressed with that
belief.
Hirst stoutly denied the killing, and
said he was willing to swear that after
he parted fromm Denbam, after their
quarrel, he went directly to his hotel
and retired.
That night he slept in a felon’s cell,
Next morning, Ella Denham was miss
ing, and the greatest consternation pre-
valled among the servaats, who sought
for ber everywhere in the vicinity with.
out success, She had disappesred and
left no trace behind her. Why she
went away snd whither she had gone
The eoroner’s jory found Louis Hirst
guilty of the murder, and the young
man was remanded for trial,
When the deceased's affairs were ex.
amined it was discovered that the plan-
tation really belonged to his exiled
This was attesied to by the
attorney who conveyed the estste, in
of Richard, hus brother, said estate to
become the exclusive property of Ella
Denham, dsughter and only child of
the exile, when she attained her major.
ity.
Where Richard had bidden himself
was known to few, il any, save, per-
haps, Mr. Barbour, the sitoroey.
conjectured, but it was presumed she
knew where her father was and had
probably joined mm. Bat the cause
of her abrupt departure was a mystery,
It it had not been for the mot that
she and her uncle lived on most amios-
ble terms, her hasty flight would oer-
tainly have looked suspicious and ine
clined the neighbors to think that she,
instead of Hurst, had committed the
murder,
At the trial that followed, Hirsl's
counsel had subj wosed Lizzie, the
quadroon, as a witness for the defense,
aud truly her evidence created a sensa-
tion in court.
It appeared that Mr. Mark Denham
had her in his power——tone resson she
would not give, however, Presuming
that he compeiled her to assume the
position of mother to the girl, Hirst
believed to be a slave, tainted with
African blood.
“I nursed Ela from early infaney,”
the witness said, *‘Her mother died
dizectly after her babe was born, avd
sho was & white woman, I was in the
parior and heard the whole conversa-
tion between Louw Hirst and Mark
Denham, 1 was instructed by the latter
to appear at a certain stage of the oon-
versation and proclaim that I was Ella's
mother, I did not know that the poor
girl was also a secret listener to the
foul slander Dinham uttered against
her until 1 feit my hand seized by her's
sank insensible at my feet,
“After I had played my part on the
piszza, I returned to my poor charge
I undeceived her and told her the truth,
This aroused her sager to a pitch of
and she swore sbe would
avenge the outrage,
“1 endeavored to appease her, and
pointed put fo her that no harm wes
dove, now that the eslumnistor had
been properly chastised by Hirst, who,
himself, would probably return to his
northern home, and po one would re.
peat the scurrilous story.”
“Properly punished!” cried the girl
in scornful tones, ‘do you eall being
simply knocked down proper punish
ment for so strocious & slander? You
shall seo what I deem a proper punish
ment for such & dasterd.”
“That night after Denham returned
from his search for Hirst, be and E in
had hot words about it, but their natare
1 did not learn, However,” continued
she, “wuen I found in the morning that
Devham had been killed during the
who insiantly disappeared in the crowd,
The letter was addressed fo himself,
written in a besntifui feminine hand,
He opened it, looked at the signature
and saw the name of E Ia Denbam,
Hastily thrusting the letter into his
pocket ho weout to tis hotel and tm the
privacy of his room he read its con
ienis, This is what he rena:
“Bir—tad you come directly to me
ater that loul slander was foisted upon
you by my uncle, and manifested sym-
pathy for me on sceount of that ‘acci-
lent of my birth," I wighi have for-
given yon even though you abandoned
me afterwards; that would, at least,
anve been acting a wmaniy part, Bat,
instead, yon be ieved the ‘coined lie,’
though uttered by an avowed enemy,
snd cowardly fled without seeing me or
wking for an explanation, If von have
iruly loved me you are now fitly pun-
ished since you have the assursneo
ihat Iam no ‘negro.’ Bat even were
we to meet hereaflter—wihich 18 not
likely —~1 shall never recognize you,
bear that in mind, I know you did not
kill my uncle, but to satisly my ont.
raged leelings I caused your arrest, I
3id not choose to have your blood upon
my soul, snd had you been coudemued
[ would have proclaimed myself as the
person who took the life of the miscre-
aut, who, to gratify a petty spite he had
against your father, would have imola-
led me on the altar of lus unholy re-
venge! Bat I sm amply revenged for
the foul wrong be would have put upon
te, and [ do pot regret the set, You
may make whatever useyou see fit of this
voluut ry confession; its promulgstion
cannot harm me, for 1 am lost to all
who knew me in Montgomery, and they
shall never see me again,”
With a saddened heart the young
man went home with that chasteuing
letter close to his heart, He kept her
secret, for he now doubly loved the
spirited girl who was lost to him for-
aver.
But the matter was not to remain a
secret in spite of his resolve to shield
the girl he loved, Lizzie called on the
mayor and made a voinatery statement
that Mark Denham fell by her hand,
On being closely questioned she en-
tered into the details of the murder in
80 concise a manner that not a doubt
arose as 10 her guilt,
She was arraigned and subsequently
committed for trial, and the affar was
widely published in the papers.
Boveral days before her inal was to
take plsce the suthorities received a
letter from Elia Denham, in which she
boldiy procisimed herself! ss the mur.
derer of her uncle, anid gave her res-
sons for committing he deed.
Desham had blasted her hopes of
happiness by eoining a cruel le,
whereby she was forever separsied from
the man she loved, and such a wrong
could only be condoned for with the
blood of the wretoh,
The trial of Lazsie took plsce, but it
was a farce, notwithstanding she vehe-
meutly declared that she, and not Ella,
bad killed | 'ombhan; that the girl meant
only to shield her from harm,
The girl bad said the same words in
her letters—namely, L sue confessed
the murder only to ahieid Ela, whom
she loved better than life, Bue wound
up in these words, which decided be
jury in their verdict:
“I bad a powerful motive for what 1
did. What motive had poor Lizz?
None whatever,”
It appeared that the woman's only
spprebension was that her sriing woald
be arrested and perbaps ban jed for the
arime, henes her coufession,
Eila never returned to her late home
and the property was disposed of by
the attorney, the proceeds of whioh
doubtless reached either Ela or ber
“sther,
An Old Drinking Cap.
A silver drinking cup which formerly
belonged to Frederick the Great has just
been sold at Berlin for two thousand
roubles. The cup was presented tc
Frederick by his troops, and be drank
out of it on his last battlefield. There
are inscriptions on it of the names and
dates of his great victories, and it is in
all respects a rare curiosity. The Ger-
man ambassador offered the late owner
five thousand ros bles for it some years
ago, but he then refused to sell it
New Telenhane Device,
A new device Liss been invented for
telephone stations, They are so con-
structed that a person wishing to use
them enters a box, and on depositing a
nickel in the fare Lox a clock indexes
his entrance and be 18 permitted to
otcupy the box five minutes. At the
expiration of that time he must leave
the box, or, if he remains, he must pay
a second fare. Should he decline pay.
ing the fare he is belted witliin and the
machine telephones the fact to the cen
tral office. Then he must remain until
released by a messenger from said offices,
These boxes are designed for cigar
shops, drug stores and such places ace
cossible to the public.
AIO
Whoever takes a little child into his
lors may bave a very roomy heart, but
that chia will 6D a all, 1 he children
that are in the world keep us from
growing old and cold; they cling to our
garments with their little hands and
impede our progress to action:
with their pleading eyes
ful pleture; but a hovel with a
face in it 18 robbed of ita desolation,
A
10,000 inhabitants, “saving lost mach of
its importes se a8 » commercial enfro-
pot by the opening of the Mexican Rail-
way from Vera Cruz to the City of
Mexico via Orizaba. Such another odd
old town can scarcely be imagined,
Grass grows rankly in ail its stony
streets, which straggie up and down
the deep hillsides, w.ading in and out
with labyrinthine erookedness, Its low
casas, clinging to the heights, are all
of solid stone -plainer without than
those of Vera Cruz, buat more hand-
somely decorated withing all appareutly
built centuries ago, aud nothing but
the sturdy vines that overgrow them
has held their crumbling walls so long
together, There is no squalid poverty
in Jalapa, no filthy alleys nor unc.
hovels.
ly whitewashed as its canopy of roses
will allow, and bordered with outside
“dadoes” of bine, pink or yellow, The
Hotel
but delightful rookery,
Moorish court filled with fountains,
fowls strut and pigeons coo all day in
the sleepy sunshine.
picture to beliold—his swarthy face half
bedecked with silver coins, and a dwg-
crimson sash, The tiled floor of my
apartment is, of course, carpetless; the
little iron bedstead is berufiled like a
Frenchwoman's; pitchers and waler-
jara are quaint enough to drive a collec
tor of ceramics crazy, and the wide un.
and rude per shutters of solid maho-
gany, which wood is here as cheap as
pine, made ltke the doors of a bam.
the stone window-ledges are wide
enough to admit several chairs; and in
this safe but slightly dim aleove 1 spend
most of the quiet days with book or
penas, Outside at this moment, 1 see
a lepero slesping peacefully in the sun-
shine—for in this enchanting
pave the main thoroughfare, is lazily
cutting grass for his donkey with a
machete somewhat longer than himself,
These macheles (enormous knives, much
resembling Roman swords) are worn by
all the natives bereabouts, and are the
universal implement for every purpose,
domestic or mechanic, peaceful or mur-
derous. You might search the sale
great State of Vera Cruz for a rake or
a hoe, and find wone, even among the
ranchers; but these huge knives are as
common as canes among the dudes of
New York, throughout Southern Mex.
fco, Yucatan and Central Amenca,
hough they are unknown in the North.
ern States, Doubtless, mn an earlier
day, they were essential for defense,
and for cutting paths through the tropic
wilds—und, among these unreasoning
people, a habit once formed descomds
from father to son forever.
In quiet Jalapa no sound of wiieels is
sver heard, and probably a carriige was
never seen here, for these sleep streels,
4s tiresome as pleturesque, were con-
structed long before such vehicles had
been thought of. The backs of mules
«nl Indians serve all purposes for which
carts are usually employed, and horse.
back riding is an unfaillag delight, for
some of the finest views in the world
are obtained from the surrounding bills,
The only drawback to unalloyed enjoy-
ment in these otherwise perfect days is
the frequency of chipi chips, as the
light drizzling showers are called: and
+ven these are blestings in disguise, for
hey keep vegetation perpetually at its
jnantity.” Of all the queer plazas,
junit market places and charmingly
rrotesque old churches it has been my
rood fortune to find, those of Jalapa
war off the palm. All the ancient stone
anctuaries have curtously shaped roofs,
vith towers and buttresses, having been
silt in days when churches served for
orts and places of refuge, as well as for
purposes of worship, Among other
iandmarks belonging toa half-forgotten
poch is the old monastery of San Fran.
cisco, built in 1555, looming up amid
bloom and beauty like a ghost of the
gloomier past. Its walls are apparently
bomb-proef, but that wing which was
formerly occupied by the Inquisition
was rent in twain by lightning not
many years ago, and the ghastly wound
remains asa sign from heaven that such
wills shall be practiced no more,
The Franciscan Convent, built by the
conquerors for the benefit of the early
Jalapans, is now eounverted into a col.
moldering stairs that wind up its lofty
steeple it is well worth the trouble of
chmbing them fur the sake of the match.
less view to Le gained from the summit.
Che courtyard of the convent is Spun
massive
E
11
i
i
ih i
Ee tinehe— GHANPIED
plugged colin taken In at the stations,
aud refused at the banks, as well as the
| foreign com. He also buys up the
{ mutilated silver, nickels and coppers
I that are dropped by absent-minded
| pascengers into the gate boxes. There
| are many persons who, on getting thelr
| change with a ticket at the window of
| the ticket office, will carefully put the
| ticket in their pockets, and will drop
| their change in the toll-coilector’s box.
{ Some ladies drop their pocketbooks in,
while they hold their ticket with great
‘ care, Inside of each box there is a
| eylinder full of teeth, and when a plece
i of coin gets into the receptacle below,
{it has two holes in it or is chipped at
| the edges, Every day the mass of
| mutilated tickets is overhauled in the
main oflice before being sent into the
{ waste, snd there coins are sifted out,
From $5 to £50 a day bave been picked
out in The money 18 Bo
mutilated that it cannot be passed, and
it 18 sold to the old colin man for about
70 cents on the dollar.
this way,
T.is curious speculator sometimes
! carties away $000 or $700 worth of such
He calls himself a **money dress-
| er,” a business which he insists is just
legitimate as that of a ‘‘coffee
| polisher,” or a dry goods dresser, He
| beats out the twisted and bruised coin,
| cleans the soiled copper, brighteas the
foreign coin, and goes on his tour to
dispose of his goods. The foreign
money is sold to the stewards of foreign
vessels, and the poor American coin is
{ worked off at the cattie vards and sent
put West, Much of it finds its way into
the hands of the cowboys, who spend it
as freely as though it was fresh from
the Mint, The “money dresser”
searches his purchases very carefully,
and occasionally finds an old coin that
pays him severud hundred per cent,
profit when resold to collectors of rare
0oing,
“Do you make a living in this way?’
“Indeed I do, and 8 very nice Living,
OO
coin,
HE
A PRAIRIE ON FIRE.
A Thrilling Experience of a Cleveland
Hunter on the Texas Plains.
A praimne on fire 1s a sight seldom seen
oy people at the present time, Mr. B. P.
Gardner of the County Auditor's office,
tells of a thrilling experience he had not
ong ago while hunting on the plains
of Texas,
“ We left the railroad and journeyed
into the interior of the great State on
gid Mr. Gardner, “with
the tall waving grass on every side as far
We saw evid-
from time to
made up our
minds that we would see none
of the flery element itself. One
Bunday we stopped for the day at a
point about 500 miles from any railroad.
We proceeded to make ourselves come
fortable for the day, for we were very
tired and we intended to take a good
After breakfast we stretched om
with the
horseback.”
as the eve could reach,
of small; fires
but
mee
time, we had
rest,
selves out on our blankets,
ponies tied a short distance away, and
All
at once we heard a terrible noise like
distant thunder, up
saw a sight we stiall never forget. Th
were taking it as easy as we could,
and jumping we
prairie was fire
as far as we could see the flames shot
Wl
deafening roar.
and the
us with the
the air with a
was lowing
up in
The wind
fire
Was Coming owarus
swiftness of a railroad. Looking in the
opposite direction from there
! was nothing to be seen but grass, grass,
grass, There was no way of escape.
| The roar of the fire became louder and
i Jonder every minute, Birds went scream-
| ing by, terrified by the sight and sound,
and almost every kind of game a person
could think of went pell mell past us
gereaming, booting, barking and screech.
ing, caring for nothing but to get ont of
the way of the fire, which was chasing
them at a rapid rate, although it Was
; many miles away. Our old guide, who
| had been around the prairies all his life,
was frightened, much to my surprise,
| He cast his eye upon the fire and then
| away upon the waving sea of grass be-
yond, and seid we must mount our
ponies quickly and ride away before the
fire as fast as we could. There was a
trail about ten miles away, he said, and
when we reached that we would be all
| right. We mounted our ponies, but I
| knew well enough we could not go five
| miles before the fire would catch us.
| The roaring Increased and it began to
get warm, Birds and animals rushed
| by us more frantic than ever. An idea
struck me. Jumping from my pony I
rushed out into the tall grass several
hundred feet and started a fire. It went
with a whirl and in a minute a space of
three or four hundred acres had been
burned. We worked with a will and
soon had our ponies and effects in the
middle of the bare spot. It was none too
soon, for looking in the direction of the
fire 1 saw it part at the point where we
before, and
the fire
i
i
at
wh
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
St ———
Little troubles are the most deadly.
The right kind of sugar never sours,
Love is always willing to be crucided,
Troubles always look big ata dis
tance,
Our power lies in the strength of our
intuitions,
Be'ore you can do much good, you
must be good,
Don’t do anything that will wound
your conscience
Kind words never die; unkind words
don’t die either,
Many a man signs his death
rant with his teeth.
In nothing else
chunge as in man,
There i8 no such word as light in the
bi nd man’s dictionary.
When the world can't understand &
man it calls him a crank,
Mot men take life as they find it,
doctors in particular,
It is vanity to wish to live long, and
{0 be careless to live well,
It is strange, but the dregs of a pot
of *‘red palut’’ are always blue,
Doing a wrong thing with a good
motive does not make it right,
One blind man can easlly prove to an-
other that there is no sun.
Love is tie only thing that can light
en burdens by adding to them,
Probably troubles never come singly
beecaure misery loves compacy.
How we do alimire the wisdom of
those who come to us to ask tor advice
When you want to see the crooked
made straight, look at a railroad map,
Every man eats, but it is only here
and thee that you find ope who thinks,
Suffering is always a consecration.
It brightens and punifes,
It is always our own feeling that #2
luminates the objects around us.
Find a man who grows a little, and
you will find one wio works little,
The highest and most profitable les-
son is the true knowledge of ourselves,
Asa rule the less folly a man is cursed
with the more he dreads hisown foolish-
Less,
No ope is useless In this world who
lightens the burdens of it for any one
oise,
Woman possesses in good, as well as
evil, an energy wich surpasses that of
Loan,
If you wan! to find the most misers-
ble mau in the world find the most sl-
tish ove,
Knowledge is power, but it takes
something more than bead work to ture
& grindstone.
How much easier 1t is to be pleasant
to people of consequence than to those
who are no account,
There is something lovable in all
people, if we could but stand whers we
could see It.
The man who can learn from the
ex erience of other people isan apt
scholar.
It isn’t safe to judge a man by the
clothes he wears—they may belong to
his room mate.
Now it is my nature to acoept every
offer that means a wider outlook from &
Ligler point of observation,
~~ He who does right from prineliple is
jut pinety-four per cert. nlead of him
who does right from interest,
A man pever finds out how little he
knows until his ebildren begin to ask
him questions,
Some persons have the luck of per-
ceiving stupidities only after having
committed them.
if we ouly Xuew what our enemies
have suffered ic would not be hard for
us 10 be forgiving.
Every sorrow bas its limits, and the
most violent ontburdls exhaust most
quickly the fountain of pain,
We are never in earnest about any
thing that we cannot occasionally get
enthusiastic over,
It is well enough for charity to begin
at home, but it shouldn't stop there, It
ought to be a gieat traveler.
There are two kinds of people in the
world, Those who have found that
they are fools, and those who have ‘6
Fear makes man a slave to «thers
This 1s the tyrant’s chain, Anxiety is
a form of cowardice, smbittering life.
First there occurreth to the mind a
sinuple evil thought; then a me
aginat on; afterward delight; and Jastly
consent.
How easy it is to feel generous when
you get a chance to tell other people
what they ought to do with their mooey,
A good 1 of the trouble in this life
comes because men ‘ake too much time
» make money, and too liitle to enjoy
The love of approbation, the desire
to please, to be adm red, fo be Joved, Is in
some way the cau-e of all heroic, self.
denying and sublime sctions.
A cynic has written:
The hearts ~f mast men are like the
prams In no, Where. the smile of
an woman
” AY Jat enough to set It in
Livirg only to get riches genera
turns out like the bo’ who got the ed
161% nest, Just as he thought he had
it be found out that it bad him.
IT Is a common remark for a
war.
can there be such &
man
0
It is the bubbling stream which flows
BOO Se ice that
Taber Tn ho swollen flood or