My Blind Canary. Sweet singer to my it roams, Hytblinil canary i Igwelt upon the liquid note Pat flll* thy little breast and throat, And cornea forth piping, hill and airy, Reaching tar and tar away, To some dreamy, twilight- day, Whose virgin star with softness beams On tniry doll and (airy. When night knoel* down before the west In silent prayer, That, lill the morn unveil* her eye, In tranquil sleep the world shall lie, And orf and king like blessings share; Tin then thy voice in music full* Along tny heart's deserted hall*. Whoso mold'ring rafter* And Umir guest Too sweet U> t*onr Who made thy nong so all divine. My blind canary ? Who taught thy little tongue to *ing T Who gave thy voieo a luavenly ring ? How learned thee thus to sweetly vary The long vibration* ol thy muse. And o'er high angel* to diffuse A lay too flue for hearts liko mine. So ml and weary ? What dark-wing'd lute cloe-eale>i lliino eyes, My soul'* enchanter? A Into, may be, of high decree Hdaincil this world thou ehould'st not sec Or that our lite'* a cheat and banter. The heart's deep wrong, the maiden's loar; The pain, thestrilo, suspense and liar; Our woes to know thou art 100 wise. Sweet heaven hannter. Oost sing the joys of warmer elifnos. My little stranger? Thoxo changeless green Canary isle*, Where ever long the summer smiles I >n tanuirin and forest ranger ? On those green islee, lopt by the sea, FVirennial blooms thy parent tree, Far from man's sins, far from his crime*, And far from danger. How came thee from thy snnny isles, In cold to wander ? As poets Irom the heavens are flung Poor mortals of this earth among, For bread to sing, end starve, and pander Thou minstrel of the stately palms, In frosty climes now sing for alms, Where man beguiles with hcarUoos wiles, Deceit and slander. The yucca and the citron tree Thou knowest no inure. ITie gi lavas sweet and mangostecn Will never more by thee he seen, Thy treble note no more will pom O'er mango, palm and asphodel, And pomegranate, and aureate 1**11; No more, my bird, thy vision's free To see thy native shore. There is a more of brighter beams Thine eyes beneath. Than ever shone to mortal view. Or fancy's painting ever drew. Thy downy form is but the sheath . And music, flashing on its throne Of paradise and diamond zone. Thy world illumes, and incense teems On thy laurel w nath. Wheu low the plumes of awful death In dusk descends Cpon the couch where lite is run, And cold oblivion's night begun, Kre yet the soul its easement rends, The lights of heaven |>as in review, And waning hopes their pulse renew: Such lease myself. Jenny wears ribbons an blue as her own eyes, and I am sure you cannot say they are not pretty. You are just stubborn, Meg." l'oot Matt! In his uneducated, mas culine blindness he could not see that the delicate color that harmonized so wdl with his pretty cousin's pink and white checks and sunny curls was utterly unsuited to his brown Meg, wholesaled rich dark hues and warm rials to brighten her somewhat swarthy com plexion And |" >r Meg! She hail an instinctive sense of in,less that taught her this, but she was not wise enough to know how to explain it to her somewhat imperious lover. She could not say she " hated him!" Besides, Meg had carried a sore spot in her heart for two months; ever since this same cousin Jenny of Mali's came on a visit to Bysdyk. She was a dimpled, delicate little creature from the south—from near Ixindon, in fact — where, as Meg w'as very certain, every thing was nicer and liner than in isinca shire. Jenny had sweet little coaxing ways with her, and she was always pur ring around her cousin Matt like • kit ten; and—and she wore blue riblxgis! Meg would none of them. She sat for a moment as if turned to stone. Then she blazed out: "'JennyP Jeuyf I am tir i of •Jenny!' Site has turned your head with her flirting ways lik* a butterfly, and her yellow hair and I, r finery, (live your blue ribbon to her, and tafc< her to the fair—for I'll not wear it." '• At.d you'Jl not go to the t r, eitlo r?" said Matt, in tones of suppros- ,1 passion " Is that what you mean?" " I'll not go with you," she answered, growing cool herself as she grew angry. "Yet it's likely enough that I may go. Theri'arc plenty of lads who would be glad to take me with no ribbons at all." With a strong effort the young man nut the curb upon bis tongue, but bis lace darkened. " You will go with me or no one, Meg," he said. "This is all nonsense—and we to be married next Michaelmas? But come," and In* put out his hand to raise le*r from the stone; " it grows dark." Meg, still angry but willing to Ik* pacified if she must, allowed him to assist her, and stood beside her stalw rt lover with burning cheeks and down east eyes. She rather liked, on the whole, his tacit refusal to defend him self and his master fill way of bj'ing In r it was "all nonsense." But just at this moment, as ill-luck would have it, a small brown-paper parrel dropped from the folds of her shawl. Matt stoop*d to pick it up. It burst open and a yard or two of scarlet ribbon rippled over his fingers. Now our poor Meg, not to be outdone by the fair Jenny, hail bought this ril>- bon herself that very evening, meaning to wear it to the fair next week. But it so happened that when Matt went to Mother Marley's shop to buy his own blue love-token in*had found l>an Willis there—the only man in Bysdyk whose rlvalship he had ever feared. And Pan was buying a ribbon precisely like this. Mother Mariey had wrapj**d it in this very piece of paper, Mait was sure, and he had seen Pan put ft in his pocket and walk off with it. And now, here it was! His gift was spumed, then, and his rival's accepted; and all Meg's talk nlxiut Jenny was a m* o* subterfuge—an excuse for a quar rcl Yet if she would not wear his love token she certainly should not wear Dan's. He hardly meant to do it; he was sorry the next minute. But what he did, as the tide of passion swept him off his feet for an instant, was to wind the two ribbons into a knot and throw them vehemently into the *<•. "There!" he cried, " that's settled once for all." " And something else is settled to. Matt Erickson." retorted Meg, in a white heat. " There'll he no marriage for u next Michaelmas, no marriage (lienor ever! You would strike me some day. for nught I know, if I should choose to wear a red knot rather than abiue. I'll \ not run tkc/iik. I'll have nothing more to ay to you while the stars shine." and darting round the cliff, she was half way down to thehearhlsifore hoover thought of stopping her. The next day Erickson, magnani mous. great-hearted fellow that he was, after all, having gotten over Ids quarrel from Meg's stanilpolnt, it oceurrod to hiin that he might nave drawn uncalled for inference*. Pan Willis might have a dozen sweethearts who all liked red ribbon* for augbt he knew. And how like a fool ho had behaved, losing his temper like a hot-headed boy and throw ing Meg's poor little trinkets over the eliff No wonder she wns afraid to trust him. More than one husband in Bysdyk was in the Imbit of beating hi* wife 00 as slight provocation as tie- hue of a ribbon ; and it was not strange that a high-spirited girl like Meg should de cline to run the risk after she had MM seen him In a fury. As for Jenny, she hail came in be tween him and Meg. He could see it now. But she was going home the day after the fair, and he would see Meg that very night and tell her so. For he did not dream that all was indeed over l>e tween them. He could hardly wait for the hour to leave the mine. He changed his soiled clothes, ate his supper hurriedly, and was soon on Ids way to Meg, stopping as he went to buy another ribbon—red this time, and broader and richer and handsomer than the one he hail robbed her of. Then lie went on through the crooked, m-attered little village tillhe reached the Widow Ncale's cottage, just on the out skirts. To his surprise he found the door locked and the shutters closed. As he stood in his perplexity, a white-haired urchin who was turning nbmersaults near by shouted; " Ho, you. Matt Erick s n! it's no good to wait ther; the widow and Meg have gone away." "(lone? Where?" "Don't know. To France, like enough —or to Atneriky —or to Lon don —or somewhere*. Dhey took a big box and a bundle, and they don't know hut they'll at iy forever'n ever. Meg said so," and, making a rotating wheel of himself, tlie Iml vanished round the corn or. Just then the door of the nearest cot tage Opened and a woman's lace looked out. It was growing dark. "Is it you, Ei ickson! There's no one at home in tlie house there. Hut I have something here that I was to give you when you eame this way." His face was stem nnd set and white in the fading light as he took tlx* little packet fr*i:n the woman's hand. " Where h; vo they gone?" wus all lie said. "I don't just know. To visit some of their kinfolk a great way off," tlx* widow said. "Oil, hut she's a elose mouthed one, six' is—an*l Meg's a hit like her. They're not gossipy folk. You never get much out of them," she added, with an injured air. As soon as he was out of sight Matthew Eriekson opened the packet, lb* knew what was in it before he un tied the knot—a string of curiously carved beads witli a strange, foreign, spicy odor, that lie had bought or a wandering sailor and fastened around Meg's neck one happy night, and two or three other trilbs no had given h**r. And In* found this note slowlv and pain fully written, badly Snellen, perhaps, anil not punctuated at all. Hut what of that? Tlx* meaning was plain enough *, all too plain. Matt thought, as lx* drew It is hand across his eyes as if to clear his vision: " I gave you ha* k vour troth last night. 11 ere are the heads, and the silver piece, and tlx* heron feathers. Now all la over between us." H* r<* six* had evidently hesitated a moment, won dering if her words were strong enough; for, on the line* below she hod written, us with an echo front the prayer-book reverberating in lx*r ears: "Forever and forever, ntixn. Mar garet Ne.alc," Not Meg, hi M**g, his proud, hi_*h spiritedsweetlx*art--hut Margaret Ncale! It set lu r at such an immeasurable dis tarn i' from him. " All is ov**r b* tw*en us." As if were dead and buried oat of hi** sight. Ami lx* had spoken to.Jain**s Hay alsiut the snug cottage beyon*l tlx* hav: and they were to have been man led at Mielnu'lmiui! He knew enough of tlx* Widow N**al**'s habits to oak no more questions of the neighbors. As on** of tlx in had said, six* was olose-moutlx-d. H** kn* w she ha*l a sister living in Scotland, f**r whom M* g was named ; but when.* *r*n he did not know. Si'otlnnd tt*as lik*- a distant for eign land to the people in ltysdyk. Hut the widow )ia*l tnon**y **n*>ugli t* go to Scotland .r farther if six* wished, oven on short notice. She had never work* *1 in tlx* mines, neither had M**g Six* ha*l a eeimfortahle annuity, left Iwrhyher old mistr' -s; for she ha*l >* rven to please her lover, **v**n 1 if she did not like it> As for Jenny—but, what nonsense was that' She would have 1m . a ashamed of Matt if lx* had not ! *n I kind to lx*r. To be sure, in* iia*l Isrn cross nnd hid thrown awn her ribbon. But then lie was a man. nnd men w**re strong and masterful and could n*t bear contradic tion. nnd she had angered him by h* r foolish p rsistein *. Ah! If six* could hut und** It all. and have her tall, bmv**, handsome lover back agnin! Six* would have tu. Ned r'*un*l and rem' lw* k to Kysdyk tlx* scry next day if she could have had her say. Hut a journey was a journey to people of their rank and condition, nnd h* r inotlier, who had tak* n it to ph**'* h**r, and somewhat against lx*r own will, s s not to lx* blown about !ik* *i f**atli I hj lx r SO** prices. Hut why, d< you ask. did not M**g write to IxT lover, if six felt six* had Is'en in tin* wrong? And why did no wiser ones than she nlwax • do the best tiling, the right thing? lb sides, site wa* a woman, and a proud on* After hav ing di*. n**ded Iter lover *!• * would not foi tliwitli fall at his feet ami ask him to marry IXT. But, nil! she (bought A* tlie long, slow days s* ore on, if *becould but look upon Ids face onc more, he would know all without the telling. Once in a while, as the y< irs went on. at rare intervals news of hint caiue ho* k to ltysdyk. He was well; he hixl fair wages, though gold was not to lie hail for tlx* gathering in America any more than in England; lia had b***n promoted and hod charge of a gang of m* n. At length there was a long interval of silence. Then eame ffonting niuiois of ill; and then afti*r a while a l*'tt**r in a strange hnndwriting. a letter to hi* un**le, who hail died three weeks ltefore it eame. There hail been a had accident in the mines—an explosion; and in the effort to save other*. Matthew Eri' kson hnd him self receiveil dangerous injuries. No one thought he cob id live. But now. after months, he was slowly recovering. If re covery It could lie called—for lie was blind. Tise poisonous vapor had de stroyed iiis sight. It was five years since lie went away— five years that had brought many change* to Meg, It was a sobered, thoughtful woman, not a hot tempered girl, who knelt by tlie Widow Neale's side a week after tlie letter eame, and said: " Mother, have I been a good faithful child to you these many years?" Her mother looked at her womh ringlv. Two quiet women living alonu, tlicy were not In tlie habit of being over demonstra tive. "A good child? Why do you ask that, M**g? There's tmt abetter in all Isuieasbiret" " Have I ever vexed you or given you sorrow ? Tell me, mother." " No," said tin! Widow Neale slowly "only—it vexes mi- that you will not marry ; an old maid's no good, and you know that two of tin* heat men in Ilys dyk worship tin* v< ry ground you tread on this day. 1 call no nam*** and I nay nothing. A woman must answer for herself. 1 wish you were married, Meg. I've saved up a good penny for your dowry; v<>u know that. • " Yes," she said, her lips quivering. "Whatever was the reason you did not have Matt Eriekson?" her mother went on querulously. "You'd been a proud wife now, and lie here hale and hearty." Willi a quick gasp Meg threw Up both artUH, and then buried her face in her mother's lap, sobbing vehemently, while the latter sot aghast, frightened at the storm she had unwittingly raised. At last she touched her daughter's hair Softly. " Don't, Meg," she said, " I tnean It 1" Hut Meg on I v drew the wring!* d hands alrout In r neck, and let her tears flow uneheeked. At length she looked up. " It was I who drove him away—Matt j Eriekson," she said. "We Inula little quarrel, just a few idle words about a ribbon, and I told him in my silly anger I would have no more to say to him while the stars shone. And now they ■ln not shine for him, for In* is blind— blind. Oh, mother, I cannot live, I cannot Ixsir it!" "Yin, you will live, child," the widow 'answered, quickly. "Your father was brought in to me dead—killed in those mines wher. you were searee three years <*ld. my Meg, and I ion alive yet." " Hut this is worn* than death," she cried, passionately. "Mother, do y**u hear? He who was my p!ighl*l me go, motlu'r!" "It is not your place, Meg. I/ t som* on** "IM* go." " Who? Tell m' that' Has lie fatter or brother or uncle? Who U then* to go?" "Hut—lt's not right ma nlv to oil afer a lover, M**g. What v,, lie folks say? And—would y*>u marry a hlin*l tnan ?" " Maiilenly! It is maidenly to do right," slid Meg, her brown cheek flu-h -ing. "What do I ear** for tlie folk*-' I'm not a young girl to drop my cy* < nnd •)*■ sham* c,| liceauv folks w ill talk. Th'*y always talk. And as for marrying —it is not of marriage I am thinking now; it is of bringing Matt Eriekson— In* whom I drove away with my ill dciirigs—back safe to his own **ountry—" She hesitated a moment and then w*nl *>n: "Hut I'll not play f;'.<- withyou, mother. He'll not a.-k m** to marry him. Hut I -hall know. If he want* me. after all that's pasxd, lie shall have me. and I'll Lakeenr* of him till I di**." Tin ir talk lasted far into the night. Hut with it we have n*> more to do. nor the details by which a little money was made to gr a great way. For, after many tear-, til** widow eon- ntM that .M< g should t ik* lu r dowry and spend it a- sic ehse. If tli**y hod b* n more worldly-wise they would have known liow tone* oniplish their purposs tliroiigh ill** agency of others. A it was. tiny saw no other way than for M* g to do h< rseif T !>•■ thing Ml<* want* *! dau. oli.that weary,w*-ary Journey! Why w is the world so wide, tlx* way so long' M**g h* pi up a bras• be.art imntil tlx* lxiist*T*>us ocean was crossed an*l she had made h*T way as fur as Ituffalo, where she hn*l b* en told to take the st< ,am* r f**r Marquette. It d enied L*> lur that she had trnveled the width ol the whole wile earth already -inia h**r fiMil first fell upon tin soil of til** strange new worid. "Is tliis l/k* ■superior. *ir?" she asked of a po.i* < i *n. as el." 1* ft the < urs nn*l saw t! • water of Ioko Eric stretching away in tlx* distan*e. " An*l ean v*u tell me. a: we near Ishpem ing?" " Dli, no, my giil; this is Krie, Lake' Sup* ri**r is away up north, hundreds of mii**s from here — Ishp'-ming. Never heard of u**h n place. Hut here's your Meaner, if you'r* iroing up that wav." li*-r heart sank lik*' lead. Would six* ever, ever reach the end? Ail day, nnd, •lay after day. she sat silently in tie how of the hnt. gazing steadily forward! It Was Ilk" n n**w hirtll when, after inany days, th*- steamer * 1 the beautiful Itayof Marquette, olid * x fair young i lly me ltcfore h**r wtoni bed | eyes, its white cliffs gleaming in th* un. it < tt -hor - sweeping downward to th** w.i*' r's (d|*. She was n** 1* i ;;oal j at ! a For Istipcming was about fit **cn miles j .away up the railroad, and tbitli r she weni ly the lin-l train How roui;h an*l wil*i it all wa*l And how the < .arred ; and til i k< n* *1 pine tr s tower. *1 aloft like grim giants, ami point <1 their j ghastly ling* r. at h* r a* she swept through their aoiitude' " Can you t*il in** lore t*. ffnd ■* nan 1 called Matthew Eriekson ?" she >). d of the depot-master, trembling from head to foot. " Eriekson 1 Kriel. - >n? Hlown un j in the min**s a year or so n*n, *** nt ' he? He stays at Snni AynV. tie Kn- j glisliman's, 1 beli* IP. .fusty** go ar* und that corner, nia'atn. itien turn to the j right nnd go up the hill—or stay! I>*t; me lock up nml I'll go with you. Ever , b'S'ti in Islqw ming l.rfor ? X*? I thought you look's! like a stran;;* r in then port*." Il<* Jolt her at Sam Ayres' gate, having opened it gallantly when lie saw that her cold lingers were unfit to do her bidding. A kindly-f iced wmnan came to tin* door and bade lu*r w**leoine. MegV story was soon told. " And you have come all this long way to take Eriekson home again?" her eyes filling. " God bless you, dear, for I'm sure He sent you. We've done the best we could for him, hut j*>u are his sister P" " No, I'm a friend—a neighbor. There was no one else," she said, simply. " What's your name? I'll tell him." "No matter about my narue; say a friend from the old country." The woman came back presently. " Be careful," she said, " lie's weak yet. Hut I want to tell you something just to keep your heart up. for he looks like a ghost. There was a great doctor from New York up here fast week to look at Ills poor eyes, ami lie told Sam there was a chance for him yet—just one chance in a hundred." " Does lie know it?" asked Meg, tremuiouaiy, her color coming and go ing. She was but a woman, after all. Only blindness would have brought her there. "No, and you must not toll hitu. The doctor said so most particularly. Will you go up now?" Ho had been sitting in the sun by the' window all day brooding. They had jieen very kind to him. these people, hut kindness wears itself out after awhile. What was to become of him? The wages he had laid up were wasting away. The early northern wint*T would soon set in. He shivered tie he thought or the ll* roe winds, the pitiless, drifting snows. Tlier was nothing a blind man could do h* If he won- only at home in Kyre I*! Would Meg be sorry for him, h* wondered, if she knew how de- it*, he was, how lonely in this strange land? If he were at home It* could learn to weave baskets like old Timothy. Here lie was just a dead weight. "Borne one to see him from the old country?' He turned his sightless eyes toward the door when M* g was entering no!so less as a spirit, and Ids foe** kindled eagerly. Noiselessly she closed the door Ixhirnl h* r. ll** was so changed, so white an*l worn, that her own heart stopped its pulsations for a moment. She fear<'ilitny sudden shock might over come him. She dared not speak lest lie should know her voice. Stnuige that ill** had not thought of tliis before! He put out hishand vaguely, f* * ling tin* presence he could not s* <■. " V*iii are very welcome," he said. "Hut I do n<*t know who it is Who an- sou?" HD thought it was some kindly Eng lishman, who having heard of his mis. fortunes had come to stpcak a v, iof cheer and comfort. Sin- gave him her hand, still silently. A woman's hand ! Asw ift thrill shot through Ids frame and his face flushed. Holding horse 11 still with a nighty 'fr*>rt. Meg knelt ly hi- -ide, laying her hand upon his kn* **. His hand tnii* led i.* r hair, h* r lore, head, h* r lip**. She gave a low cry, trembling like a Imf. "Speak to me, quick," It* whispered, hoarsely. " Matt 1" "Oh, M* ;. my M**g!"— Sunday AfUr- TUX/'l. Escort* as a Branch of trade. Among tlie many new and peculiar aid - to material comfort in tli** metro polis. writ*** a New York < orr<-spond<*nt, no sing'*- one eontrihut* - nior* at a cheap er rate than tlx* li*-tri**t telegraph sys tem. It Includes, as you doubtless know, a messenger, police an*l lire mr vice, hut it also inelud* > an cs<*ort ser vice, wlii*h i* comparatively little known, which, as it is for tlie special us** and behoof **f unprotected women, ought t** b** widely un*l* rstood. Sup pose a lady * luuxe to stay ov* r night In town ami d* sir* to goto tlx* tlx at* r or opera, hut ha- no one to alt* n*l I ■r. Six* simply lea\ her address and f it the near'st district t**! .-r atili < * . *1 at tlx* proper time n w< .i-dr* -sed. well mannered man pres'nts him- I, and tak' s her to tlx* play-house, buying the tiok**t.s, paying * ar fares. far as ail pra thai aid is <*on cenxal. six* is just as well off as if h**r natural guardians w* re with lx*r. At ftr-t gbin**e it might h* supposed ther* W**ul*l be little need of any U* h ser vice; hut in a gr* at c ity lik** N* w* York Ui'Ti* or** liundn-ds and thousands of w**m who have n*> man Is longlng to them, and who must either stay at home or put themselves to tl annoyance of taxing tlx* good will of somebody upon whom they have no n-eognD'-d claim. Tin fact that this bran* h of tlx* district service is grow ing constantly and steadi ly si. .w's how great tlx* n* <4 of it here. Washington in Tears, Washington hod accepted an invita tion from Arnold to breakfast with him <•11 the very day the plot was di- ov. red, but was prevenb-d from k*-pin • his * n gag'inent by what men < ;ll chance—by the earnest nvjuest. namely, of an old officer,near who-** s.ition tin vpa -*-d. to s)>end tlx* night lh*r* and inspect some works in tlx* neigiilM>rli< <>* l. N* vt day while Washington, with his staff, in !"dir* Lafaytt* . were sealed at tab.* .1 * bis offi.-* r's quarters, a dispatch w- - brought to the American general, wnii hlx immediately opened and r-a*l; tlx n iaid it down without comment. No ab -a:'**n w:is visible in his count* nance, but lie remained perfectly silent. C*n versaUon droppnl among his -uib*: nn*l after some niinut* • the g* nera', lx- k<>n ing l. ifay* ;te to follow liim. pas*si t<* an inixr apartment, turnd to his young friend without utt "ring a syllable, iilac-d tl fatal dispatch in his hands, and then giving >y loan tin- ivcrnable bur.-t of fe**iing, fell on his ne k and soldx-d aloud. The eff** i producod on the young Fr*neli Marquis, accu-toni*d to n n.iid bi-g* n**ral (*ail*l and digniffesl in his usual manner) as devoid of the usual w**akn*- • of liuniinitv. iuy 1v im agincd. " I believe." said Ijtfayette, in rviaiing litis anecdote, "that this was tlx* only occasion throughout tlie long and sonirtimis hopeless struggle that Washington ever gave way, even for a moment, under a reverse of fortune; and. p* rhaps. I was the only human who ever witixwsed in iiiin an ex hibition of fcclin* *• loreiirn to Ids t* ni penunent. As it wn.*. lie reeiversj ie. r*re I had perusial the communication that had given rise to his emotion ; and when we returnen to his staff not a trace remained on his countenance cither of grief or despondency."—/.t/e/H-j *.7 i's Maymirw,. How Gen. Milelds was Gnred. Tlie late Gen. Shields, at the battle of C* n*o flonio, in Mexico, was severely wound *1 while lesding his men. hut lie refused to quit th*> Held. He advanced to the charge, when he was strut k in the chest by a copper graneshot that passed through his lungs, lie toll into t lie arms of Oglcsby, *t present United States Senator from Illinois, and was carried from tlio battlefield to all ap pearances lifeless. Obituary notices ap peared afterword in nearly all tin* pap* i s of the country, so convinced were the brother officer* of the impossibility of Ids surviving such a terrible wound. For weeks he lay at the brink of death in the neighborhood of the battlefield, and liis cure seems little short of a mir acle. The army surgeons had gl T en him over for death when a Mexican doctor said lie would live If he would let him remove the coagulated blood fn>.u the wound. Shields, as a kilt ur cure reme dy. told him to try, and a fine silk hand kerchief was worked In and finally drawn through the wound, removing the extravasnnt blood, when daylight could be seen through the hole, lie lived to lie a hale and hearty man, from disease or anv inconvenience from the wound, which was considered at thai 1 time mortal. TIMELY TOPICN. A thorough test of the power, r/tt and comparative advantage* of the electric light In to la- nutd" in the Capitol build ing at \\ asfaington, and three machini* for the purpose have already b(*n pur chased. It is also proposed to place a light at the Humrnit of the dome of nu< h power a- to illuminate a large portion of thecity. It i* staled that at Christiana and at Stockholm, Sweden, the polite arrest rmn who, in the street* and place* of pl'-aaure rinort*. indulge in the habit of Purming, addressing anil annoying wo men who freely circulate there. Such offi ndern are made to pay a fine of twen ty-live kroner (equal to about nix dol lar*) and their name, rinidencc and pro f --ion are published in all the journal* und>rthe hed of "Dinturber* of th I ewe of \t iiinen." It i* needle** to nay that the public .-harm* thu* incurred i* now vi ry much shunned by men, and many would willingly nay. if tin y were allowed, a large -uni of money to be per mitted to ••scape. ( urine, an Italian gymna*t, well-known from hi* f ate with a eharged wooden cannon, wan lifting it from it* stand, during a recent exhibition in Cervia, when it fell, mouth downward. The • gyinn.ut. with the rapidity of lightning, • ndeavored to break tiie Hun k so a* to prevent the weapon'* exploding. hut he wa* un*u'<•!•. ful; the eoneuasion fired the piece, and a* the charge could not emerge, the cannon hurst. Carlo* died almoat immediately TbeeowtermtkNi and horror among the spectators at thi* frightAl icRM wll e inteniw; only one of them v. .. woundid, liowe ,< r, although, tlie splinters of the cannon were driven als'tit in every direction. \ r- • '-i)t r< vi' v, ot Iturmi * troop* i* thu* d seritssl hv an < ye-witness : "The iiumlx r of in; n drawn up on th< parade ground was five thou and. including in fantry and < rivalry, in addition to which tlei- were eighty-live elephantH. Th infantry looked like &> many monkey*; for *i/s and soldi' r!y Is aring tle y are utt< rly eoiiti mptilo' . The cavalry were mounted upon thin and puny ponies. '1 le • ins ol th( elephant battery w< r<■ of no great< r bore than the common Eng li*h die k gun. The Jturmiwe were im mensely excited over thejr warlike din play hut it would Is-difficult to jmagin* nnyi.iing more ridiculous than such a .it to any one with the slightest ac •jUainlanc. with the armies of Europe ." President Eliot, of Harviird College, at the dinner of tie W i -.v!ni*ctt Med ea; Society of llnntoti, called the atten tion of tie- niemlx-r* of Uie aociety to cer tain peculiar di-ease* prevalent among tie student* of Harvard College. He had found thal.in tin senior class (if two hundred voting nun. forty-two suffer so sev( rely /rem di- :w< -of tucnose. throat and lung- that it is impossible, in the oj inion ofm( mbTs oftlu Masaa husctte Medical Society, tor them to go to pray er-: and a peculiar feature of the disease is that the -vine m-mbcr* of the society certify that it would tie dangerous for them to go to prayers for six months to come. Another "peculiarity i* that the di- a. • app*|( fitly ir. n axes tie e.nger the student Jatt- nils college, for while only ten per (