The Countersign. Alas ! the wear, hours |>ns slow, Tho night is very dark ntul still, And in the niai-slipi far below . I hear the bearded wiiip-poor -will; I scarce can see n yard ahead, My cant are HtrmiH'd t > catch each 800 ml;'* I hear the leaven about me shed, And the springs' bubbling through the ground. Along the beaten path I pace, TV hero white rays mark my BCII 1 ; xr?.?k> ; In formless shrubs I seem to trace The foeznan form with bending book. I think I saw him crouching low; I stop and list, I stoop and poor, I ntii the neighboring hillocks grow To groups of warriors far and near. IN ith ready pace I wait and watch, Cntil my eyes, familiar grown, 1 Vteot each harmless earthen notch, Aud turn gnerrilas stone; And then, among the lonely gloom, Beneath the weird old tulip tree.', My silent marches, I resumo. And think on other times than these. Hweet visions through the sitent night, Tho deep bay window fringed with vine; The room within in softened light, The tender milk-white hand in mine, The tender pressure and the pause That ofttimes overcame our sj>eech— -1 hat time when, by mysterious laws, We each felt all in all to each. And then that hitter, bitter day When catne the finnl hour to pnrt, When, clad in soldier's honest gray, I pressed her weeping to my heart; Too proud of me to bid me stay, Too fond of me to let me go, I had to tear myself away, Aud left her statued in h4 Woo. 80 rose the dream, so passed the night, When, distant in the darksome glen, Approaching up the nwful height, I heard the solid tnnrch of men. Till over stubble, over sward. And fit Ids where law the golden sheaf, I saw the lantern of the guard Advancing with the night relief. * "Halt! Who goes there?" my challenge cry. It rings along the watchful line. " Relief!" I hear a voice ropiy. "Advance, and give the countersign!" With bayonet at tho charge, I wait; The corjioral gives tho mystic spell; With arms at ;iort I charge my mate, And onward pass, and all is well. But in the tent that night, awake, I think, if in the fray I fall. Can I the mystic answer make Where the angelic sentries call ? And pray that Heaven may so ordain That when I near the camp divine, Whether in travail or in pain, I too may have the countersign. Fritz-Jams* THE SILENT PARTNER. "Yon have a sad and strange ex pression to-day, F.i 1 gar, which troubles me," said Clara ltenton, addressing her affianced lover. "In fact, you have not seemed like yourself, since the death of your father, four months j ago." The young man's only answer was a sigH the meaning of which, however, his fair companion understood, al though the subject had never been referred to between them. They had been engaged abont a year, and their wedding day, although not definitely decided upon, was looked upon as not far distant. In the meantime, how ever, Mr. Alison, Edgar's father, hail become seriously embarrassed in his business affairs; and matters had grown continually worse, until the climax was reachfsi, rendered still more severe, as well as unavoidable, by the general prevalence, at the time, of business failures. While still working with every nerve of brain and body, in one of those desperate struggles which so often end in either success or death, a fever, induced by the intense excitement, had terminated his life, leaving his affairs in almost hopeless confusion, while his wife's health was so shattered by the terrible shock that | she was reduced to the condition of a confirmed invalid. Edgar, who hail gradnated a year before, and was then at a law school, dropped his books and came home at once, what he could do in the way of saving something from the wreck of his father's estate. Clara Benton, his affianced, was an orphan, and possessed of a fortune amounting to about seventy thousand dollars, which was under the charge of a prudent and careful lawyer, her guardian, while she was not to be per mitted to have control of it until she would be twenty-three years of age. "Well, Clara," said Edgar, breaking m painful silence, "at our engagement, I supposed my fortune would be about equal to yours. Now, I scarcely dare to feel certain of being able to save anything. The only part of my father's , once large fortune which is in any measure available is his factory, still at work, earning a little money. It may possibly be saved from the wreck, but it will doubtless require some i years to bring out that result. There •re many large claims against the -estate ; and, working as I must single handed and alone, the out-look seems almost desperate." "Do not let these troubles make you despondent, Edgar," said Clara, affec tionately. "At the time of our engage nent we were expecting to be married within a year. Of course Ido not de sire to hasten that event In any way '•hat docs not seem to yon best. But my life is shut up in yours. If you were absolutely penniless, tt. would not make a shadow of difference with me. I I have enough for both of us." "I know that is what your generous v heart would suggest, my darling !" re plied her lower, with deep emotion. "But the prevailing sentiment of tills world is of a very different character. ; Already sly intimations have come to me to tho effect that the loss of my fortune would not be a very serious affair to me, since I have a rich wife in prospect, whieh I was shrewd enough to secure in time." "Let these ungenerous insinuations pass for nothing, Edgar," said Clara, with quiet dignity. "You know they have no power to touch my mind for an instant." "I have been thinking this matter over a great deal lately, Clara," said Edgar, pressing the little hand lie was holding. "And while 1 have not the remotest thought of ever disregarding my engagement, I believe it is better \ for us to wait a few years and let me j endeavor to repair my fortune, with- ! out anticipating any portion of yours. You are now only nineteen and I twenty-three ; we will lie young yet for some years. I will direct my energies j to this work. I will take hold of the j manufacturing business my father left, j adapt myself to it and make that the ' use of my life instead of the profession j to which I had been expecting to de vote it. I must be a business man, and I will try to be a useful and successful one." More conversation followed, which we have not space to detail here, dur-1 ing which, however, Clara questional 1 her lover with much interest in regard to the condition and character of the property he was endeavoring to save ; and they parted at last, tnore firmly bound, so far as related to their future hopes and expectations, than ever. It tiad been agreed that their marriage should not be deferred beyond Clara's twenty-third birthday, unless by her own desire, which he felt certain would not Is 1 entertained or expressed. She stood looking after her lover until he had passed from view, then wafted a kiss after him from the tips of her pretty fingers, and returning to her room opened her writing-desk and be gan to indite a letter, with an expres sion upon her bright face of mingled archness and resolution. Two days later, while Edgar ws seated in the private office at the Vic tory with a pile of liooks and papers l>efore him, which he was endeavoring to bring into some order, a visitor was announced, and the next moment he was clasping the hand of Mr. Blanch ard, an old and well-known friend of his father. After a few preliminary remarks, expressive of his deep regret at the sudden death of Mr. Alison, the visitor -aid : "I have tieen talking a little in re gard to your affairs, Edgar, with tie lawyers who have the management of your business not, of course, learning anything from them except w hat I felt certain you would be perfectly willing to have me know. They tell me that the business is by no means in a hope less condition. There is a considerable amount of real estate that can le saved, I understand, by paying off encum brances on it, and 1 ladicve yon also hold some two or three patents, sup. |ised to lie available and valuable in the manufacture of articles to which the factory is adapted, and for which, 1 with a little capital to tiring them out, ' there would probab'v IK; an extensive demand." "All that is so!" said the young man. who had l>een listening to his visitor with peculiar interest. "But. single handed, I am virtually powerless; and the wide prevalence of business failures has rendered it impossible for me to procure aid that I might otherwise have obtained." "I have no capital," continued Mr. Blanchard, "that it would be right for me to put in jeopardy. The most of my property is in real estate, on which, however, 1 could borrow, I suppose, for a term of years, and at a moderate interest, so much as you would be likely to need. The question simply is this, can I put the money thus borrowed i into this business in a perfectly safe I way?" The suggestion thus made was like a godsend to the struggling and em barrassed young man. and he at once applied himself to the task of making it available. The rasult was that with in a few days an arrangement was made, by whieh Mr. Blanchard Itecamc a silent partner in the business, with a half interest in everything. "What a noble old man Blanchard is!" said Edgar to himself, after the ar rangement hod Ken completed, and the first installment of ten thousand dollars, by which his affairs were I brought Into working order, had been • paid in. And with the view of supply ' ing the large and rapidly increasing 1 demand for those patented articles, further sums were added, until by the end of a year, the whole sum thus ad vanced had amounted to twenty thou sand dollars, and the business was mov ing on prosperously. Stimulated and sustained by the as sistance thus opportunely afforded, and devoting all his energies to swell the tide of returning fortune, Kdgar found the time passing swiftly. On several | occasions he reminded his partner that he was at liberty to draw out a few thousand dollars of his part of the pro ceeds of the business if he desired to do so; but Mr. Ulanehard always rc plied that he had no present need for | anything except what was necessary to pay the interest on the money he had I liurrowcd. When the day agreed upon for the wedding at length arrived there was no need for further delay. And as Kdgar j held in his own the liand of the fair girl who had just been made his bride, it was with the proud and happy con sciousness that he had vindicated his honor, and t lint no one could charge him with having seized the opportunity to save himself from pecuniary ruin by marrying an heiress. About a week after the return of the young couple from their w(siding tour as they were at tea <>ne evening, Clara said, looking up at the same time, with a bright and happy smile; "I had a call to-day, Kdgar, from your old friend and silent partner, and hereto a little document he left with me, which may perhaps interest you." Taking the paper, Kdgar read an as signment, for value received, conveying ' hto partner's half interest in the factory to his young wife. "This, my dear, is a very extraordi nary affair!" he said, as he laid down the paper and looked inquiringly at his vis-a-vis. "The purchase of Mr. Blan ehard's interest in the business must have taken a large part of your for tune." "Perhaps not quite so much as von imagine," replied Clara, gnvly. "What do you consider the value of the inter est he has now assigned to me?" "I know," said Kdgar, "that It was worth forty thousand dollars to him from the fact that he has been offered that sum for it within the last two months by a wealthy business man, who urged me to use my influence with him to part with it." "Ho would have had a falling out with me if he had done anything of that sort," said Clara, with an arch look. "With you?" repeated Kdgar, with an expression of such utter bewilder ment that his young wife could not refrain from a merry peal of laughter. "Pray till mo, my dear," he contin ued, "how much this assignment has cost you?" "Twenty thousand dollars, with a little more," was the reply. "1 loaned Mr. Itlan' hard that sum through my guardian." "And that was the money I received from him!" cxciaiinul Kdgar, while a light broke over his face. "I now see why he was willing to accept enough from the business to pay the interest . on the liorrowed money, Imt had no occasion to draw anything more. And now tell me the whole story my dear." "Well, Kdgar," said his young bride, turning her radiant face upon him. j "the conspiracy was simply this. Mr. Blanchnrd has been an old friend of our family as well as of yours, and has . always leen deeply interested in my welfare. On that day whon you so perversely refused to anticipate any of my fortune, and I made myself so in quisitive, as yon doubtless remember, in regard to the exact state of your business affairs, a bright thought came into my mind. As soon as you were gone I sent for Mr. Blanchnrd, and , after telling him the whole story. . requested hini to find some way by j which my money could aid you. The only way, he said, would lie to have j my money loaned to him through my guardian, and he would then, if the j securities eon Id le made satisfactory, invest it in the business. After look ing into the matter carefully,, he decided that an investment of ten thousand dollars in the way it was made, and afterward ten thousand | more, would lie entirely safe; as per fect in every way as the security he ! I had given me for the inomey, and for I the payment of which, to my estate, |he was making himself responsible, even in the event of his investment in your business proving unfortunate." "A noble an generous course on his part, certainly t" said Kdgar, warmly. "But had you any security thnt woukl have boon binding on hto heirs in the event of his death T' "Yea; although, of course, i had determined that any possible lorn that might result from the investment should he mine, not his. I bad his written obligation to teuufer hto whole interest in the businei* to me on the cancellation of the mortgage; he, at the same time, leaving it entirely 1 to me to give him whatever 1 thought 1 1 lest for his services. Ho was not disposed to tak anything, saying that he would rather think of what lie hud done as being prompted by a regard lor our mutual welfare, ami without anA hope of inward. But I thrust a thousand dollar check into his hand, , and placed a ring on his linger, which he will wear, I am sure, as long as he ! lives. Ad now, my dear," she added, with a gay laugh, "after this display of j my conversational powers you will no longer regard me as a silent partner." "Perhaps not," said Kdgar, rising from his seat, and bending over Clara's ; chair, while at the same time he took tier face between his hands and im- I printed a fond kiss ujsin the upturned lips. "But a most acceptable one in either respeet, sinee 1 shall have her for life. And how can I thank you, ! my darling, for having so nicely and generously given me the benefit of a part of the fortune I was not willing to share, until 1 could bring to it, as I can now, a full equivalent; while, at the same time, I have the delightful realization that your act of kindness has not only been the means of ensur ing my fortune, hut has largely addod to your own." A Man Without Fear. "Bravery!" an old British officer of marines said lately, when talking over the newspaper rejsirts of the daring of some of our soldiers in Egypt; "very "flen bravery only means Satan getting into you, for the time. You lose your head—and your fears. Now, the bravest man I ever knew was a con verted thief. He had smuggled him self into the marines somehow, without letting it he known that he was a tieket-of-leave man. My lieutenant had once to take my men on shore to garrison temporarily a small fort near (iirgenti, near Sicily; among them was the ex-thief. Hardly were our men landed and in command of the guns than two of the enemy's ships hove in sight, and soon they were- launching a landing party under cover of the ship's guns. We were but a handful and no match for the Ixiatfuls attacking us. Our fire was kept up steadily, but so was the fire frmn the ships. The men in the forts were dropping fast. The thief had a leg sruasheil. At last—l am forced to confess it—the two or three marines who still had whole "kins took to their heels into the scrub wood behind. Poor chaps, there was some excuse. Certain death was crawling up the hill upon them in that landing party, which neared the ram part with rounds of cheers. *ShaiAe T eri'd the thief after his running com rades ; and up he got, loaded a gun, and find it right in the enemy's face, jud two seconds before a sword thrust put him forever out of pain from his broken leg. The man had always been a sneaking fellow on board, and we were surprised enough at the heroism of his end. When his loss was reported home, it came out through some relative, that he was a convict. Poor w■ retch 1 he made a plucky ending, a 1 any rate I" West India Superstitions, It is considered vers - unlucky to tell the name of a boat before it is launched. A calabash turned upside down in a Itoat is a sure fore-runner of ill-luck, either in weather or fishing. The oil ' obtained from a shark's liver rubbed lover the skin is a protection against the attack of a shark. Fish brought ' into a place where arrowroot or other starch to U>ing prepared prevents a separation of the star- h sediment from the impurities suspended In the water used. To turn your boots upside down brings loss of money, and to open an umbrella In a house prevents your ever marrying. Never wash your hands In water which another person has used, unless you first make the sign of the ; cross over it. When a glass cracks suddenly in a house it foretells a death, and a horse stopping before a house and neighing is also a sign of death, jlf a cock crows In a house a strangei ! may be expected. A mining superintendent in the West says that by the use of the chro nograph he ascertained the fact that the long pump hobs in his mine moved down at the top before they stopped coming up at the bottom—that to, they went both ways at once. This seems absurd, hut it is rational, for the pump Iwb being 3,000 feet long, and made of ; wood, some time elapses before motion at one end to transmitted through to the other. It would be interesting to know exactly where the neutral point s.—ifechanie over with the poor boy, when suddenly he caught the athlete round j the neck, squeezed, as if a vise, his I jugular, lifted him clean up into the air, | planted hiin as flat as a pancake upon his broad back, and rose the victor of as i fine a struggle as ever mortal eyes 1 U-held. We pitied the poor professional, for he looked so very downcast; but the amateur we admired so much that w< offered him money, which he refused, showing that he tw-longed to the better • lass, and w as no confederate. letter H riting. Some one who has lieen looking Into Ihe subject declares that promp atten tion to friendly correspondence requires xinsidcrablc nohilitv of biding. It Is undoubtedly the case that friendship which cannot Is- doubted often seems M fail when letters should be written. In importance the friendly letter scarcely equals the fashionablecalL If it rains the visit is simply postponed. But if the mental horizon is only cloudy—and it generally is w hen letter writing begins—the letter is also post poned. But generally for a much longer period and with scarrcdy a thought of the breach of good manners. Rut after all, th<- main root of our neg ligence is at the Is it torn of the heart. Love letters an- always written quickly and well. Why? Love is a passion finding a natural outlet in eloquence. Friendship is a sentiment lying still in the deep recess of our heart easily ig nored among the more vital rlaims for our interest. The passion of love needs restraint because it is the all-atworli ing, consequently harmful, element of our nature. The sentiment of friend ship needs cultivation liccause it is one of the spiritual elements which act as a restraint upon the former iu direct ing love from one to more. Now, we all know ourselves prone to Indulge In what needs restraint, and neglect what needs cultivation. The writing a love-letter is only indulging the pas sion which needs restraint, and the j neglect to write a friendly letter to neg lecting the sentiments which need cul- \ tivatlon. We see now why it to easier to write a love, business, or any other letter which concerns our immediate feelings or interest, but nobler to w rite a friendly letter which has nothing in itself to gratify. It to only with the noblest attributes of the soul that we can carry on a friendly correspondence with credit and pleasure. Hweet Krenlng* Tome and (Je. Bweet ivtntiK* n,ii,i- and go, litre. Tin-) earn* and wxtit of yore; Tlii* evening of our life, love, Kliall iro and come no more. When WO hnve |.UHW there, lore, The aLara in hon*eii will ahiuaf I shall not feel thy wish, lora, Nor thou my hand in thin*. A better time will come, lora. And better aoula be bora; I would not be the beat, lore, To leave thee now forlorn. —fJtrtry Eliot. FTNGKNT PARAGRAPH*. A talc of the sea—The ma serpent's tail. The la teat thing In cradles—The new baby. A movement on foot—a walking match. There is no doubt but a lean man can enjoy a fat legacy. The man with a wheel-barrow carries everything before him. When a powder magazine blows up ( it can, wo suppose, be called flash literature. New Orleans has tried a John China man on the jury, and he was a suc cess. He agreed with the other eleven. Hindoo girLs are taught to think of marriage as Mon as they can talk. American girls are not. They don't require teaching. An Indian boy 14 years old was held up and kissed by seven school girls, and he was so broken up over it that he tried to hang himself. The Long Branch hotel-keeper who charged a typhoid fever patient |1,!100 for three weeks' board is now in court to answer to the charge of robbery. George Francis.Train lives in Now York at an average expense of $3.80 j>er week for food. Ten years ago his cigars cost more than that per day. A Pacific coast exchange doubts if any man lives in San Francisco for any other purpose than to make enough money to get aw ay and live somewhere else. It is said that a woman wa the first one to discover the blotting pad. Don't believe it. If she had been in a hurry she'd have blotted the letter on her apron. It is said that the Governor of Missouri is jealous because ten persona call ujon Frank James to one upon him. Hasn't the Governor sand enough to rob a train. It has been fifty years since the papers commenced to advise people not to blow the gas out, and yet it is still practiced enough to keep the graviy digg' rs' business lively. The advance agent of a bat! show has the l>est time. He can get out of town l>efore his company performs. It is the manager who must stay and pay salaries and hear the compliments. There isn't any written testimony to prove that William Tell w as ever called upon to shoot an apple off his son's head. Indeed, at the time of Tell apples were rarely seen in Switzerland. A man fishing around in his pockets for a niekle to secure his admission to a five-cent lunch house, can hardly realize that the amount of coin in cir culation in this country is over |7tX>,- OOrt.OOO. My boy, when a man, any man, tells you he wouldn't have your horse or gun, or your dog a* a gift, don't offer to give it to him. That kind of a man always takes everything he can get for nothing, and never pays a cent for any thing. "Gentleman, you may not think it, but I have stood on the top round of the ladder," said an inebriated in dividual who was haranguing the crowd. "Troth; thin," exclaimed one of his hearers, "t hat same ladder mus* a' l>een lvin' flat on the ground." "You don't appear to catch on," remarked the post to the gate; "I like to see a gate well posted."—l feel hinge red by your remark." replied the gate; "your raillery seems barren of wit."—"Thatls your staple remark when you are shut up," answered the post; "you never like to see a post holed his own." Notice the