HIS DOWNWARD CAREER CHECKED, 112 The old detective stood at the cor ner of Broad and Wall streets talking with a friend, when a dignified look ing old man came along. The old de tective touched his hand to his hat as elderly man passed, and the latter returned the salutation. The old de tective watched him disappear around the corner of Nassau street with a cu rious smile on his face. He didn't stop smiling until the man was out of sight. Then he turned to his friend and remarked: "There never was a better illustra tion of the old saying that truth is stranger than fiction than the history of that man. There is a man who is highly respected by all who know him. He is a model of honesty and integ rity, and if any man intimated that he had ever done anything dishonest he would be laughed at. Yet the basis of that man's fortune was an act that would have sent him to prison for 20 years if it had ever been known. I know the story from the only other man In the world who ever knew the truth of the affair, and In all my life i never heard of anything to equal it. Do you happen to know that man?" "Never saw him in my life, and wouldn't know him if I met him five minutes from now," remarked the old detective's friend, who was wise in his day and generation. "Good," said the old detective. "Then I'll tell you the story. I won't mention the time, the place or the real names, for I would not want you to identify those who played a part in this affair. I'll call the old gentle man who just passed Lavery, because that isn't his name, and is about as far from it as any I can think of just now. Well, 20 years ago Lavery worked in a bank in Kings. Kings isn't on the map so far as 1 know, but the place where Lavery worked was, and is. Nevertheless, we'll call the place Kings. Lavery was a product of Kings. His father was a poor but much respected clergyman. He was a pretty fine preacher, and I believe had a lot of high-salaried calls from time to time, but he was one of those fellows wlio thought his field of labor was right where he was, and for whom money had little attraction. Lavery was brought up in Kings, and his father made a good job of it. He was the model young man of the town. He was no namby-pamby boy, and any one who tried to come it over him found himself up against a stiff propo sition wnen he went too far. Lavery was the best swimmer, the best boxer and the best all-round athlete in Kings, yet, withal, he was a church boy, never smoking or drinking, gam bling or using bad language, and al ways attending Sunday school and prayer meetings. He was pointed to as the coming man of Kings, and the town was proud of him. "There was nothing remarkable in the fact that when a vacancy occurred in the First National bank of Kings, Lavery was called to the place. Right here his career began. Nobody in town was jealous of his good fortune, no one thought of being, for the whole town sort of regarded it as Lavery's right to get the first good thing that came along. Now the job that Lav ery took was not very remunerative. He only got $3 a week, and his work was of the most menial kind, running errands and doing office work, from early morning until quite late in the evening sometimes. I say it wasn't the job, so much as the opportunity that it gave Lavery to rise, that made it a good thing for him. Well, Lav ery boned in like a good fellow. He was just the sort of a fellow to dig in and get onto things. He fairly thirst ed for knowledge and I verily believe that he would have made a go out of a peanut stand, if his father had started him in that line. "Careers in banks are not of the meteoric order, but Lavery certainly established a precedent in this regard. He didn't have to wait for people over him to die. in order to get ahead. He crowded the men over him out, and when he was only 30 years old was cashier of the National bank of Kings tit a salary of i'.DUO a year, which was quite a good deal, even for a bank ofll cial. in a small town like Kings. Lav ery had married the sweetest little girl in the town, in the meantime, and had duplicated her with another little girl, who was his pride and joy. He wns the happiest man in that town, and with his home, his wife and his baby, he had every reason to be. He bad a little money Raved up and a fine fat place that no man living could get away from him, as long its he behaved himself. "Now, I've had n great deal of ex perience with crooks, aud 1 have stud ied their ways and the motives that lead them to live Uvea of crime with great care, but this man I.avery was a mystery that I never could solve. Here was a man who had never done a dis honest act In IIIH life, who had nothing to gain, and everything to lose by dis honesty, and yet carefully planned out a robbery of the bank with which he hnd been connected alnce early child hood, and the oflcers of which trusted him Implicitly. Itrni't a»k me why he did It. I do not know, and no one else kuiiws. lie had never speculated or gambled, had a good home all paid for, a loving wlf ', a baby and a fat sur plus at the bank. If you want to know my teal opinion of the matter, I will |e|| you that I think livery waa era*y. clean craiy. and yet In < •lon of all the faculties that enable a man to plan aud carry out some great enterprise. "livery didn't (ttggle his books or Moat.-y with auy other man's if counts. If he had I wouldn't have had this story to tell. He would then have been an ordinary, every day felon, and would be wearing a number in some prison. No, that was not Lavery's game. With all the cunning of an ex perienced thief, he planned to rob the bank of all the money in the vaults, and then just drop out of sight. What might have been the stiffest kind of a job for a band of experienced cracks men, would be easy for Lavery, be cause he and the president were the only ones who had the secret of the great locks to the vault, and they were the only ones who ever stayed at their desks alone late into the night. "It was nothing unusual for Lavery to stay late at the bank. He was the kind of a man to work constantly, and the old watchman knew him so well that nothing he might do would have roused the slightest suspicion in his mind. Lavery knew this and he laid his plans accordingly. He made ar rangements to get out of town on an early morning train, and had a most elaborate plan for his wife to follow him at a later date. He did not take his wife into his confidence. !f he had, the thing would never have come off. She would have brought him to his senses with a round turn. As it was, Lavery went on dreaming of a South Sea island home, far from the clutches of the law, with every luxury that na ture could provide. It was the dream of a crazy man, but as I said a while ago, 1 am convinced that Lavery was crazy. Well, there was a lot of inter esting detail, which I'll omit just now, so as to get down to the meat of the story. The night came when Lavery made up his mind that the best chance possible offered for the plundering of the bank. In the great vaults were some $200,000, every dollar of which was within easy reach of the trusted hand of Lavery. Of this amount over i. half was in such shape that the man could carry it off with ease. "Lavery spent that day at his desk working about as usual. After bank ing hours he got the clerks around him and straightened things out. Then he closed his desk, walked into the office of the president, announced that he was going out for some luncheon, but would be back and would remain at the bank late. The president told the cashier that he was working too hard, but Lavery only smiled and went out. He came back at 8 o'clock that night and the watchman let him in. He had a large black valise with him, which he put alongside his desk, and then from S until 12 o'clock, he worked away over the papers on his desk. The most remarkable thing about it all was that Lavery was not playing for time as he worked. His labor was genuine—1 know that be cause I saw his books afterward. The old watchman came to the counting room at 11 o'clock, and again at mid night, and spoke to Lavery. He an swered cheerfully and once told the old man that he might be around until early in the morning. "It was about 1 o'clock when Lav ery rose from his desk, picked up his valise and started down into one of the vaults, the one where the large sums of money were kept. Ho didn't look to the right or the left. Never was man more confident of the suc cessful operation of his plans. A slight noise as he passed through tlio dark passageway failed to make him even start. He passed onto the vault and when he stood in front of the great steel doors, put his valise down on the floor and after a few seconds' work, succeedeil in swinging back the doors. Again there was a slight noise and this time Lavery looked around. A shadow flitted up toward him and then disappeared In a niche in the wall. " 'ls that >ou, John?' asked Lavery coolly, thinking it must be the watch man. There was no answer. Lavery was disturbed, but not frightened. He turned to the vault and with some haste began to pul! out great packets of bills. One or two packets he laid on the ground, the rest he placed in the \aline. His only light was the tuckering j,as Jet at the end of the passage, hut not an Inch of that vault was unknown to Lavery, and he could have done his work without any light at all. "Suddenly this flickering ga» Jet went out. Now Lavery waa no fool. Ho didn't delude himself with any false iil<-ad. He knew that there wan bumt'litiiiii behind the gas going out except a draught. H« put two and two together, and concluded that he had been followed into the vault l»y some one, who didn't care to In Keen. He tried to think what he inlaht have done or said to lieiray himself or hla plane, lie could thiuk of nothing. The fact remained, however, that he wax at the end of a blind passage with a valise full of the bank's money. \\ ho ewr turned out the light km w the trr.th. I.avery put hut hand In his pocket and slipped out the revolver which h<» always carried when he stayed late at the bank. Hi* reflec tii.ti> had occupied IWK than a minute, and ti.irlntf that time not a sound had ronie from the passage. I.avery walled until It twcuine Impossible for him to remain quid another second. The mole he thouuht the more convinced tie bi e'tnt* that he had been coru< red by the oitWrs of the bank That wax Ilia guilty conscience ||« strode forward until he had gt>n« atMtut 20 feet ||« I eard MIM* DM breathing «hca«i and sithout a momenta heal tation, atmed his revolver In that di rection and flred three shots In rapid succession. There was a most terrific outcry. Lavery plunged ahead again, but before he had gone three steps something struck him on the back of the bead. As he fell he turned quickly and firetl the two remaining shots from his pistol. Then he went slowly out of the world with yells of pain and shouts of alarm from somewhere in the distance ringing in his ears as his mind gradually passed away. "Lavery saw the light of the world again two weeks from that night. He came to in his own home and with his wife bending over the bed. For a mo ment he couldn't recall anything. Then like a flash it all came back to him. " 'I must get away,' he cried to his wife. 'I must get away. Quick, give me my clothes. Oh, my God, my God!' "Lavery went off into delirium, and the doctor shook his head and looked serious when he saw him and heard what he had said. The next time Lav ery's wandering senses came back tc him there wjis a strong man along side of his bed and when he tried to jump again he found himself pinned down. You may have guessed the situation by this time, but remember that Lav ery had not. When these two days of utter despair had passed, there was a call on the sick man, which caused him to bury his face in his hands and weep the first tears that he had shed since that eventful night. It was the old president of the bank, who came in, the old man who had been Lavery's friend since childhood, and who had always idolized the boy. The tears were streaming down his face as he entered and when Lavery saw that kind old face, his cup of bitterness ran over. He couldn't look in those eyes. " 'He's nervous,' said the nurse. " 'Poor boy," said the president, he's had a hard time of it. Well, he must be saved for his reward.' (Lavery's heart almost burst at this.) 'Ls.very,' said the president, leaning over the bed, 'don't you feel well enough to speak to me? I have waited two weeks to do my duty in this matter, and the doctor tells me you are well enough to talk a little. Lavery, your courage saved the bank $200,000. Of course, nothing that I can say now will give you any idea of the gratitude of the officers and directors. I want to tell you that you must hurry and get well, so that we can show our appreciation of your conduct.' "Then the president went out, and Lavery, almost stunned by those last few words, rolled over on his face and struggled to think. For hours he lay there silent, but thinking. His wife came In for the first time and from her lips came the story. For a month two famous burglars from New York had been tunnelling into the passage leading into the vaults. They had worked from the cellar of an office building adjoining, one of the men having secured permission to use an old coal bin there as a dark room for some photographic work. " 'And dearie,' said his wife, 'if it hadn't been for you, they would have got away with all that money. John, the watchman, says that the first idea he had that anything was wrong was when he hoard your pistol. He ran down toward the passage, and as he ran he heard shrieks of pain and more pistol shots. Suddenly everything was quiet, and when John lighted the gas he saw two men trying to drag them selves along toward a big opening in the wall. The blood was streaming from their wounds. They wtre the burglars. You shot one of them three times and the other twice. John found you unconscious on the floor with your head nil crushed in. John got help and that's all there is to it, except that they're only waiting for you to get well to try those two men. Oh, dearie, those men almost got tha money. They had a big, black bag with them, and there was over $">0,000 in it when it was found. There were thousands more scattered around the floor of tile vault. How you must have surprised them. And, dearie, the doc tor says that you must go away for a long time, and the directors of the bank have voted to send us all to Kurope for six months. Beside that they have voted you SIO,OOO reward, and your place will be held for you until you got back.' "Lavery's wife went out and Lavery tried to think. He found it easier than before. The truth came to him like an electric shock, but he was strong enough to listen to it without betray ing himself. He got well last after that, ami that's all there is to tell you about the matter. You saw Lavery pass a few minutes ago. lie never did a crooked thing again In his life, and 1 verily believe that he never thought a crooned thought again, lie is a New York bank president now. and I guess he Is a director of about 20 others. In eluding tie National of Kings. "Now you're going to ask me how I know all this. Does seetn strange, doesn't it? Well, I got my first hint ol it from the head crook of the two Who did tiie Job. lie told me In jail that it was a moral certainty that the easuler was robbing the bank when lit* and his pal happened In. If it wasn't for the taet that they were making a hero out of the cashier, he said, he would goon the stand ami till the facts as they really wore. lie was a cute duck. though, and told me that they had made such a popular idol out of the cashier that tin jury would probably soak him harder If he cast any nspersious ou the savior of the lank. The rest uf tin at or) I gut from tin' only other man 111 the u >rld who knows It tad lie tidd iee the whole thing when 1 threw at hiiu the facts that I hid tot from tht burglar and the result of my examination of the watchman It was years after the af fair, and so there Is uo hu nt In letting toe 111 Who he Wll- I lave )uU to Kuass. York bun. [CHjLDREN'SCOLUMNJ Little Bird, Don't Cry. There, little bird, don't cry ! They'll cut off your head, I know, Au i the strutting ways Of your barnyard days Will be things of long ago ; But the 000k will stuff you by and by— There, little bird, don't cry! There, little bird, don't cry I They'll eat you—you bet I know 1 — Ami the drumstick fat Aud the like of that Will be things of long ago ; But your overfed foes will groan and sigh- There, little bird, don't cry ! —Chicago Itecord. Eight TlioiiKund Eyea for One Fly, "Whoever thinks the male the supe rior animal finds no rest for the solo of his foot in the contemplation of what we, in the sublimity of our self conceit, call 'the lower animals.' " says a writer in Ainslee's Magazine. "In our general ignorance of the house-fly we do not know iust how foolish and the male Is. but we may reasonably infer that he is as mar kedly deficient as usual, seeing that his eyes are so close together that they touch each other. That's always a bad sign. If you see anybody w'th eyes close together ydu are entitled to think little of his intelligence. "The fly has two sorts of eyes, the big compound one, 4000 in a bunch on each side of the head, for knocking about in daylight, and three simple eyes on the top of the head for use in a poor light, sewing and line prinl. Before going into ecstasies of admira tion over the creature that has 4000 eyes on each side of its head it might be well to remember that they are not of much account. In case of old flies kept over winter the compound eyes cave in and get broken, yet th? fly seems to get along and find food. One kind gentleman varnished over the simple eyes and piucked off the wings of some flies. He found that ho might hold a candle close enough to burn the compound eyes of the fly be fore it had a suspicion that anything out of the common was going on. 111 daylight he took a knitting needle and brought it up in front of the fly close enough to touch its antennae before It dodged. If the knitting needle was brought up on one side Mr. Fly peckea up his sticking plaster feet quite live ly. The Kangaroo*, Ir. the continent of Australia, where there are so many queer plants and animals, lives the numerous and droll looking family of the kangaroos. There are several varieties of this family, but all have the same general characteristics; a very 'arge tail, very long hind legs, and very shoit fore legs. Kangaroos can out-jump the very best jumpers you ever kdw, or heavl of. They use their loug hind leg/ something in the grasshopper style: and their tails are not only big, but Ftrong, and are of great assistance to Ihem in their leaps. Their flesh is good to eat, and so they are hunted a great deal. Instead ol running from their pursuers like the swift-footed hares and antelopes, they jump away from ihem. and in this manner they get over a great ex tent of country in a very short time Running would be impossible to crea tures with such ridiculously short fiont legs; but leaping answers the same purpose, and. as this is their natural mode of progression, they do not get tired any sooner than other animals do by running. The kangaroos are by no mear.s ugly animals, and, though they look awkward when standing on all fours (which they very seldom do) they are very graceful while making thoi leaps. One of the prettiest species of tho kangaroo family is called the ante lope kangaroo. Its head and ears arc similar to those of the antelope in ap pearance. Kangaroos are common enough !n menageries, and the next time you visit such a place look for one. It seems a pity to shut them up in cages, where they have no room to take even the smallest jump. But, then, ll' they were not caged there Is n.» knowing where they would jump t<. Some of the old kangaroos are rough customers when brought to bay. A big fellow will sometimes seize *i d >g Ir. his short fore legs and with >»ne of hie great hind feet give him a acrape that will make him wish he had never teen a kangaroo. Just as you have seen a quiet, peace able boy when he hail been annoyed by n teasing and quarrelsome lellow, suddenly blaze up and astonish the young rascal by giving him a good thrashing.—The Weekly Boquet l.lltt-MitvliiK Kslritoritliinry. In St. Nicholas. Lieutenant Worth U. Ross. U. S. Itevenue Cutter Service, tells of au extraordi nary rescue on the shore of Lake Su perior. A schooner and steam barge were stranded at Marquette, and aft»r making heroic efforts a.I day long t-> succor the survivors, the would-be rescuers telegraphed to a regular life saving crew. Some one proposed this as a last resort. It seemed like a for lorn hope, for the nearest station was thru at Ship Canal, a hundred and ten luili ft distant! However, the ciianc \ Meager as It looked, w» consider' I worth taking, and arrangements we • • at I lice begun to bring the lite-b iSt ultd us crew A telegram, whiih had lo be tarried six miles Uy a tuu win lent to tVu keeper uf r "P --purtances, were taken on the tug, which steamed as fast an she could to Houghton, where was waiting a train consisting of an engine, a passenger coach, and two flat-cars. It took the life-savers but a short I'me. with the helpers who volunteered, to put tho apparatus on board the cars and se cure, it.after which the train sped swiftly out into the night on her mer ciful errand, followed by the resound< ing cheers of the crowd of persons who had come upon the scene. Perhaps no life-saving crew had ever before started out on a journey so exceptional. They were stirred to the noblest impulses by its intense significance, and had determined among themselves to do or die in the perilous task before them. Although the track was heavy with snow, the powerful locomotive raced on at high tpeed through the driving tempest, at times almost reaching the rate of a mile a minute. The coating of snow made the engine and cars look strangely grotesque us the train pulled into the railway station at Mar quette, after a run (with its necessarv stoppages) that had never been match ed under the circumstances. It waa nearly midnight when the crowd o' expectant and cheering men helped the life-savers and their appliances from the cars. Wagons and sleighs had been provided to take them to the lake, and also a plentiful supply of food for the half-starved sailors when they should be brought ashore. After a hard trip along the dark beach, in the wash of the surf, which was thick with driftwood, the station crew finally arrived abreast of the ves sels. A throng of people were there before them, anxiously awaiting their arrival. The bonfires which had been kept burning gave nesded light to the workert, and, in view of the great seas that were tumbling in, it was thought best to attempt first a rescue by means of lines. One was firrd over the steam-barge amidships, but it ap pears that the sailors were prevented from getting it by the tush of break ers across the decks. The keepers now decided to use the boat. There were two reefs to pass, over which the waves were dashing with frightful fury. The lifeboat crossed the first one, shipping three seas on the way: but, the rudder becoming disabled, the men were obliged to return. While rt pairs were being made another shot was flred over the vessel, but 110 one reached the line. At daybreak the boat was aga'n launched, and by strenuous and un daunted exertions the oarsmen held to their work, succeeded In crossing the :eefs, alive with foaming breakers, and got alongside the l.arge. By this time the lifeboat was sheathed with ice, the seas having frozen on the planking and being thus weighed down, It was considered prudent to take in enly nine of the vessel's crew. With these a start was made for the shore, which was regained after another val iant and perilous passage. Two more trips were made to the v/recks by the life-savers, their boat at times being flooded rnd partially beaten back, arid once nearly thrown end over end on the reef. The men themselves were drencaed with Icy water, which made their work much harder to endure. Their heroic and indomitable efforts were crowned with full success, every one on the two vessels, 24 in fill, being saved. Many of these worn almost frozen and nearly starved, and were immediately taken by the citi zens to the fires on the beach where there was food. I cannot do better here than to quote from the report ol the general superintedent of the Life-Saving Ser vice touching this memorable achieve ment of the Ship Canal crew: "To have come rushing through the night and tempest over so many snowy leagues to the rescue of a group of de spairing sailors, and then, with hearts greater than danger, to nave gone out again and again through the dreadful bieakers and brought every man nshore, was a feat so boldly adventur ous that the current accounts of It in the public journals roused, at the time, the whole lake region to Intense enthusiasm, and sent thrills of sym pathy and admiration through the country." A "Two-Story" Street, At the suggestion of Sir Frederick Bramwell a new scheme of street building is being considered In con nection with the new boulevard which is to be built through London, from north to south. The idea is to make a second footway, or pavement, on a level with the second floor, thus doub ling the number of shop windows and considerably Increasing the business capacity as well as the rental value of the adjoining property. This footway would be 12 or 14 feet wide, and may be either built out over the lowi r pav» uient or the second story of the building s» t back sufficiently to allow such a walk to tie made over the projecting roof of the lower story. Nu merous crossways las well as stair ways and possibly elevators) would be made to tho corresponding walk on the other side, so that the result would be practically a two-story street. There are a number of obvious mluor disadvantages which would have to lie overcome, among them the certainty that the street boy would consider such a structure as a combi nation of speedway and gytuuasluui coustru ted for his especial lUi*. and also the extra care which would be required to keep sin h an overhead pas sageway clean and sanitary, THE GREAT DESTROYEE SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. Pn«s fli" Tlraiuly— Satire on tlie W»v On# Man Spent HI. Whole T.lfc In Krret fntr a Monumirit t[» III* W«r»t Knnu) —Broke HU Wife'* Heart l>v Uoliig It Devil. devil! You're a youth, I ricked with gay convention's smile liii'idimr horns on head, forsooth! Arc thev hifl beneath vour tile? They maligned you!— Tail in roil— Hoofed in natent leather tights— Never a tender sold could soil From such affable delights. Devil, devil! Smooth of chin! Manners nolished like a pin! Devil, devil! I'rav don't cavil! (Open the door and let him in)! Devil. devil! How you've grown! Pardon me—eh?—if T observe Those horns. What! These your own? These, these little shiny knobs? A)i. vour hoofs and tail are bare' "Handier that way?" Well. I guess! Always liked you! Take a chair. .Toin me in a B. and S. Devil, devil! Where've you been? Drawn and smug and all n-grin! Devil, devil! Imn of evil! (Open the door and let him in)' Devil, devil! You are old. So am T, too. ha, ha!—sad! Once I thought you onlv bold— T was young then. Why. you're bad* Where's my child-look that you stole? This is where the bargain ends. I'.'ss the brandy—rot your soul! What's a joke between two friends? Devil, devil! Satan's kin! Bi" and bad and black as sin! Devil, devil! Own my hovel! (Open the door and let him in)! —Post Wheeler, in New York Press. Jonathan Kludon's Monument. "Jonathan Rigdon died very poor, didn't ho. Deacon?" T said. "Yes, they buried him in a pauper's "rave. Poor TCigdon! And he had a big heart," said the Deacon. "He spent his whole life and a big fortune building a monument to another man." "Was the monument ever finished. Dea con?" "Yes. and Jonathan did it." "How ?" "Well," said the Deacon. sadly, "Jonn- Mian commenced it early. He commenced putting money into the monument at sev enteen and finished it a* fifty." "And he gave his whole time to it?" "Yes. ho worked night and day. all night long, and on the Sabbath. He seemed to be in a hurry to get it done He put all the monev he earned upon it— snv $;">00.000. Then he borrowed alf he could, and when no one would lend him any more he would take his wife's dressps and bedclothes and many other valuable things in his home and «.ell them to get more money to finish the monu ment." "How self-sacrificing!" "Yes. Jonathan sncrifieod everything fnr this monument," said Ihe Deacon "lie eame home one day and was about to take the blanket that lav over hift sleeping baby, and his wife tried to stop/ him. but he drew baek his fist and knocked her down, and then away with the blankets and never brought them back, and the poor bal sickened and died from the exposure. At last there was nothing left in the house. The poor heartbroken wife soon followed the baby to the grave Yet Jonathan kent working all the more at the monument. I saw him when he was about fifty years old. The monument was nearlv done, but he had worked so af it that T hardly knew him, he was so worn: his clothes were nil in tatters, his face and nose were terribly swollen. And the wretched man had been so little in good society all the while that he was building that he had about forgotten how to use the English language; his tongue had some wav become very thick, and when he tried to speak out would come an oath." "But the eood man did finally accom plish the work?" T said. "Yes, he finished it." said the Deacon, bis eves moistening with tears. "Oh. I should like to see it." I said. "Come with me." said my informant, sadly, "and I will show it to you. It stands in a beautiful part of the city where five streets meet. Most men put such things in a cemetery. But John had his own way and putin one of the finest lots to be found." "Does it look like (Grant's monument?" "Yes, it's a good deal like Grant's mon ument. ft is a erand house. There it is— look at it!" said the Deacon, pointing to a beautiful mansion. "see! it is high and large, with great walta and fire-places, and such velvet carpets, and. oh. what mir rors! Isn't it rich and erand?" "And who lives in it. Deacon?" "Why, the man who sold Jonathan Rigdon nearly all the whisky be drank. He lives there with his family, and they wear the richest, finest clothes, and " "And poor Jonathan?" "Why. he's in the pauper's graveyard Alas'" sighed the Deacon, "the world is full of monuments built by poor drunkards who broke the hearts of de voted wives, and starved sweet children to do it."—The New Voice. A JuilKe on Liquor. In opening the Superior Court, in Char lotte. the other day, the presiding judge *aid in his charge to the jury: "Gentlemen of the jury, if any of you are in the habit of drinking intoxicating liquors, 1 ' ope you will desist from tin habit this week. A man is not fit for the discharge of any duty when he is under the influence of wliixky. It is not only a contempt of court, but it is a tnisdemean or for a juror to become intoxicated. I wish, also, to impress the fact on the minds the suitors, the witnesses and the officers of the court, that you eannot properly discharge your duty when under the influence of liquor." I ndoubtedly this testimony is true Whisky does incapacitate men for busi ness No one wants to trade with an in toxicatcd merchant, or entrust his inter ests to an intoxicated lawyer or have an ttttoxif.it d physician prescribe for him or an intoxicated jury to decide a case in court for him. Yet men * II drink it, and mam who do not drink will vote for it, and keep the evil in the reach of thost who are addicted to the habit We dc not see how such persons can hope to ju* 111y their conduct in the sight of (»od when they help to k**ep a stumbling block or an occasion to fall in their brother's way. Our Youug t'eople, Tli«* fro•*iiu again. Nothing u so treacherous as light wines Alcohol is a cou»umiualu bar v144 t» go ngUl in.