Evening Star Newspaper, December 18, 1875, Page 7

gd the beach, windy piacs, fg Dice level f the ocean abtues — > tant sarf wi varse, complaint ‘pee! Tut from ite sandy barrier scome te rang eee Rod while the stn behind the lines, woods ‘The moaning sea with sighing boughs gntwines, each to each. Aud waves and pines make answer, Cpelanctely *-al,—whom, far and near. In life, faicb hope. the same sad undertone Purses fry ™m thought to thought—thon needst must # Ap cld refrain, too much. too long thine own? = thy mortality tufects thine ear. . be monrnfal strain was ia thyself alone! {Crrstopher P. Cranch 1m Derember Atlantic, KITTY. CHAPTER THE FIRST. “He will be sure to come before the sum- fe mer is over,” said little Kitty to herself. She was always called little Kitty, al- though nineteen years old. but she was round and soft and pretty and petable, and looked like a littie kitten, so the name and the ad- jective suited her perfectly. And she was very careful, in spileof many a temptation to the contrary, not to Wear her new white mouslin dress at the doctor's wife’s or the lawyer's wife's party, and none of her best bows were seen at ehurch, though on manya Sunday the sun shoneso brightly it seemed to be almost insulting not to wear them. She was keeping them all for the benefit of John Laurence when next he came to stay at the Laurels, which he was sure todo soon, forhe always turned up about twice in the year. Old Mr. Hughes was very fond of his big bandsome nephew, who had not long attain- ed the elevated positi the artille bs of @ Meutenant in ng NO son of his own, ntlatled, it was perhaps ‘ be should make much of There was Hughes m to marry t been cor cussed t er reason, too, why old 1ch of John—he wanted him ater; nay, it had always & settled though undis- hat he should do so, and people re engaged. Kitty believed * all nonsense, for Caroline 1 and thin, with two large king out ta front ber jered 2 she was otherwise azrevable), never John Laurence nade love to Kitty. He © fashion sively, and never ‘ons before other ® love to her, that tid not be » that he Kitty did not oftea goto y's father was only a re- h well off, and Mr. and es ranked among the big nd only invited the pro- sud thelr wives once or twice er. and their daughters once or to # ball or & croquet party. It Kitty to think that this social their station at Cragford was reason why the love that John toher was clandestine. Poor she bad not a very nic2 time of why you do not give Mr. » encouragement,” Mrs. Hor- saying to her. “He will be w there are very few his dead-alive place.” ‘asa young surgeon who jown in Cragford about a year He wore spectacles, hai thin Jegs and red hair. and was not by any means a@ charming o ject to behol He was very Baverstock 1 ton was a devoted to Kitty, asali Cragford Knew, but itty alw snubbed bim unmereifally. «I detes' m. mama.” (Kitty’s papa had unexpectedly taken to himselfa second wife dur: ® visit to London about iwo years since, and Kitty called her mamma to please him, but there was no love lost be- iween them.) “Why, he’s as ugly as @ toad.” “He is get &@ very good practice.” “I would sooner marry the man io the moc i she settled restlessiy down to read * lah Rookh” for about the twenty- seventh time that year. It was a beautiful- ly bound e:itt radiant in crimson and gold, and i!!ustrated with beautiful pictures protected by tissue paper. Somebody had sent it mously to Kitty on her last birthday ie declared she did not know Where it came from, aud it was quite trueshe didn't but she could have made an excellent guess if she lad tried. CY APTER THE SECOND. Only a week later, and John Laurence had @rrived at the Laurels. Mr. Baverstock brought the news, and when Kitty heard it she looked so sweet, the surgeon feit himself encouraged, and ventured to stay the even- ing. There was only one vexing thing, that he had brought his friend Mr. Fletcher with bim again. He had aecompanied John Lau- rence on hi las: two y.sits to Cragford, and Kitty hac feiton each occasion that he had been decidediy in the way; for whenever, quite by accident, John had’ met her when she was out for a walk, Mr. Fletcher had not been far off, and she devoutly wished him at “I hear Miss Hughes's marriage isto come off this summer,” Mr. Baverstock said, inhis Weak alto voice, “aud now that the young gentieman Is here I daresay it willbe all ar- ranged.” “No doubt,” said Mrs. Horton, a little Spitefully. forshe had noticed his attentions to Kitty, an felt they boded her no goud— probably put -idieulous ideas into her head, @nd prevented her from accepting the illus- trious Frederick, who was ready to throw bimself at her feet on the slightest provoca- tion. “I have always heard that they were very much attached to each other.” Mr-. Horton hat not heard anything of the kind; but no matter—she was given to fib- bing. The very next day the hero calle}. He lcoked baudsomer than ever, Kitty thought. diis shoulders were broader,his hands bigger, aud bis face more sunburnt. He taiked enief- ly to Mrs. Horton, but he kept looking acr: at Kitty—that pretty, innocent, round-faced Kitty, with tweek coat, to be some croquet up at the Laurels on Thursday, and my aunt wants you tocome.” The white muslin dress was donned, and the coquettish hat and the little make-be- hieve wrap twisted about her shoulders to the Hest advantage, and Kitty was ready for the party at the Laurels. She did look very retty, as even her step-mother secretly ac- OW ledged. “Remember, Kitty, I shall ex; Lyou home by seven o'clock. tis not right for you to come later through those woods aloue. In- deed, I think Mrs. Hughes ought to have asked me to chaperon you.” “Yes, mamma,” and Kitty went on her joyfal way. The woods Mrs. Horton alluded to were private ones, belonging to the Lau- rels, but they made ashort cut for Kitty, and saved her a good half-mile of road. «Per- haps he will come and meet me,” she thought shyly, and strained her eyes to catch sight of his awkward figure in the dis- iance, but it did notappear. The. presently she heard the distant chureh clock chime balf-past three. ‘There! I'm much too early. ‘We Were not even asked till four. I know what I'lldo when I get farther on; I'll sit down ina shady tof the wood and wait till about five utes after the hour.” So she went o: ad when she was within a quarter ofa mile of the house branched off intoa thick part of the wood and followed a sleepy stream that wandered on beneath the tall trees and among the tangled underwood, feeked with water-lilies and fringed with Fellow trts, which nodded their golden heads io the sun. She found a quiet leafy nook close to its edge, and sat down and Waited. Then suddenly through the distant trees she Saw coming along the edge of the stream two Dgures, those ofa man and a we One she knew at a giance—it was John Lan- renee; the other she saw a minute later was bis cousin Caroline. With a box beart seemed to come into her thro Miss Hughes,” she sald to hersel’, nice she looks, and what a pretty ¢. bas on!” She drew her white musi T round her, and retreated a few inches farther back bebind the thick bushes, so Unat they might pass her unperceived, and waited. On they came, arm in arm, talking earnestly a in a low voice. The color fled from Kitty's cheek, and the light died out of her eyes, as she saw thern, for surely only lovers Walked as they did? They stopped as they got to within three yards of Kitty's hiding place, while Caroline Hughes stopped ab- — to pick one of the yellow water-iris, and Kitty heard her say— “Do you know, John, I never liked you so Well as Ido to-day, and I thought you did not care for me.” “My dear girl, I was always awfally fond of you. I think you ought io give me a kiss to make up for all the unkind things you have been saying.” She put up her face, and Kitty looked Sway. witha pain which almost made her pn they passed on aud were soon last tw view. Kitty did not move from her biding-place, and went to no croquet party that afternoon. Mrs. Horton almost screamed with sur- prise an bour later, when Kitty sudieoly ap- peared. her muslin dress crashed, the rose in front of her dress all faded, and her cheeks @ud lips as white as the jasamine about ner head, as she stood in the window leading fn from the garden. “Mamma, I felt ill, and my head ached, and I sat in the wood, and felt too ill to go on, and I have come back.” “Didn't you see any one?” Mrs. Horton asked doudtfully. “I have not spoken to a soul,” she an- Swered, and went to her room, saying she Wished to He down. in the dusk of the evening Kitty came down stairs again, to find Mr. Baverstock talking with her father and stepmotner. “We were talking of getting married, Kit- ty.” Mrs. Horton said, way for her to sit cown; hat she stood staring at the Stroup before Ler almost as if in a dream. “And Mr. Baverstock says he ih Marry #n heiress for the world? liane: Hes “No. inceet I would not, mies Kitty. 1 should only marry because I loved the young lady, and ielt i eould devote my life to her.” | | {And why co you expect 16 be married, «Well I hope i Spe th . 5 the youn; have an'aiection form-eeer Oey Will Kitty would have time, but row she Mane wont through th u rou; eo ite and Just a littie way down the lane again, feeling if she would give anything to walk poo On and out of the weary world alto- “Kitty well-known voice said softly, and John Lanrence appeared from behind -« tree and stood belore her in the dirn light. “T have been waiting here on the mere chance of seeing you. Why didn’t you come to- day?” she said faintly. “My F little girl,” and hedrew her hand ber arm. “Why, what was the mat- But she shran« back. she said, drawing herself up; “only I am going home.” “Something is the matter now,” he ex- — “Why, Kitty, what is it; my little ” “You have no right to speak to me like that,” she said, while the hopeless tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, “What would your cousin say: —you who areengaged, and going tobe married.” ~I’ I'm sure I'm not—at least, it’s not ar- ranged yet—though Caroline is gol b meen igh Carol going to be “Yes. to you.” “Ob dear! no; it’s to Fletener.” “Why, I saw you kiss her this afternoon, and heard you say you were awfully fond of her.’* ell, what then? She'd been telling me in confidence about Fletcher, and getting me to manage it with my uncle, who'd had some ridiculous notions in his head, and I was congratulating her and telling her wnat he'd said, and thought I deserved a cousinly kiss for my pains.” Was that it?” she said in amazement. “Yes, it was, you little goose”—for he could not help seeing the state of the case—“and you see, I've been hanging about here on the chance of seeing you. I wanted to tell you how fond I am of you, you little darling, and toask you to be my wife.” And then he did to Kitty what he had done to his Consin Car oline in the afternoon, and. Bat never innd, the story is told, and you can guess how pretty Kitty looked on the day she was married to her hero.—Cassell’s Fiwnily Monthly Magazine for December. Fried Potatoes. A great deal of good materia! is wasted for Want of proper cooking. Food which mignt have been made delicious with litile trouble often comes upon the tables coarse and al- Most uneatadle. Ofall the vegetables which suffer from ignorant handling, potatoes are the most ill-treated. Day afterday people are expected to eat boiled potatoes, wa- teryand half done, baked potatoss, full of imperfections and also watery; mashed po- tatoes, yellow, “‘sogz3’ and tasteless. and fried potaties, cut thick, swimming in grease, and as detestable to the eye as they are abominable to @ well-trained palate. The real Saratoga potatoes areeasily pre- a d,an¢ are delicious for brekfast or luneh. he first thing necessary for their prepara- tion is the parchase ofa small appliance of wood and s‘eel, which somewhat resembles a@carpenter’s plane. This article is known to hardware dealers, honsekeepers and gro- cers as a “‘ca>tage cutter,” as itis used to cut all these things. it costs only 60 cents, and very easily and neatly shaves off the Taw potatoes in slices almost as thin as pa- Tr. A handful of these slices is thrown nto bol'ing lard, and as soon as they are nicely browned they are to be removed with a@ skimmer, care being taken to drain off every particle of the hot fat. They should be salted immediately, and kept in a hot dish by the fire until the right quantity has been prepared for the meal. The dish must not be covired, as that would make them fat- soaked. Potatoes cooked in this way look as daintily es they taste, laud are very quickly mace ready with tne aldof the ex- cellent little “cutter.” New York Tribune. A Livery Conpuctor.—A fewdays ago a freight conductor on one of the rallroads went to the superintendent and said he thought he ought to be advanced, having served on the freight for several years. The superintendent agreed with bim,and toid him that the change should be made the very next week. And it was made. The super- intendent a day or twoafter took a seat in the rear end of one of the coaches to see how the new conductor would take to business, and pretty soon the official danced into the door, cap on his ear, sleeves pushed up, and @ half-acre smile on his face. “Get out your pasteboards!” he shouted, “I'm the high muncky muck that runs this train,” and then, turalng right and left, he continued: “Right bowers this way—play lively—pass or order up—how’s trumps your side—slide you right into Chicago—hurry up, there— trump this ace—what kind of a hand do you hold, oldman?” ere was something novel and exhitl- Srating in his style, but yet the super- intendent called the conductor up stairs the next day and told him that he was the best man io America torun a freight train. and that he would have to promote him back- wards. He was too talented for a passenger conductor.—Detroit Free Press. DECLINE OF THE FRENCH POPULATION. The decline in the population of France, while most of the surrounding countries are daily increasing, has arrest the attention of the Journal des bag gs eater the most intelligent newspaper of Paris. Comment- ing on the gloomy pi ts of its country, the Journal says: “When we think what the civilized people will bein @ hundred ears, or even in fitty; when we see the Taitea States occupying all North America with a ulation of a hundred million; England with its colonies in Africa, Austra- lia and Asia, wing daily in wealth, num- bers and civilization; Russia gee all thern and Central Asia, and perhaps de- 4 , planted in the middie of Europe, & mass of sixty to eighty Million souls—and we Frenchmen, where shall we be? What will be our importance? What weight shall we bear in the world? Where wiil be the old supremacy, not alone of our statesmanship, but of our custom and our language?” e Journal sees in its neglect of colonial development the cause of the decline of France. NS NURSED BY A TERRIER.— iy caged in the dimly-lighted lower regions of Central Park museum are two young lion cubs. They are three weeks old, apair, lion and lioness, fine, healthy little creatures, and in two weeks more will be old enough to — = = = meet are the progeny of a pair 01 nown a8 Lineoin and Jenny in the Museum. But the mother being from confinement or some | other cause, unable to nurse them, they were atonce given to a large terrier, whose pup- | pies were taken away, and who plays the part of a foster-mother. She seems, indeed, as fond of the cubs as if they were her own offspring, and covers them with caresses, though they are already half as big as she is. It is a curious fact that lions reared in cap- Uvity are not as gentle as those captured and tamed. The parents of the cubs, which were caught when wild, and tamed, are very tractable, while some of the other lions which were brought up here are sullen and ferocious.—N. Y. Times, 12th. Rev. Dr. TALMAGE’s IDEA OF HEaven.— (From his recent book. }—Modern discovery shows that the planets go around the sun anid that the sun and the planets—indeed all the celestial systems—go in one direction and in one circle, all going around about some great central world; 4 world vast beyond all astro- nomical calculation; @ world vast enough, by power of gravitation, to wheel the whole universe around it. As our sun—our little sun—is five hundred larger than the earth or the planets. thus wheeling them around it, so, then, i suppose, the great central world of which is five hundred times larger a other worlds put together, so as to w! them around it. Fou must believe in the ex- istence of such @ central world, uniess you reject all scientific exploration and deduc- on. That world, stupendous beyond arith- metic, beyond words, beyond imagination, I believe is heaven. CATS, foxes and weasels have always en- Joyed the reputation of being remarkably sly, aud they no doubt deserve it; but noth- ing can surpass the slyness with which a Woman, surprised by an unexpected caller, will slip a set of false teeth into ber mouth. Brooklyn A: TuEnx are three hundred million of paper collars made in the United States every i: but let a man find that he has worao his be dressing for @ pariy, and 1 dance round and swear like a double- barreled pirate.— Rockland Courier. AN ENTERPRISING CITIZEN of Sumner county, Kansas, is getting rich fast. During the a plague he corralled about festive jampers, and has been shipping sardines to the east ever since.— Laramie Bun- THAT was a smart thing the man of Richmond, Ind., did. They called @ council and resolved to snub Tilton by not his | and the result was Mr. al Tilton lectured toa full house, aud tne worid still moves.—Ind. Herald. MEN who have no sons of their own to shovel the snow from their sidewalks, should not leave the snow to be removed by the sun of the universe.— Times. The Phenomena of Dead Faces. [From the New York Dimes. There is no longer any doubt oi ‘the fact that the faces of the change in expres- sion even as do those of the living. The sab- ject is @ ghastly one, and should iy iotreceare Hawttorke, ova Vie. tor Hugo; but it hasa side of human and Scientific Interest_one which the physician @nd the philosopher should examine. It may bear upon that dreadful and not sufficiently investigated subject of premature inter- ments, and upon the Propriety of cremation, aud of willow basket coffins, which, last sub- Ject brought together a gay and fashionable crowd @t Stafford House, and gave rise in witty epigrams, occasion demanded. lot of old clothes” London to innumerable rather lighter than the Alere is one of them:— c *—no matter who'd ssk it— y-packed, badly filled, rickety bas- However, the author of the above did not contemplate, perhaps. the possibility of his supposedly rigid face smiling at his own wit when old Charon should refuse him as freight = eXpressage, @ven as petite vitesse or other- wise. But dead faces imile—they blush, as did Charlotte Corday’s after her head was cut otf; and the annals of the French revolution are full of horrible stories of eyes which winked, shed tears, or shot angry glances, and of lips which smiled, seornfally or re Signedly, ere they Kissed the fatal basket into which they were tumbled. The expla- bation of this was that the gutllotine's sharp and sudden administration left the brain well charged with blood, and it could con- Upue its functions for a dreadfal moment after the body hed ceased to belong to it. If this Is true, the guillotine is by far the most cruel of all the arts of decapitation. Tne Spanish garrote, which by one fell screw in the back of the neck paralyzes all sensation at once, is far more merciful, although no one who has been subjected toits tender mer- cies has ever come back to tell us if there be hot one instant of intense agony, as there probably is However, to return ‘to the phenomena, all who have looked upon the faces of the dead have been struck with that change of ex- pression which comes over them in twenty- four hours. That glorified and happy look! It is, thank God, almost always a happy ex- pression—one which seems to say tuat the words of the prayer book were hosen, and that “he rests from his labors.” Byron refers to it, in bis immortal way, in the well- Known lines: ‘pligmho hath bent him o'er the dead , jay of death is fled, lark day of nothi; (Before decay's effacing finger: Have ewept the lives where beanty Iugers,) ud marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repoed that’s there. So fair, so calm, 0 softiy seated, ‘The first, ust took by death reveates.”” All this is well Known, and has done much to strengthen the Christian's hope, and to enabie us, who have buried our dearest trea- Sures, to combat the Giant Despair; but there has come another and more difficult problem to solve; one which revives the old traditions of ghouls and vampires; one which was not pleasant tocontemplate at dead of night—and that is that the dead have been seen to smile. Itcame first from the battle field, or, rather, the most startling of recent anecdotes on the subject was that of a nurse at Sanger's Sta- tion during our late war, who declared that two dead men, whom she had laid out the night before, had smiled perceptibly amid their cerements as a wounded sutler was narrating some of his wrongs. Now, the idea of a sutier having any wrongs, or hav- img done otherwise than perpetrate them, Was an idea calculated to create a smile be- neath the ribs of death; put the surgeon was very much struck by the gravity with which the nurse told the story, and he looked at her with some anxiety, for he thought sie had gone insane from overwork. She was not a hired nurse, but a lady volunteer, and of re- markable coolness and intelligence. She, however, bore his scrutiny calmly, and begged of him to examine the two dead soldiers before they were consigned to hasty and inhospitable graves. He did, and found them quite dead. Sheal waysadhered to her Story, and does to this day. The second anecdote is perhaps as remark- able. It comes from a western city, and has been mentioned inone or two medical works. This story ts of a lady of about 33 years of age. a remarkably beautiful woman, and the mother of four children, three sons and a daughter. She had suffered much from the unreasonable jealousy of her hus- band, who, although he loved her much, had one of those ungovernably jealous tempera- ments which Hannah More has delineated in her charaeter of de Montfort, in the “Plays of the Passions.” She was a woman of re- markable propriety of conduct and patient with bis infirmity; an excess of goodness not often found in the Innocent, whoare not foad of being suspected, as a general rule. Her best friend and constant defeuder was the sister of her husband and the wife of the family physician. It was to her indifference that the poor lady owed what ce she en- Joyed for the last few years of her life. She was attacked by heart disease and suffered greatly, but was able to go about and drive out for several months. During the progress of this illness her husband took up a terri- ble jealousy of the family physician, his own brother-in-law, a fact which he did not communicate to his sister, the physician's wife. One day, the poor invalid, wuile driv- ing, felt a paroxysm of pain coming on, and told her coachman to drive to the house of the doctor. He did so. She got out, went in, and, finding him with other patients in his office, received a draught of digitalis or some other well-known ety. his hands, and lly recovered. But having imme- diately to leave her to take care of the other patients, he called his wife and left her in of her sister-in-law, telling her to take care of her and see her to her carriage, as she was in iAP pp per ey condition. The two ladies talked together for a half hour, when the sufferer arose and declared her in- tention of going home. She had just got to the door of her carriage when she fell dead on the sidewalk. She was of course brought back Lo the doctor's office, where, after every effort to resuscitate her had failed, her hus- band was sent for and her limbs were com- posed in death. When the jealous man arrived his fary knew no bounds. He accused the dead in opprobrious terms; he accused the doctor of having ruined his domestic peace; he raved like @ madman, nay, he even refused to ha ve the remains brought to his own house, and declared that his wife might be buried fn the Street for all he cared. This awful scene was ended by the arrival of the eldest son, a young man of remarkable character, decision and energy. He took his father home and locked him up and caused the remains of his mother to be also brought home, and made arrangements for her burial. On the second day after her death, as she lay in her coffin, her children weeping around her, and her husband, pate and haggard, the greatest sufferer of all, stood at her feet,’ the doctor's wife, the sister-in-law, arrived. It seems that she had fainted from the shock of seeing her sister die, and had herself been carried off to her own room, so that she had not known of the dreadful scene in the doc- tor’s Gone bed of her —* Lcd access of tury; so she began quite unconsciously to tell bim and the children of her last. conver- sation with their mother. As she did so the poor jealous maniac began to tremble and relent. “Were you with her during that visit to your husband's office?” said he. “Yes, every moment,” said the loyal wo- man. They all looked at the dead woman; as they did so the rigid mouth relaxed and’ the two rows of teeth became visibie; the smile grew; it was sarcastic and mocking, but it was @ smile; the husband looked at it with eyes which started from his head; the young- est boy fell down in a fit; the eldest son, still remarkable for his self-possession, put his hand on the cold, pale brow. “Are you alive, dear mamma?” said he; the smile changed; it grew infinitely tender and sweet, the mouth closed as it had opened, mysteriously. He ran out of the room, exclaiming: “She lives! I will go for the doctor.” During the time one witness remained chained, as he afterwards said, to his post of observation; it was the second son, a of 15. The father had moved to pick up the poor youngest boy, who had fallen in a the aunt was consoling the your gest child, irl, yet too young two tinderstand: th ‘ul scene, yet destined to be haunted by it for life; so that their accounts of the phenome- non were various and somewhat contradic- tory. But the second boy, Theodore, did not take his eye from bis mother’s face. He and. Augustine, the eldest, confirmed each other's statements to the Theodore said that @ slight shud- doctor, and » 28 the smile died away, der seemed to pass over . ae doctor found her to be qaite dead, and afte a course, every precaution ber taken against premature interment, she was buried in her grave, where, let us she rests in peace. It wouk id seem as if that smile pT edhe woman’s revenge, as if she said: “ hrank not to sustain Fis searchtan theta ot cettnites pate a When bigh and heppy: ‘now?”? The next best authenticated story comes from the records of the Franco-Prussian war. It seems that one of the red-cross one of those Me Merricks, tar, Lad: among h 18 @ you! exceedingly haudeome youre felfoe whos nationality she could ot dnd out, He was | and chai Jecture hi in the Prussian uniform, yet not, she thorght, a Prussian. He had been struck Mh # spent ball, they su; and was parai 32d and speechless. ionally he would open his eyes and gaze at her with @ trou. bled expression, and she noticed that the eyes were very beautiful, black, and soft as velvet. In her ministratious she got to un- derstand the language of those poor eyes, | and found out when he was pleased or dis- appointed at what she was doing. One day she took up his coat, and feeling in the pocket she found a letter; she looked at him und the eyes said, ‘Read it.” It gave her the ‘eo the situation, and she derive the ieea t he could hear and understand her if she talked to him, so she wouid sit and talk and ask questious, and he would an- swer with hiseyes. She got at the idea that he was @ young English diplomat, who had been sent down to tect some one; that he had been received into the Prussian army as a favor to facili- tate his work; that he was engaged in this work when he was struck down. She had much to do, this Mercy Merrick with her red cross, but she found time every few hours to come back to her patient and to tell him the story of Saarbruck, of Strasbourg, of Sedan, and to find from the shifting luster in bis eyes if he were pleased or saddened. One day, she took up his watch and chain and examined his seal. The eyes grew painfully bright and anxious; the idea struck her that she would take the impression in wax. She did 80, and found the motto and crest of a well-known English family. Then she sat down and wrote a letter home, for she too was English. The patient lingered and iistened, but never spoke. He grew better, however, and could smile; a singular smile. brilliant, eloquent, and fascinating. It went to the heart of the red-cross nurse. Perhaps she had suffered, @nd loved, and watted, and hoped, and bad known the anguish of hope deferred. The poor paralyzed hand gained Anally a little power, and, one evening, as she took it in her warm, energetic, generous palm. it gave a feeble pressure. Sympathy is a famous physician. He has cured many otherwise morially wounded. But, alas! he was not to cure the young English diplomat. One night, as the red- cross nurse lay down to her well earned sleep, the male atiendant who had care of the par” alyzed Englishman came and knocked at the door. He is dying,” said he, “and his eyes are very wild.” She dressed herself and went to htm. The | unspoken language between these t become a spiritual communication. read his thoughts. Did he wish to have a lock of bis hair cut. and a certain ring on it, were to be returned, when she could find the owner, and bis charge—the work which he had to do when he was stricken dowo—she must find out if it were done, and ifhe was known to have been faithful to the end; yes, she would do it all. And he gave her one wonderful look, a look-which was a caress; one smile, like sunlight; his bright eyes said more gratitude in one glance than lips could say in a month; then came afilmover them and they went out forever. ‘The next day, as the red-croxs nurse stood looking at hisdead face,an English physi- clan arrived. “I am looking for young Estcourt,” said he, “the man of whom you have written to Epgised, the man whoowned this motto and seal.” “There he is,” said she quietly. “Poor fellow, poor fellow; a hard case,” Said the physician. “Did you know his sto- ry? Sent over to protect two emiuent ladies, one a princess. who got eanght in a country house here between the two armies. Russian complications and all that sort of thing. He behaved singularly well, showed enormous lact, courage, and chivalry, too, for one of them fel! desperately in love with him. He was taki: g them toward Berlin, where they wished to go, when he was struck down by & French ball; a party of stragglers surrounded them, set on probably by a cousin of his, who has elways been his foe.” “Did the women escape?” said the red-cross nurse. “Yes; and are full of anxiety to hear of their preserver and friend,” said the doctor. The nurse laid her hand on the dead man’s forehead. “I wish he could have lived to bear it,” raid she. And as she said that, the dead man smiled— that smile which she knew so well—and, strong-hearted woman though she was, she fainted and fell on the floor. When she came to herself the doctor was holding some hartshorn to her nostrils. “It was not tmagination!” said she. “No,” said he, shaking his head, “it was a miracle.” The annals of cholera years, of the plague, of otber epidemic diseases, are full of curious stories of the Supposed dead, and we seem as yet to have fearfully little of that line of de- markation which marks the dead from the living. Those surgeons who go on battle- fields have many curious stories to tell of the phenomena of dead faces, and to those who have only the ordinary gad experience of sorrow there is much that is wonderful about it. The sudden growth of resemblances, as that of a child to one parent or another, sometimes an entire change of face, as if the personality bad been changed; all these Ubings bave struck the observer often. That mask of death called catalepsy pro- duces thetchange also. One young girl, sub- Ject to this mysterious disease, would become so like an intimate friend that all her family were struck by it. They were totally unlike when weil, but as she came out of her fit sae would immediately begin talking of this friend. It seemed as if her own spirit had vacated her body and that of her friend had taken ita place. A young German countess, who had beaut ful hair, died of a lingering disease, and w: buried at her own request with the golden hair lying loosely about her like a vail. A few years afterward, her remains were ex- amined, and the long hair was found to have been caretully braided as German girls braid their hair, and, wnat was still more inex- plicable, the ends were tied with some blue satin ribbon, which her sister remembered had been attached to some garlands which lay on the coffin. The German, Leutz, had either seen this braided hair or had heard of it In the town where it occurred, and had been deeply impressed by it. The only con. been, of course, that the poor girl was buried alive, but that was hardly pos- sible, for the features were ina singular state of preservation and very composed, the hands folded on the breast, and the shroud in perfectorder. Nor would a woman braid her hair (an act calling for great composure) if she found herself buried alive. Being Ger- man bair, it probably braided itself. Another phenomenon, more easily ex- plained by physical reasons, is the fact that ber leper —— — Aree eeeent but robably has happened within the experience tr most physicians, that color comes back to lip and cheek for a few hours, even after the pallor of death had asserted itself. It is said to have occurred in the case of Philip Le Bel, who poor crazy Joanna carried about so long, and adored so hopelessly; perhaps it Was one reason why she could not believe him dead. Of course, this has found its way into poetry, and there is an old story of Provence in the dialect, dating back a3 far as Clemence Isaure and the golden violet, of @ young girl’s corpse blushing when her lover entered the room. But the saddest of all the phenomena is the Most common one—the marble rigidity, the mask of death. Nothing can so stun the senses or chill the heart as that; but the sub- ject demands attention as one of those, un- usually repellent it is true, but like the phil- osophy of dreams, not famioently andec- stood. Though intimately connec! with our a. developed Se both as intellectual and physical machines, whose springs are hidden, whose abnormal devel- opements—as inthe strength which fever gives, or the sharpened power of ear or eye under the influence of strong nervous excite- ment, the power of going without food when disease sup} the frame—all show re- markable reserve of forces not suspected in health; and the more curious and not 80 well-defined extraneous powers of the mird—variously designated as mag- netism, clairvoyance, and the like—all point to the fact that the animal we call man is a very mysterious and as yet imperfectly com- ee ended thing. and that we have yet to ind out a great deal about our own human nature—both when it lives, which is the greatest of miracle, and when it dies, which 18 & lesser one. —EE——EE Too Romantic BY HatF.—A Sonth Glen’s Falls pe! lady entered into corre- Spondence with a Chicago gentleman some ree years ago, he having obtained her ad- ®& mutual friend. Epistles brought: affection, and a marriage was arranged, nelther party having ever beheld the loved one. family fell into m! inst. says that a maker, of Council Bluffs, who for the eight years has taken an early bath, Yes, for her, his watch | ‘The Housekeeper. CONDUCTED BY A LaDY. To MAKE CHICKEN CRoqusTTES.—A lady asks us for a good receipt for making chica- en croquettes, and to oblige her and perhaps others we reprint the foilowing from ished yy ee ago by a correspondent residing in town, as | the very best we know, the product being for all the crowned heads of Earope. It is trae that, ifnot so complica: ted or good a croquetie is desired, sweet- | bread, &c., could be omitted. Our correspon- dent says: §Boila sweetbread for three min utes, put it into cold water and after an bour take outand drain. Boil a calfs brain for five minutes and set aside to cool. Boil also half a pint of cream, with the same measure of fresh bread crumbs, sifted clean of lum) and crust. Cut off from the chickens all brown meat and reserve for use either to fricasee, to stew with giblets, or when boiled and mixed with an equal bulk of roasted veal, to make into breakfast croquettes. Boil the chickens till tender, in just enough water to cover them. When the broth is cold, skim off all the grease, pour off the clear portion and boil it down to balf a pint. Remove the skin, fatand tendons and chop the white meat as finely as possible, with the Sweetbread and brain, first adding a table- spoonful of chopped parsley, the grated rind and the juice of a large lemon, one heapin; teaspoonful of salt and half a teas; ofa’ each of powdered mustard, mace and white pepper. Cut fine two shalotes or one smail onion, fry with four ounces of butter, add a tablespoonful of flour and stir till smooth; | transfer it quickly toa saucepan, aid the | chopped meat, stir briskly, and as’ soon as hot add the yoiks of four fresb-laid eggs, re- move from the fire and when cool enough te handle bruise in a chopping-bowl to a paste | Then spread on a dish and put into the jcr- box to harden and stiffen. After two or | three hours mix thoroughly and mould as follows: Sprinkle a moulding board with Sifted cracker-dust, take a heaping tanie spoonful of the meat paste and form the cro- | Quette in the shape either of a small sagar. | loafor a roll. When all are done dip them | one by one Into well-beaten ees, roll in flne- ly sifted bread- crumbs; after an hour dip and Toll again and set tt In the ice-box till want ed. Lastly fry in enough hot lard to tloat them in # golden brown color, turning care- fully while cooking to keep them shapely; serveon a napkin with sprays of parsley anid watercress. Very acceptable eroquettes are made by using ail the meat of the fowl: in that case a single ehicken weighing six pounds will be required; but when the white meat only is used they are much more deli- | cate. This receipt will make abont one and a halt | dozen croquettes, which will cost, with chickens at 25 cents a pound, and deducting the valueof the brown meat, about one dol- | lar aud a balf per dozen. | , RENDERING Largp ror FAMILY Usk —It | should be remembered in the first place that the melting of iard preserves it, without | using salt or anything else. There is nothing better for melting it than a cast-iron pan, but great care should be taken that the fire applied is uniform and no part of the lard | Scorches. The fire should be fitted to the pan, | or the pan to the fire, and the heat should be | as nearly uniform as possible. Let the lard | be cut in small pieces and use a slow fire, and | the boiling should never exceed a siminer, and the stirring must be continued until the | whole has melted. When this is done the lard | is strained through a sieve to catch any sedi- | ment there may be, eare being taken not to | disturb the sediment. This sediment, which is about two-thirds lard ant one-third ski:s aad jelly, should be boiled very slowly in a smailer pan for the purpose of converting the most of it into fig lard. Que great point is to prevent the lard from scorching, and this ean be done safely only by constant stirring. A FEW SEASONAEBLE RECEIP Bologna Sausages.—This is the way them :— Take equal quantities of ba fat and lean, beet, veal, pork, and beef suet; chop them small, season with pepper, salt, &e , Sweet herbs and rndbed fine. Have @ well-cleansed and hed intestine, fll and prick it, boil gently for an hour and lay on straw to dry. They may be smoked the same as hams. Mince-Mea’.—Take four pounds currants, well picked and cleaned, for they require tuis to be done carefully; three pounds raisins, Stone and chopped; of finely-chopped beef suiet, the lean of a@ sirloin of beef minced raw, and finely-chopped apples of a solid variety, each three and a balf pounds; of citron, lemon-peel and orange-peel each a | half pound; fine white sugar two pounds; mixed spices an ounce; mix well and put in adeep pan. Mix brandy and wai ne to | Suite the taste, also the juice of four lemons and four oranges; pour half over the mass in | the basin, press down tight with the hands, then add the other half and cover closely. Use as you may desire through the winter. A First-Class Pwtding.—Oue pint of bread- crumbs to one quart of milk, one eup of sugar, the yolks of four eggs, beaten, the | rated rind of a lemon, @ piece of butter the size of an egg. Bake until done, but not watery. Whip the whites of the eggs stiff, and beat In a teacupful of sugar in which has been stirred the juice of the lemon. Spread over the pudding a layer of jelly or any Sweetmeats you prefer. Pour the whites of the eggs over this and replace in the oven and bake lightly. To be eaten with cold cream. It is second to ice cream, aud for some Seasons better. Pulling —1f A_ Plain Christmas Plum rig en Boar) present a better receipt than this, I should be happy to see it, and will uy it:—Take a pound of bread, break it small, and soak in @ quart of milk; when soft, mash the bread, and mix with it three large spoon- fuls of flour, previously mixed with a cup of milk; and half a pound of brown sugar, a wineglass of wine, one of brandy, a teaspoon. ful of salt, the same of pulverized mace and cinnamon, or 2 rind of a lemon grated. The whole should be well stirred together with a quarter pound of chop; suet or meltet butter. Add ten eggs well beaten, one pound of Zante currants, the same of seeded raisins. Boil it ina bag made of thick cotton cioth, and before filling it should be wrung out of hot water and floured inside. It must not be entirely filled with the pudding, as it will Swell when boiling. Place an old plate at the bottom of the pot in which you boil the pudding, to ag oe bag from sticking to it and burning. t the water boil when you put the pudding in, and ina few minites turn the bag over. There should be water enough to cover the bagall the time it is boiling. When you wish to turn out the pu ding, immerse the bag in cold water a min- ute, and it will easily ae out. This pud- ding will require three or four hours to boll thoroughly. It may not be amiss, perhaps, to say Uthat this, though a Curistmas pud- ding, may be made and eaten during any Ume of the year.—Germantown Telegraph. Cribbing Corn with Safety. The cold, damp. weather whieh has pre- vaiied for the most part, during the months of September and October, has prevented the corn from drying out, as it usually does during this season of the year, and much of it will now remain in a soft condition throughout the winter. case, farmers are apt to delay the husiing, hoping the eorn will become sufficiently dry, so that it may be putin the crib without danger of heating. Wedoubt whether this is good policy, for when the soft ear becomes frozen the texture of the gain becomes so disintegrated that it spoils by souring be- fore it will dry. Under ordinary circumstances, after about October 20, there willbe but little to be gained by postponing tbe corn husking. It is better todevise some plan for assorting the corn by making adivision tn the wagon box by a@ partition which gy oo lifted out to facilitate the unloading. Make the size of the space on each side of the division board to correspond with the quantities of the good and poor corn. The soft corn may be fed to stock with good results. In fact, when it is so nearly matured as is generally the case the present year, it will make pork or beef quite as rap- idly, and that ofas good qualities as hard corn, though it will requirea little more of it to secure the same results, The good corn may be put into an open crib. none better. rail pen. chance to put intoa close bin. The rain at should be excluded by a board coy- ering, which can be put on or removed easi- ly.while the pens are being filled. ‘We think it better, under most cireum- to husk the assortin, tion in the rib, rather than to take the risk of havingit buried up iu the snows of winter, and wanted in various ways. In this thesoftcorn apes cage mediate y spoiled, When this is the | DRY GooDs. L°e* 42 fits & New York Shirt ‘We bave taken the agewcy ufacturer, and can sella WHITE LISES-BOSOM SHIRT, except lsundrying. st $1.50 each. six ina box, three iy made Bow sold same 5 Fiscal, coemine thier betere porchasing elsewhere Also, DRESS GOODS, CASSIMERES, BLAN. | KETS, and every Kind of DRY GOODS at lowest auction prices. GEO. 3. JOHNSON 4 CO., | Gecd-eoly 711 MARKET SPACE Wosprrrc. BARGAINS IN DRY GoopDs. CARTERS, 707 MARKET SPACE. Kiuickerboce or Suitings, 33 or x lpmense ‘sesortment of Pain Droes Goods. Comel's Hair. 35. French Cashmere, all wool, in Seal Te. ore Aasortment Black Drees Goode. All wool Black » 8. worth TS perxtremels WF ine, Black Alpsca, 37%; and Pare FB: wi Bleck Silks, $1.25, @1.50, @1.75, €2.00, Good Double Blankets, 63 wn, very Ove yard and e half wide Blsck Waterproof, 78. | Two yards and @ balf wide Sheeting, 2. | Good Canton Flannel, 8. fit uenstannsstt Vers best ‘alice and Nery best Cotton, yard Wide. 10, in remnants, ¢ yards and 5 yards BNO GOODS SOLD Y OBEDIT Gecd-tr [Os THE GREATEST BARGAINS In all kinds of DRY GOOD Visit WYLIE’S POPULAR ONE PRICE STOKE, No. 1014 7th street northwest BF-Agorcy for Demorest’s Rete ms, WM. BIRD WYLik, _deot-tf .ate Rogan & Wylie.) NEW GOODs AT REDUCED PRICES Owing to the unprecedented dullness in commer- clal circtes in New York city, we have been « a to purchase some KARE BAUGAIN and DOMESTIO DRY GooBs, sieht advance en the original cost ich Soow fake aud Knickerbocker Suitings, beautiful Piaids, in all qualities, from 20 cents t Pisin Dress Goods, from Biack Alpacas and Mol fara: Black Silks, “(ine 84 t0per yard: Seal Brows Siikiat Sian r yard: Seal Brown Silk, at $1.50 pe Worth $2; Black Cashmeres, original French very cheap; Beaver Oloth for ladies’ sacques at re duced prices; Androscogein (yard wide) Bleached Cotton, 10 cents; Silk Faced Velvet, $2 to $6 per yard: inch All Silk Vel et, giz per yard. ia | Breaily reduced price.) Tarker Rel Table Dasekt cents and up; 3-button Paris Kids, in all calors, $1.38: & most complete | Ladies’ aud Gents’ nderwear. of the very best makes and styles, direct from the matofacturers, at wholesale Brice Woot | Jen Blankets. from $3 th 925 por pairs Modsproats, | $1 to QS; Boulevard Skirts, @1 and upwards ; Hose From 10. ce per pair with a complete mestic Dry Good are first-class, and cxamine novldtr 939 Penn | QPEN THIS Day FROM AUCTION, NEW DRESS GoOoDs, INCLEDING BLACK SILKS, CASHMERES, ALPACAS, CHOICE PLAIDS, IN CAMELS HAIR; NAVY BLUE, BROWNS AND LONDON SMOKE FROM AUCTION AT GREAT REDUCTION, PRINTS, WOOLENS AND COTTONS at great discount from usual prices. ‘i = PAIBS WOOL BLANEETS at positive bar- gains. HOSIERY AND UNDERWEAR for Ladies, Gents and Child from A ‘and ye ren purchased action J. C, WISWALL & ©O., 310 SEVENTH STEEBT, Near Pennsylvania avenue. - BANKERS. TO 86.000 invested in Btook Privileges bt de Ma aie oe SENT FREER. JOHN eee 00., oct?-ly 72 Broadway, N.¥. N4TIONAL SAFE DEPosir co., Corner ith st. and New York avenus FIRE AND BURGLAB-PROOF VAULTS. All kinds of valuables taken on deposit. Safestor tent Office hours, 98. m. to 4p. m. novi8-tr F ers and Brokers, 12 W: NGHAM & OO., Bank- N.Y. novis-th.ts.tr INFELICE. was mag a new novel by Angu author of— Beulah —St. Elmo,— Vann —el last and best beok ever written by this popular ai thor, and one of the finest fictions in tne English language, very one must read it, Sold every- where, G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, oct20-m.w {2m NEW YORK ‘ ‘OOD FOR HORSES AND GPRDON'S Foon ste. THE ,GREAT ECONOMICAL FOOD FOR STUCK. Reduces cost of tee@ing one fourth. Secures good Sppetite, perfect digestion, clean skin, zlossy coat, bright eyes, health, long lite, aud huretofore un- known vigor. neipal horse railroads in Philadel I by phis, Now York eed Pittsburg, aud by all who Value beauty and bealth in their Horses, GERALD GORDON & CO., Patentees and Manufactarers, Cc. P. LAURENSON 4 co, Agents for District of Colambia and Fairfax County, Virginia. 2—No. 920 Lo: venue !Washti . no No. 9 uisiana svenu ron — QUB stocK or PARLOR GRATES Is not equaled by any south of Philadelphia, and Seti eceeas GAS LOGS, for use with Nickel Grates, ANDIBONS, BLOWER STANDS, And FIRE SETS, which we offer at less than the manufacturers’ New *Sibe FESDERS of all cecription made to "s “Good mecore BASE BUBNEB. Barte's FIRE EATERS Porte S7-HOUSE PLUMBING, in all its details. HAYWARD & HUTCHINSON, nov2)-tr 317 9h street northw BABeains 1m BOOTS AND SHOES. i 5, SH. o3o—etcaccser, Lota ann Ei xsktss Breakfast ‘ o Ex Rae ertin ‘berg. 7 CO—Baltimore a: 3.1s—t-avtot Backs and Wer Sees 7 18k prea ‘Mears only to me , % Winchester, Harper's oot: agerstown Way Stations, to etroporitue Branch . we PRBS 00-58 one Cl ute and 243- Eee hee 27ames. Wo stops = Baltimore, Freder) «asses Se pe comes nae [ ay rr % apd er one = Metropolitan Bi TMORE Exruuse Bi o legs: copurcts at Relay tor Fregerick and Wap stations Nicut Exrx ing ore. prine pal Way Stations pou Fast so amd 9:35 p.m. datiy. a ™ ly, eon »_ daily. excopt Sunday. ne conection ‘on Sunday for Hagerstown, nton or Valley Br for ‘New reap oo neylvania avenue, takew tor bageage to be che: point in the city LM Gh oniers w nd and recet ved at any THOS. R SHARP. Master of Transportation. COLR. General Ticket Agent 8. KOONTZ. Generel Agent. novi-tf On NEW VORK AND Wasm N cn Line ADELPHIA TO BALTIMORE, PRI . NeW YORK. BOSTON, ale A Tak NEW BNGLAND THROUGH BETWEEN WASHINGTON aND FEY, Foes CHA NGS OF CARS. © this line t* gew aud of the most 1S PULL LUSIVEL PULLMAN PAL4CE SLERPING CAKS ON NIGHT TRAINS After December Ith. ISS, trains by this leave depot of Balttmore and Potomae + corner of 6rh and B as followe Limited for Phitadolpt POINTS iN On and will Hladelpnia, Now York Hy CABS on all Day Traine. PLLEMAN PALACE SLEEPING CAMS on Sight Trains Tickets and information can be procured at the of fices of the company Bnegage culled for and checked at hotels and _pri- rate residences on orders left at the offices of the mpany, northeast corner 1h street aud Penusyt- i. jon northeast corner of Peunayl- 4 6th etree r SALTIMOKE AND POTOMAO BAIL- BOAD, corner 6th and B streets. General Posner, LY fei BGK O. Wi Suyerintendent, Baltimore, Ma. BAREINORES FeTOMas Raupean, fr wil con day, December Lh, 1878, trains TAAINS LEAVE FOK BALTIMORE. 2.0. Limited Express, daily tor the West; 9° Snily except Bentny faxes Maree 710 0m omar: S.ton tor Poy pe's rock. 740 _— Press for Baltimore, daily exce>t jude) eo: Limited BE for New York, suber Fi Sanday rarer Oar Tree ee ast Line West and North, daily exoept fs Express for Philadelphia and New = 4 Norfolk via Baltimore, daily jandey. a h.. Accomm sae daily except Sanday. 1:13 pm. Baltimore end Philadelphia Express, 0 -, Limited Bx, from New York, daily « son! press 7 6:23 pm Express, dally except 5 $3 Ske mein eoenee will be given at . “LgTSs procuring tickets st these offices can sorsre ectomatsdenionntn Paipce Care for Chicago, ‘and % Pitteb: Be ‘een ochester SS. BOYD, Ja. iy G hs 47 p.m. from Alexandria s = ibs dully except —_ COAL AND WOOD. HUGH J. FeGAN, WOOD AND COAL DEALER, Corner 6:1. and E streets southwest. Order Biste st V.O. BEBBY'S Stove Store, and E streets wort hwest. Gocks Gt" T. EDW. ©LABK. T. B. OBOSS, Ja. A — ¥. EDW. CLARK & CO,, DEALERS IN LUMBER, WOOD, COAL, DOORS, SASH BLINDS, MOULDINGS, $e. Cee