Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, February 4, 1894, Page 11

T FAT MAN, Sam Walter Foar { Let mo have men about me that are fat | ulius Cassar, Act 1, Szeno IL Tsing iho gat mun: and I deeri A Tt Worth Is gauged by his rotundity Vroportionuto to his girth The i, darling of the fates, Who, In sefene repose Dovs inture’s stores And turn to adij Whio frou the boundiess univorse, As A tight 10 (o, Abse corporosity Commensurate theroto imilato “Lot e ha Grent Civsar And Jul ke 1y croed, though cynies o Wit mueh thereat, No man cun be entirely good Till e is falrly fat No sour cynic [s this man, No misinthropie churl And s wide, manly hosom bears The Hght heart of o girl Of nature's Lounty he partakes Witi geatitudv and zost, And in her pantey is no food Tt e eitnnof digest Who from the boundless universe, As b right to do, Aborbs i corporosity Commensurate thereto. THE SCHOOL TEACHER'S STORY. Mary E. Wilking in Romance. T have tanght school forty-four years. Now I have delivered the keys of my gchool house to the committee, I hav packed away on the top shelf of my closet a row of primers and readers, geographies, spelling books and arith- metics, and I have stopped work for the rest of my life. Through all these forty-four years 1 havo squeezed re lutely all the sweets out of and stored them up to make a kind of tasteless, but life-sustaining honey for old age. I have never spent one penny unless for the barest nccessaries. 1 have added term by term to the sum on my bank book, until I ha been able to build this house, and have a sufficient gum at interest to live upon. I need lit- tle, very little, to eat, and I wear my ciothes carefully and long. b I was never extravagant in clothes but once. That wids twenty-five years ago. when I was 33, and_expected 10 be married in the spring. I had a green #ilk dress then—a bright green. But 1 had it dyed black, and, after all, got considerable wear out of it, although it was flimsy. Colored silk is apt to be 1had a blue woollen, too, a colorl shouid never have bought if I b not expected to be married, and that faded. I also had ablack velvet cloak, some- thing that was very costly, and I should not have bought it under any circum- stanc but 1 was foolish. However, s made my winter bonnets ever t was a ood piece and not cut up existence much. Looking backward forty-four years i cannot remember any other extravagance than this outlay in clothes when T expected to be married at 35, I never have bought any candy, except a few cough drops when I had a cold. T have never bought a rivbon even, or a breast- pin. I have always worn my mother's old hairpin, although 1t was so old-fash- joned, and the other girls had pretty gold and coral, or cameo ones. My mother died when I was 14; my father when 1 was 16: then I began to teach. My father left me nothing. Mother was sick all her life, nearly, and he could not lay up a cent. However, there was enough to pay his funeral ex penses, and I was thankful for that. I kometimes wonder what my father would say if he could see me now, and know how 1 am situated. T wonder if he would think I had done pretty well. I don't know how it can make nnf’ difference to hivn pow; he is past all such earthly vanities, even if he knows about them, but [ do sometir feel glad I have done 0 well, on his account. ~Anybody has to have some account beside their own, even if it is somebody's that's dead. 1 have built this house, with six rooms in it, and a woodshed. | have a little land, too. I keep hensand I am going to have a vegelable garden baclk of the house, and a flower garden, front. I have good weellen carpets all over the house, except the kitchen. Ihavestuffed parlor furniture, and a marble-topped 1uble, and ®n marble top shelf with a worked plush scarf ¢n it. 1 have a handsome dining set, and two nice chamber sets, and two beautiful silk quilts I pieced from bits my scholars gave me. I shouldn't be ashamed to have anybody go over my house. And [ keep it nice, too; you could not find a speck of dust anywhere. Of course, I have nobody to put it out of ovder, and that makes a difference. It has always been my habit to look at all the ad- vantage there is in lifoe and I have found there 1s an advantage side to everything. I can keep my house a -great deal nicer than I could if I were not alone in the world. I sometimes wonder what I should do if T had a man coming in with muddy boots, or children trucking in dirt and stubbing out my carpets or kicking the paint off my new doors, To the trath, T never cared much about ohil- dren, though I have been teaching them forty-four years. I never dared to say 80 before, but it is true. Oncein awhile 1 saw a child that I thought a good aeal of, but taking them all together, I have often wondered how their own mothers could stand them. I would have worked my fingers to the bone for the fow I did take a notion to. I fairly grudged them to their folks, but the others!—and [ had to hide it, too; it wouldn't bave done for the children to think 1 was par- tial. They had all the meanness of grown-up folks, without knowing enough to hide it. Grabbing each other's apple- cores, and toasing away ecach other's candy, and tho big ones plaguing the lit- tle ones; throwing paper balls, and marking up the walls, and . everything else. 1 know, for one, that there'ssome- thing in the doctrine of original sin. I guess most women that have taught a distriet school forty-four years do. I have never been sure, either, that they learned anything so as to remembeor it, and have it do them any good. I have wlways been afraid that, no matter how hard I tried to do my duty to them, it was never quite done, and that I was teaching myself more than anybody else, just as I always seemed to hit my own hands harder than a scholar’s when I hadto ferule one. I could travel all over the earth, on a map, and never once lose my way, but wonder if my scholars could. I can spell through the spelling book without missing a word, but I know that not one of my scholars can do it. I can do every sum in the arithmetic,measure the depth of all the wells, calculate the speed of all the dogs and foxes, and say the mul- tiplication tables by heart, but Iam quite sure that no boy or girl ever left my school who could. It seems to me sometimes that I bave gone to school to my scholurs, instead of my scholars go- ing to school to me, and that I have never been of any benefit to any one of them, Still, I have sometimes thought that [ was, once, and in u strange way, to the strangest scholar 1 ever had. Before tell i while I saw thinking even of this scholar, aud this T { story, T have to review my face, and my whole character, in my mental vision,as before u glass, to establish, as it were, my own reliability to myself. Is it likely that anybody, who looks like that, should tell herself that she saw she did not see, or heard what she did not hear? Is it likely that anybody, who is like that, should? But, after all, I was never given to say ing things that weren't plain common sense, Still, it has always kind of seemed to me. when I thought of that fime in Marshbrook, that it didn't ring like any known metal. But there may be some metals that really are on earth, though they are not known, I suppose, and any- body might hear them ring, and be hon- est enough about it It was just twenty-five years ago today that I went to Marshbrook to teach the No. 1 district school. It was right in the middle of the springtime. I had given up my old school, because I was expecting to be married that May. But when I fouad out he'd changed his mind toward me I felt as if I had ought to go to work again. I'd laid out a good deal of money on my clothes, and 1 knew I'd have to make it up gome way, as long as I was always going to have nobody but mysell to depend on, the way I always had. Maria Rogers had my old school. She had come from the east village to teach it, when I'gave itup,and it wasn't more'n three weeks before he began to go with her. She was good looking, always smiling. though it always seemed to me it was a kind of silly smile. I was al- ways sober and set-lookin nd I couldn’t smile even 1t like it. Her hair curled, too. vied to curl mine, but it wouldn’t look like hers, I wouldn't believe it at first when folks came gnd told me he was going with her, and they thought I ought to know: but after a cnough to satisfy me. my- self. T wrote him a letter, and told nim I'd found out he had changed his mind, and he had my best wishes for his wel- fave and prosperity, and then I began to look cut for another school. He didn't marry Maria Rogers till the spring term was through, She wanted the money for her wedding clothes. She was a poor girl, or 1 could have had my old school. As it was, she had him, and my school, too, It don't know as I should ha got any till fall, if the teacher at the No, 1 district in Marsh- brook hadn't left sudden. One of the committee came for me the next day and said 1'd got to go there whether or no. Iasked why the other teacher had left, and he raid she wasn't very well— “kind of hysteriky,” he called it. He was an old man and a doctor. 1 looked him straight in the face when he spoke, and I knew there was something behind what he said, and he knew T did. “Pll give you 50 cents a week more, secing as you come to oblige,” says he. “Very well,” says . T knew what it all meant. I had heard about district No. 1 in Marshbrook ever since I could remember. They never could keep a teacher there through the spring term. There wasn't any trouble fall and win- ter, but the teacher would leave in the spring term. They always tried to hush it up, and nobody ever knew ex- actly what they left for. I rather gues they bound the teachers ove not” to tell—m paid them a little extra. nywa nobody ever knew exactly what it was, but it got whispered ‘round there was some- thing wrong about the No. 1 school house. Nobody but a stranger or somebody that was along in and pretty courageous could be hirved,to go there and teach the spring term. The chances were that old Dr. Emmons couldn’t get another soul besides me for love or money, and if 1 wouldn’t go the school would have to be shut up till fall. But 1 didn’t care anything about the stories. I never was one of the kind that listen, and hark, and screech, and 1 had had enough real things to think and worry about. Then I had a kind of feeling then—I suppose it was wicked—that it didn't matter much what happened any- way, after what had happened. S0 T just packed up my trunk, while Dr. mmons waited, and then he put it in behind in his wagon and carried me over to Marshbrook. It was about six miles away. Marshbrook was named after the brook there, that runs through marshy land, and gets soaked up in it somo seasons of the year. That spring it was quite high and the land all around it was yellow as gold with cowslips, We rode beside it quite a ways and the doc- tor said his wife had hoiled cowslip greens twice. He talked considerable about such things being better for folks to eat than meat, too, He didn't say a word about the school till he set me down at the house where I was going to board. Then he%aid [ looked as if I wasn't fidgety, and he hadn't any notion but whatI should get aleng well and like the school. Then he eaid, kind a if he hated to, but thought he'd better that he gnessed I might just as well make up my_ mind not to stay after school at night much and not to ke the scholar: The school honse wa: a rather lonesome place and some strag- glers might come along. Then, too, it was rather damp there, boing near the brook, after the dew fell, and he didn't think it was very health [ said, “Very well.” Then Mr. Orrin Simonds, the man where I was going to board, came out, and they carried my trunk betwixt them into the house. I began school the next morning, and got along well enough. The school was quite a large one, about forty in it, and none of them very old. They vehaved well as usual, and 1 taught them the best 1 knew how. T ought to have done better by them than I had ever done for other scholars, for I hadn't any lookout for myself to take my mind off. 1 sup- pose I always had had a little, though I had hardly known it myself, avd Iought to have been ashamed of it. I did not stay after school for some two weeks, not because I was afraid of anything, for I wasn't, but I hadn't any call to. 1didn't mind what Dr. Emmon had said at all, as far as I was con cerned, but I thought I wouldn't keep the scholars anyway, so if anything did come up [ wouldn't be blamed on their accounts. There wasn't anybody to blame me on mine, if I dido’t give up the school—and I wasn't going to do ybe | that, anyway. I went to meeting the Sunday after I went to Marshbrook. I ~ suppose some folks thought I ewould get somebody to carry me home from seeing as it was only six miles, and I belonged to the church there, but I felt as if 1 had just as soon see some new faces. Maria Rogers used tosit right in front of me at home, I noticed that folks in the mceting house at Marshbrook eyed me some. | don’t know whether it was because I had come to teach the No. 1 school, or be- cause I wore my green silk. I suppose it did look 'most too fine, but I had it, and it was a pleasant Sunday, and 1 thought [ might just as well wear it, though somehow, every time I looked down at my lap as I sat in meeting, thero was something about the color seemed to strike over me and wake me sick. 1 never liked green very well, but he did, and that was why I gotit. I liked it better after it was colored, though it seemed a shame to have all the stilfening taken out of it. It was & beautiful piece. 1 bad a good boarding place, just Mr, what | wife, and and a | Simonds and his | neat as wax She was good eook., kind of woodeny, and didn’t talk much, but | didn’t feel much like talking, and I liked it full as well. She used supper early, about as soon home from school, and then I used to go upstairs to my chamber and sit by my- self. Mrs. Simonds didn't neighbor much, she said, but I guess after I came folks run in mor I'd near them talk- ing down stairs, 1 guess they wanted to find out how I was getting along at the Number One school. Once Mrs, Simonds sai f she was in my place, sho'd make her plans not to stay after school. She didn’t seem any more fidgety hersell than a wooden post, but I gness she'd heard much from the neighbors she thought she ought to say something. I said I hadn't had any oc ion to stay after school, and [ hadn't. [ didn't v ally have any occasion the night I did stay, but I felt kind of down at the heel, and T didn't want any supper, and [ just sat there on the platform behind m desk after the scholars marched out of the room. I don't know how quite a while, I suppose, to grow duskye 'The fr as if they were in the room and there was a damp wind blowing in the window, and I could smell wintergreen and swamp pink It was all T conld do to keep the children from chewing winte n lo in schoou time. ‘They were real thick all avound the school house, All of a sudden, as i sat there, [ had a queer feeling as if there was somebody in the room, and [ looked up. [ saw, down in the middle of the room, a litt white arm raised in the dusk. It w the way the children did when they wanted to ask something, and I thought for a second that one had stayed or come back unbeknown to me, and was raising an arm. Of course, that was queer, but it was the only reason I could think of, and it flashed through my head. “*‘What is it?" says 1, and then alittle girl's voice pipe u teacher, find my doll for m. my neqt lesson in the primer What?" says I, for it didn’t seem tome I couid have heard right. And then the voice said it over again, and that little white arm crooked out of tte gloom. I got up and went down the aisle be- tween the desks, and when I came close enough I saw a little girl in a queer, straight white dress, ulimost like a night gown, sitting there. Her little face was 50 white in the gloom it and her features locked set: mouth didn’t move when she spoke. was open a little and the words j seemed to flow out between hev lip: “Please, teacher, find my doll for me and hear my next lesson in the primer,” says she over again, dreadful pitiful. I put my hand on her shoulder and then I jumped aud took it away, for [ never felt anything so cold as her little shoulder was. It seemed as if the cold struck to my heart from it and [ had to catch my breath. “What is your name?" says I as soon I could. “*Mary Williams. aged six years, three months and five days,” says she. Then my blood ran cold, but 1 tried to reason it out to myself again that she was some child [ hadn’t seen that had run in there, and maybe she wasnt quite vight in her mind. *Well,” says I, ‘“you had better run home now. If you want to come to school you can come at 9 o'clock tomor- row morning, if your mother is willing. Then I will hear your lesson and maybe you will find your doll, but you musn't bring it to school. I can't have any dolls bronght to school.” With thatshe rose up and dropped a queer little curtsey that made a puff of icy cold wind in my face, and was out of the room, very fast, as if she slid or floated, without taking any steps at all. I put on my bonnet and locked up the school house and went home then. Looking back [ can’t say as I felt scared or nervous at all. I knew I didn’t walk a mite faster when I went past the old graveyard. There was an ola graveyard near the school house, and the children used to play there at rece: When I got home M monds asked why I hadn't been home and if I didn't want any supper, but she didn’t act sur- prised nor curious. She never seemed wprised or eurious at anything. 1 went upstaivs to my chamber, and sat down and thought it over. It seemed to me there must be some above-board reason for it. As I thought it over, I remembered that there had been a strange, faint, choking smell about the c¢hild, and then I put my own dress-skirt up to my face, and [ smelled it then. [ hung my dress out of the window to air when I took it off. ‘The next morning, when the scholars filed in to school. 1 tried to think that strange littie girl might be among them, but she wasn't, and she didn't come in the afternoon. That night I staved I had made up my mind I would. [ waited, and after a while that little white arm showed out of the dusk, but [ had not seen the child come into the room. I asked her again what she wanted, and she piped up, just as she did before “Please, teacher, find my doll for me, and hear me say the next lesson in the primer. I got up and went to her just as I had before, and there she was just the same, and the faint smell came in my face. “Where did you lose your dol says | But she wouldn't say. “Please, teacher, find my doll for me and hear me say my lesson in the primer,” says she, with a kind of a wail. 1 never heard anything so pitiful as it was. [t seemed to me, somehow, as if all the wants I had ever had myself sounded in that child’s voice, and asif she was begging for something 1 had lost myself. But I spoke decided. my way with worked bette iong T sat there for it began g8 peeped I heard ‘Please, nd hear after school again. Tt was alwa children. [ found it “Now you run home.” says I, “‘and you ¢come tomor and I'll give you your doll and hear your lesson in the primer.” And then she rcse up and curtsied, just as she had before, and was gone. did not try to follow her. That eveniug I went around to old Dr. Emmons and asked Mrs. Emmons if 1 could see the doctor a few minutes I guess she suspected what had hap- peued, for she looked at me real sharp and suid she hoped I wasn't getting nervous, and overwrought with school teaching. 1said I wasn't, 1 just wanted to see the doctor about a new scholar: and she left me in the sitting room and called him in, I askea him, point-blank, if anything had anything had ever happened there in Marshbrook, and he wouldn't tell me at fivst, *'1 supnose you want to give the school up. I thought you were old enough to behave yourself,” says he. He was pretty shiort sometimes, but ho meant done the best I could by the " saye 1. *Why couldn't you come home when school was done, as you was told to, in- steud of staying there in that lonesome some pluce and getting hystericky?” says he. I don't know as I can get another teacher this term. The school bouse will have to be shut up. It's a pity all the female school teachers in she was as | to have | as I got | HE _OMAHA DAILY BEE SUNDAY. FEBRUARY 4, 1891 SIXTEEN PAGES. A Profitable Inducement to You! Vould you invest one dollar, if you were certain to receive two dollars in return ? *> We'll not mince words about our offer—we neced room for our Spring stock, which is on the way—in fact several cases are here now. We're unable to make room, unless we dispos only one way to do this quickly; and that is —— . We've decided to give our stock of Winter Woolens away ! —without profit—that is—we'll make them up, with our usual good care at the actual COSt O How can we do it? I's a novel way we have of winning new friends,; besides,we clean up all the odd lengths that accumul te during season's trade— a busy —1t pays us to do it— materials and Another reason s of the bulk of our heavy weight stock! There's workmanship — We'll keep our tailors busy, until spring affc them you'll save it/ ITardly any need quoting prices, You've paid twice this amount tor garments of equal quality ! Suiting ! Is it necessary to urge you to be order? prompt go first— We mail samples. No goods charged to anyone. trade cpens vp! We can't d lo lel them go—iwe'll need 7y soonl It's necessary to see the goods to appreciate them, Trousering! in placing your The best styles always veoll TAILOR Tl got and get the fidgets out of them. I've hiad a man for the place next time. enough of women, *I don’t want to give up the school,” says L “What are you tal says he. I want to know if anything has ever happened here in Mavshbrook,” says I. S don't want to' give up the school if anything has happened.” He finally told mo how a little girl had been murdered, some fifty or y ing about then?” years ago, on her way to school, on the | They found her laying : [, 0P o'y 04 the key of the tomb, and brook road. dead beside a clump of swamp pinks, with a great bruise on the back of her neck, as if she'd been hit by a stone, and her doll and her primer were laying in the road, where she'd dropped them when she run from whoever killed her. They never found him. Was her name Mary s 1. Tow did you know it?” say Williams?” the doc- says I. turned as white as a ‘‘She told me. The old doct sheet. You ain't hystericky,” says he. When he found out that I wasa't scared, and didn't want to give up the school, he wanted to know what I'd secn, and asked a gosl many questions, I told him as short as I could and then I went home. s The next morning before school T got some linen rags from Mrs. Simonds, and a piece of bright blue thibet, and I made a real pretty rag baby. I'd never made one before, but 1 couldn’t see why I didn’t make it as well as anybody. I ravelled out a little of an old black stocking I had for its hair, and I col- ored its cheeks and mouth with cran- berry juice, and made its eyes with blue ink.” I found, too, un old primer, that Mrs. Simonds said her mother had studied, for I thought that might have been like the one the child was carrying to school when she was killed. That night I stayed after school again, and waited until I saw the little white arm raised out of the dusk. She did not wait for me to speak that time. She piped up quick, “please, teach find my doll for me, and hear me‘say my lesson in the primer.” “Put your arm down ané be quiet,” says I, “and I will hear your lesson.” 1 put the rag doll in my pocket, and took the old primer I had found, and went to her. “Pind the place, and with your lesson,” says I, and 1 gave her the book. She turned over the leaves, as if she were quite customed to it, and I saw at once that [ had the right book. It was a queer lit- tle primer, that had been written by an old minister in Marshbrook, and used in the schools there for some time. She found the place scon.and began to read, hiping up quite lond. You could have reard her out ef doors: the windows were open. Thé 'piece was called, “The (*narac of a Good Child.” She read it very well, I only had her spell out a few of the words. “'You have got your lesson very well,” says I. T'hen I ook the doll out of my pocket, and gavaeit to her, She fairly snatched for it with her little, white, gloaming hands and they touched mine. and I felt the cbld strike to my heart again, . She hugged the-doll tight and kissed it with her stiff, parted lips. Then she held it off and looked at it. “Please, teacherifind my doll for me,” says she with a great wail, and 1 saw she knew it wasn't her own old doll. “Hush,” says I, can't find a doll that has been iost fifty years. This doll is just exactly as good. Now, yowd better take it and run home,” But she just gave that pitiful cry again—please, teacher, find my doll for me."” **You are not behaving pretty at all L That doll is just as good. hen, I don't know what ~possessed me to say it, but I says, *‘she hasn't got any mother, either She just hugged the doll tight, and kissed it again then, and didn't say another word against it. “Now, you'd better run home,” says I. She rose up and curtsied, and 1 was all ready to' spring. I followed hor. [ didn’t knaw as I could keep her in sight, go on veyard. Tsawa gleam of white in there a minute: then it was gone, That evening I went to Dr. Emmons and told him what had happen “Now," says I, “I want to know where that child was buried.” “She was buried in the old Williams tomb," says he. Then [ asked and go to the grav him to take a lantern, jard with me, and look in that tomb. ‘T didn't know as T could make him for quitea while. He said tho Williams fumily had all died awa There wasn't ono of them left in town. He didn't exactly he kept looking at me real shar| I suppose he was afraid I was getting hystericky. 1 guess he got pretty sure at last that [ wasn't, for I taught that Marshbrook Number One school seven yearsafter that, though any young thing could have done it, and stayed after school every night in the spring terms for that litile girl never came to scare anybody again, He kept looking at me that night, and then he felt my pulse and counted it by his watch. “You don't want to give theschool up,” says he. “*No, I don't,” says I. He went out after a while, and pres- cntly he came back with a lighted lantern and a key. Idon't know where he got it. Then we went down the road to the graveyard. It was a dark night and it was misting a little. He went along in front with the lantern and T followed on behind. He didn’t speak a word the whole way. I guess he felt kind of grouty at having to come out. 1 didn't care if he was. I was bound to find out. ‘When we came to the old graveyard he opened the gate and we went in. His lantern lit up all the old headstones and trees, and scraggy bushes, as we went across to the Williams tomb. It wasn't very far from the gate. A lot of Nittle bushes were growing out of the humped-up roof and I read Williams in the stonework over the icon door. The doctor fitted she key in the lock while 1 held the luntern. 1 felt the way I used to when I was a child, when I waked up in the dark, in the night, but [ held the lantern as steady as if my hand had been an iron haok. It was hard to turn the key in the rusty padlock and the doctor” worked quite a long time, but finally it snapped buck, and he pulled off the padlock and slipped the hasp. But even then he could not open the door until he had cleared away some stones and turned up some little plants that had grown over the threshold by the rcots, After he had done that, he opened the door, and a puff of that same strange odor which I had noticed about the child, came in my face. He took the laftern and stepped down into the tomb, and I after him. All of a sudden, he stopped ghort, and caught hold of my arm on the floor of the tomb, in the lantern light, right before us, lay the doll, and the p nany of em avy trucks and pment of tha ploying el s. ‘This is merely electric carriage idea, which has been suc- cessful in that country for several years. A I storage battery is. placed in an ordi- phaeton, T-cart, or brougham, tue ris_carried to the wheels, and the ted by the driver. Such a carriage 1 seen o good deal ubout New York for the last few months. The scheme is en- sible and practicable, and experi- ments have been mado toward adapting the system to heavy trucks. The government is interested in the experiment, aud health boards are enthusiastic over the subject, their claim being that if electricity can be substituted for horees the cleanliness and health of greav cities will be incalculably improved. Horses will always be used in ariving for pleasure, but the general scheme of employing clectricity for trucks and drays, providei the speed is limited, opens up a wonderful fleld. , - The coal tipple of the Hackett Coal and (Coke company, at their mine on the Wheel- ing division of the Baltimore & Ohio rail- road, burned one day last week. There have been Lavor troubles on this division for some time. but the miners are still working. The trouble 1s attributea to striking miners, or their friends, by some of the ofticials of the company. Miners' Secretary McBride de plores the burning, and says he does not think the min would be guilty of such an outrage. ‘I'hie loss was $3,500, e ana Cure indigostion Dillousness with creation couldn't be ducked a few times, l but I did, and she went into the old ' DeWitv's Little Early Risers, $4.60 $5.95 $6.90 207 S, 1sih, Between Farnam and Douglas. D. Underhill, in Harp:r's Wee:ly, ground Who served Ma- Ina great war for conscerate One who loved Cheist and o hound untered madly, so that Christian | lous Mosl . since §o ight i wildly they had waged the O'er their pale corpses hung their sou wroth, Till n strong angel bent and r: 1 shirle 1 the pagu uly foe 's drms shall o cursed heathon go?” proud knight. The radiant angel , yeu sed them both, Wouldst thou Cried 1l bent His stateiy head to hush thelr discontent, {now, yo vewildered souls,” ho softly said, Il those who bravely battled, being dead, <0 God alike in otic angelic host, Who to serve truth have counted 1ifo well Jost. For men, midst whirling clouds of smoke and e, adow diml hovah éall, ¢ fight bravel and give it name; Allah some, And sani though their lips be dumb. i faithtal spirita, when the strife waxed lot, > For the som d ye fought, Andnow th es'of death ure e heaven shall Lear ELECTRICAL NOTES. George Bartlett Prescott, who died re- cently, was one of the pioneers in electrical science. He was a partner with Edison in the ownership of all the patents in the quadruplex system in this country and Eng- land. Chicago is aiready in the fleld with a new telephone company which is to contest the flold with tho Bell company as soon as the telephone patents expire, at the end of this month, The company has a capital of $1,000,000, and will lose no time in pushing its busincss. The introduction of an ordinance into the Philadelphia councils granting the privilege of laying conduits in the streets to the wbaugh Telephone company, under con- ditions that it will insure a great reduction 203t of telephone service, besides eing a reasonable return to the city for the franchise, opens the way for com- petitive telephone service. The recent description of Herr Kolb's method of making the lines of electric forces visible has brought out arother, and fn some respects similar method by Prof. Weller of Esslingen. In Kolb's expériment, a quantity of pure anhydrous oil of turpentine was poured into a flat tray or vessel, and some sulphate of quinine stirred in With & gfwss rod, The ge from an electric “influ- ence” or “statie” machine was then sent through it by means of wires terminating in brass balls dipping into the tarpentine. This developed white crystals of quinine, which arrangea themselves in_beautiful curving lines between the balls. Prof. Wel- ler uses two electrodes, or metal surfaces connected in an electric circuit, and a mi of triturated sulphate o quimine in Shortly after the ele discharge is ptssod through it a clear is seen at the positive elcetrode and parti- cles of quinine cluster around the negative clectrode in streamers directed along the lines of clectric force, Either of these periments can be easily od out by the clectrical student. One of the most wonderful of my coveries in the region of clectrotherapy is the system of “cupric _electrolysis” brought out by Gautier of Paris, by which a metallic aeposit can be made on any part of the body, internal or external. ‘The process will be understood by recalling the fact that an > connected with the “positive into human tissue, Is quickly 1by the oxygen and chlorine set ut this pole, is converted into oxychlo ride of iron, a double salt, und is soon~ com- “I'he same is true of any by oxygen or chlorine. A copper needle or bulb or other conveniently 1 electrode penetrating tissue or laid t mucus membrane, especially within vities of the body, is converied iuto oxychloride of copper, zine into oxychloride of zine, and 80 on. This method has only recently been introduced into this country, but its benefits promise to be far-reaching when it is brought into general practice. ln gynecological work it secures results at- tainable by no othor means, us the introduc- tion of the positive conper sound afftords not only the intrinsic advant s 0f tne current, but also the further bencficial uction of an antiseptic salt whose permestion into th tissues contributes to their strength and n trition. In other words, the metallic de- posit is fivst made, and then, by what is termed “cataphoresis,” driven into the tis- sues. It is highly probable that this will be the treatment of the future in catarrh copper bulb through which an rlo current is passing is swept over th ud mucus membranes, und de posits and drives in the copper sals. This method is both rapid and piiniess, and its effects are described as magical - - The mayor of Cincinnati has been author- 1zed to expena $100,000 for the benefit of the unemployed, orn dis- THE COMPLEXION AND BEAUTY. MME. M. YALE'S Exoslsior Cocmplexion Remedies Awarded the Highest Medals and Dis plomas from the World's Fair Co- lumbian Exposition. Yale, the World- st, 18 the most beui uty has been ¢ served by the use of does not 100k more thi PRICE LIST And Mme. Yale's Advice FOR MITH PATCHES, SALLOWNESS, Thick, dead skin or any other dlscoloration I rees ommend my Complexiy 1, and guarantee it will remove all skin blemishes and give a perfect, natural complexion equal i purl d beauty to a child's. " Price, $2.00 for $5. Tt la advisable to use threc b 18 of long standing, although one bottle {s sufclent in many. WRINKLES AND SKIN FOOD. Excelsior Skin wrinkles and ¢ tested by ned Complexion 1 woman 1ving, er youth pre- At 41 sy stic und youtl el @ ks round and plump. Two sizes) $1.00 and $3.00 per jur FRECKLES ANJ LA FRECKLA. Tt mattera ot if fracklos have baen from youth Bkin honutiful, ful, P F1.00 per bottle, THE HAIR AND EXCEL8IO ! HAIR TONID, Gray hair 18 now turned back to lts onginal color for the first thne i the history of the . Y colsior Halr T A triumph in chemistry, contatns hours 10 BUIDE TO BEAUTY. o will send h uide to Besuty,” & val ook, froe, 1o ladles postage etanps to pay for malling same. Gives extracts from M Yulew famous lectures on beauty, and_general advice on boauty eulture— most adv i Lucation -which glyes every we 0 be and remain yo all i Mme. . Temple of Beauty, 146 Yale State wt., Send adles, you may i from you 4 Muic, g Yal He must be behind the tnes, s & Mme. M. YALR Heauty and Complexion Speclallst, 501 Karbach Block, 15th and Douglas Streats, Omaha, Ned. Main Office, 140 State St.. Chleago, I, | I(Pflrm U, 8. Journal of Medicine.) Prof, W. Il Pecke,whomakes aspeciaity of Epllepsy, hina without doubt treated and cured more cases than auyliving Physiclan ; hissuccess is astonishing. We havehieard of cases of 20 years'standing cured by bim, e publishesa valuable work on this disease which he sends with large bottle of 1iis absolute cure, free to auy sufforer who may send thei nd Express ade We advise anyore wi re to address, Prof. W, 1, YEEKE, 1", D., 4 Cedar 8t., New York,