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THE ROAD. Fray, whither th** road, fair heart? Bay, whither l«»ad» the read? Acrosn a rill, around a hill, Brwide a d«ll where river* atari, Where bending nut-trees shed their load— Oh. thither leads the road, dear heart, Oh thither leads the road. What matter where the road may lead. Bo thou and I together go? Companionship is all our need, Division all our woe. The pine-tree tall on yonder hill For yearn has watched the passer-by; TWheu he is dust we shall ho stilt Together, thou and I. Mow hushed the afternoon! I dare Not whisper love, but send the thought la speechless message. All the air In Hileuco' thrall is caught. Oh, these are God-reared tr*es! How soft The wind-dream* round their tall heads creep, The drowsy leaves that doze aloft Htir like n child In sleep. Young Autnmn's fire begins to burn The brands to hurl at Winter’s bfow; The nun-wooed leaves sigh low, and turn To crimson on the bough. I’ray, whither loads the road, fair heart? Hay, whither leads the road? Across a rill, around a hill, Beside a dell where rivers start, Where bending nut-trees shed their load— Oh. thither lead the road, my heart, Oh, thither leads the road. —John Macy In The Chap-Book. j fl Stolen Package. J From n yellow, faded pamphlet that lay for years on a bookshelf in an old- fashioned farmhouse in Tynedale in Ihe north of England, the story given below is taken. William Tarbot was a lawyer at Hexham, in the north of England. Having to attend the assizes at Aln wick and probably spend some days there and Mrs. Tarbot’s parents resid ing eight miles from that place, Mi. Tarbot arranged that his wife and their daughter, a girl of 16, should accom pany him and stay with their relatives until he was ready to return home. The family traveled on horseback, as was customary among country people in those days, and reached the abode of Mr. and Mrs. Norman, the wife’s parents, after a pleasant ride of a few hours. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were plain, old-fashioned people, owning their own farm and accounted wealthy. The next morning Mr. Tarbot rode on to Alnwick and was soon over head and ears in business. . 1 On the last day of the court one Wray of Bamborough paid over to Mr. Tarbot 2850 pounds in bank of Eng land notes in settlement of a suit. Wray had the money iu a brown paper parcel, which he opened in Tarbot’s bedroom in the inn where they were both staying. The two men counted the money,; and Wray wrapped it up in the same way in which he had pro duced it and laid the package on t\ie table, at the same time saying: “Now, Tarbot, you should stand womething, so ring the bell.” “Why, of course I will, with pleas ure,” Tarbot said, and thereupon Wray playfully turned him toward the bell pull, which hung by the side of the mantelpiece. • After the meu had drunk together they parted with mutual expressions of good feeling, Tarbot putting the package into his pocket buttoning his coat over it. An hour later he changed his coat for a traveling one and laid the. package on a chair by a window, leaving it there whiie he went out opou the gallery ami called the boots :to bring him his saddle bags, which lie had been cleaning. Having stowed away hf* things iu the bags,he put on his traveling coat, placed the package in his inside pocket and buttoned the eoat over his breast. Then he mounted bis horse and started for the dwelling of his father-in-law. / It was an unusually hot day iu Sep tember aud a thuuderstorm was rag ing over the Grampians. Fearing that he might be hindered by the swelling stream if he attempted to ford it, he rode two or three miles out of his way to cross it by a bridge. It was well he did so, for, thougu he rode right into the atormand waswet to the skin, he got on the safe side of the water, and the rest of his road was uuob- •atructed. Nevertheless so heavy was the storm that he took refuge in a amithy on the outskirts of a hamlet «ud waited there until the blast had •pent itself. When he reached Squire Normau’s dwelling, it was past 9. A roasting Are soon tried his clothes and a hearty supper speedily put •him to wight internally. As he sat by the hearth smoking the squire-said: “We have a curious visitor here to night- -not here exactly either,as you’ll aee. When the storm was at its height, a tall, gaunt man, dressed like a drover, oame here for shelter. We gave him all he could eat aud drink, and he is now asleep, I suppose, in ♦he hayloft. He told us a very strange story. He said he haij been east with a drove of cattle and was returning afoat when the rain caught him. He managed with-some difficulty to ford Die st: cam, and was making his way along the bank when he heard a cry for help. It turned ont, so far as h*e could learn, that a man, in attempting to cross, iiad lost his footing ami was clinging desperately to the exposed wools of a tree, while the rushing ilood was too strong for him to resist jso as to get a hold of the root or any thing elae with his feet. It was im possible for the drover to reach him, and he shouted that fact across the flood. Then the man cried: “I have a package of money here which will be washed away if I lose my grip. If you’ll take care of it for me. I’ll share it with you.’ “‘Throw it this way,’ the drover said *1 am John Cotter aud you cau hear of me at the Greeu Man at Carlisle any day.’ “With this the stranger hurled a package toward the drover, which he luckily caught,” continued the squire. “He showed us the package and opened it before us all. It contained 2850 pounds in England notes.” “Great Lord!”exclaimed Mr. Tarbot, clapping his band to his breast. “Can it be possible—No. I feel it. The package is all safe.” He opened his coat and drew forth a brown paper package from the inside pocket. “I tell you what, squire,” he said. “I burst out into a cold sweat all over when you told me what the drover’s package contained, for I have a pack age of money for a client amounting precisely to the sum you named.” “Why, the drover’s package is the very picture of yours,’’said the squire. “Outside perhaps; outside,” said the lawyer as he opened the package. Inside there was nothing but a lot of sheets of worthless paper cut into the size of Bank of England notes. Tarbot was for a time struck dumb. “I’ve been robbed,” he said savagely, but restraining his voice. “The package containing my client’s money has been stolen aud this worth less package put in its place. Your drover, squire, is the thief.” “Well, it looks like it certainly," said the squire. “But what would induce the man if he were a thief to come here aud show me the money, and desire to stay here all night? Wouldn’t he have got so faraway with it as possible and just as quickly as he could?” “It seams so certainly,” Tarbot answered. “Nevertheless the circm- stances are so remarkable that I think steps ought to be taken at once by you as a magistrate to secure the drover if he hasn’t shown a pair of clean heels already.” “I agree with you, "said the squire, “and I will send for the constable at once and arrest him. ^ While a servant was quickly dis patched for the officer of the law, the squire aud TarRot, each armed with a pistol, quitted the house by the rear, and, being provided with a lantern, went to the stable over which was the hayloft where the drover was supposed to be. Ascending the ladder without noise, the lawyer threw the light of the lantern across the floor. There, sure enough,lay the gaunt form of the drover, -with every sign upon it of a deep sleep. Nevertheless when the con stable arrived the drover was aroused and, much to his surprise was informed that he was a prisoner. After he heard the explanation of the fact he laughed heartily and said: “Well, now, isn’t this some trick that you are trying to practice upon me? I vow, it’s clever, but it isn’t fair to wake a tired man out of his first sleep for tjie sake of a joke.” He was assured that it was no joke, and, being kindly advised by the squire to go quietly with the constable, he did so. Next morning the body of a murdered man was discovered on the other side of the stream, about a quar ter of a mile below the bridge. It was removed to the village lockup, aud there Mr. Tarbot identified it as Wray’s. The skull was fractured aud the right arm broken. It was sup posed that the arm was broken when raised to protect the head from a blud geon, which was found near the body. But this was not all. The overseer of the poor had in his charge in an outhouse of the village inn a man who had been found early that morning on the bank of the stream with a dis located arm and some broken ribs. Here was a nice complication of things, such, in fact, as had never be fore come under the notice of Squire Norman or his son-in-law.Tarbot. The man with the dislocated arm was soaked and mud stained and had evi dently been carried away by the over flowing stream. Tarbot naturally associated him with the person who had given the package to the drover for safe keeping. This turned out to be all right, for the drover, being quietly introduced to the place where the man was, said: “Well, neighbor, do you want your package?” The man, who had been lying for some time apparently nnconscious, now bestirred himself aud, looking around and seeing that only the drover was there, exclaimed: “What! Are you the man I threw it to?’; “Aye, it is safe,” was the reply. “When will you be ready to divide?” “Don’t say a word,” said the man in a low tone. “Stay around until I am able to get away and then I'll make it all right with you.” After this all suspicion Vras removed from the drover,and he was taken into the counsels of the squire aud Tarbot, In a few days the man was well enough to talk,and he was encouraged to do so by the drover, who assumed the character of a free rover looking around fer what be could pick up or knock down. The man admitted that be had taken the package from a stranger whom he met ou the high way. He was confronted with the club and Wray’s corpse, but put on a bold front and denied all knowledge of them. Finally, however, he con fessed to the drover that he had brained Wray and stolen the package from him, afterward taking refuge in a roadside inn, where he found an op portunity to examine and learn the nature of the plunder. Then he grew restless and ventured out in the storm, and in an attempt to cross the stream missed his ford and thus came to meet the drover. There was nothing left to explain the abstraction from the custody of Tarbot of the genuine package aud the substitution of the counterfeit except that Wray himself had designed the scheme and carried it ont as he pushed Mr. Tarbot toward the bell pull, and that in making his way not toward home, for that was in a con trary direction, but to some place where he intended to conceal the money, he was met by the ruffian who murdered and robbed him. This wretch gave the name of George Rain- ton, and under that he was convicted of the murder of Wray. It was after ward commonly asserted that his real name was that of a distinguished Northumberland family, and that through their influence the sentence was commuted to transportation, and that he was allowed to escape punish ment altogether on condition of his quitting the country.—A. Beckwith in Brooklyn Citizen. . DOWN THE CHILKOOT PASS. Tuck Up Your Clothes, Sit Down on the Snow and Slide—Time One Minute. In a letter from E. C. Patterson, dated at Canyon City, Alaska, he says: “This is a great country, and I am glad I came, bat the living is more than tough. I was under the impres sion that I knew something of camp life, but this is an entirely new exper ience. I am located at what it is char ity to call Canyon City—a camp where the Dyea-Klondike Transportation company boards the men who are working on its tramway. This iw the first day since my arrival, 10th in stant, that I have seen the sun. It is not extremelycold (themercury ranges from zero to 30 degrees above), but it is nearly always cloudy, and the wind blows hard most of the time. “A few days ago I went to the sum mit of Chilkoot Pass. From this place (six miles north of Dyea) it is seven miles to what is called the foot of the summit, and it seems like forty when you walk it; but after so much has been accomplished, one’s troubles have just begun. The ascent is, say, 500 feet, and almost straight up. It would be itnpossTKle to make the climb but for the snow, which is, on an av erage, forty feet deep; this provides a footing, and it required more than an hour for me to make the summit, where a level stretch of about 100 yards intervened before the second climb, much steeper, was made, which landed me on the real summit of Chil koot Pass. “When ready to leave, and it was not long, the Indian guide said ‘do as I do,’ -and proceeded to tuck his clothes under him, seated himself in the snow on the edge of the slope, and away he went down the side of the mountain. I followed. The experi ence was exciting, and after crossing the level plateau, took another slide, reaching the bottom in less than a minute, while it had required more than hour to mount. In watching a man descend it looks for all the world like a cloud of snow shooting down the mountain, and the victim lands at your feet; such is the Chilkoot Pass. Two men were frozen to death op the sum mit last week.”—New York Sun. The Siamese Girl’s Dance. The most graceful and intricate dance of any savage people is said to be the cup dance of Siam. The girls who take part in it range in age from five to twenty years, and their train ing is begun as soon as they are able to walk. In dancing the cup dance a row of girls take their positions with a tier of cups on their heads, which they keep balanced throughout the dance. They kneel down with military precision and bow their heads till their fore heads nearly tonch the floor, keeping the cups on their heads meanwhile by a series of skilful jerks of the neck. They also make a series of rapid and intricate circles, bringing into play al most every muscle of the body with out disturbing the caps. Another feature of this dance is for the girls to bend backward and pick up little pieces of straw with their eyelids. Throughout the dance the positions are always easy and graceful, and the movements are light and airy. The Heal Owner. “I have called, Mr. Jingle,” said the tax collector, “to ask you to pay this bill for taxes on your house.” “Take it around to the back door and ask the cook,” said Mr. Jingle. “If you’d lived here twenty-four hours you’d know, sir, that she owns the house. I’ve abdicated.”—Har per’s Bazar. Missouri has an annnal output of timber rated at about $7,000,000. PLANTING THE TREE. What do we plant when we plant the tree? We plant the ship which will cross the sea. We plant the mast to carry the Mil; We plant the planks to withstand the gale— The keel, the keelson, and beams and knee; We plant the ship when we plant the tree. What do we plant when wo plant the treel We plant the homes for yon and me. We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors. We plant the ading, the laths, the doors. The bea ns am. sidings, all parts that be— We plant the «nen we plant the tree. What do we plant when we plant the tree? A thousand things that we dally see. We plant the spires that outtower the crag, We plant the staff for our country’s flag, Wc plant the shade, from the hot sun free; We plant all these when we plant the tree. —New York Ev&ngel^t. PITH AND POINT. “Those opposition fellows at Col am bus received a decided check. ” “What was the amount?”—Cleveland Plain dealer. He—“But you might in time learn to like me.” She—“It is not impossi ble, if yon will keep out of my sight.” —Boston Transcript. “Do you know I don’t think much of Mawson.” “You don’t have to. Yon can size Mawson up in two sec* ends.”—Brooklyn Life. Reggy—“Aw—Miss Gnace, yonah always in my mind, dontcher know.” Miss Grace—“Goodness! that is worse than living in a flat. ”—Up-to-Date. Hattie—“Maude doesn’t show her age at all, does she?” Ella—“No; but yon can see where she scratched it out of the family Bible.”—Chicago News. He—“She told me I was the light of her heart.” She—“Then what?” He—“Well, her old man came down and put the light ont.”—Columbus Journal. * Her Father—“Have yon heard my daughter sing, young man?” Edwin (nervously)—“ Ye-es—sir—but in spite of that—I should like to have her, sir. ”—Ally Sloper. Tommy—“A lighthonse is a sign of rocks, isn’t it, paw?” Mr. Figg—“It depends on whether yon are referring to the seashore or the drama.”—In dianapolis Joarnal. “No, I never take the newspapers home; I’ve a family of grown-up daughters, you know.” “Papers too full of crime, eh?” “No, too fall of bargain sales.”—Truth. Edith—“She sings like a canary.” Bertha—“Oh, no! A canary begins to sing when people commence to talk; people commence to talk when she begins to sing.”—Boston Transcript. Tonqmy—“Paw, what sort of a fight er 1? a ‘cyclone fighter?’ ” Mr. Figg —“I don’t know much about fighters, butJ suppose it is one who goes blow ing \aronnd.”—Indianapolis Joarnal. “Does that baby of yours talk yet?” “His mother says he does; but if it is talk, then the kid has invented a new code of slang that will make him fa mous.”—Philadelphia North Ameri can. His Opinion.—“What are you doing, Jimmie?” “Beadin’ th’ dictionary through.” “How do you like it?” “Oh, some o’ the words is good, but others hain’t much sense in ’em.”— Judge. Old Million—“My dear Miss Young- thing, if you’d only marry me I could die happy.” Miss Youngthing—' “Why, Mr. Million, if yon were dying I’d marry you in a minute.”—New York Weekly. “Why does the baron look so glum? I thought he had just married an heiress.” “So he has; but he specu lated a 4 0W days after the marriage and lost the better half of his wife.”— Fliegende Blatter. Mr. Romanz—“I tell you what, a baby brightens np the house, and that’s a fact.” Mr. Praotickel—“Yes; we’ve had to keep the gas burning all night ever since ours was born.”— Philadelphia Record. “Do yon think that glasses tend to weaken the sight?” asked Colonel Stillwell’s friend. And after pensive consideration the colonel replied: “It depends, sab, entirely on how many you take.”—Washington Star. A Mm FmU for Twenty Year*. There is a Jew, a native of Litsk, Russia, living in the East End of London, who has fasted for twenty years, his sole daily diet daring that time consisting of six pints of milk, three pints of beer, and half a pound of Demerara sugar. His name is Morris Fox. He is an excellent Tal- mndical scholar, and in spite of his frugal meals, he is the most healthy, intelligent and wideawake person in his quarter. He is now over forty. At the age of seventeen, it appears, he caught some lingering fever, which shattered his constitution ard entirely destroyed his digestive organs. He took many kinds of treatment from many physicians, until his stomach became inured to all medicine. At the Kieff Hospital they vainly tried to cure him by sponging and electrolysis; at Vienna his physicians included the well-known Drs. Albert and North- nagel. His treatment at Carlsbad was a failure; then he traveled to Konigs- berg, when the physicians decided that he must live on sugar, milk and beer. He adopted their prescription, and soon regained normal health. For twenty years no solid food has passed liis month. • The queation of the necessity for or advisability of corporal punishment in the schools Is again under discussion in Brooklyn, where a little boy, who died recently, is supposed to have been the victim of this sort of correction. The Citizen says that “the boy’s hands were struck with a strap, after which he was hit on the lower part of the back with a piece of bicycle tire.” It is not known posi tively that this beating was the cause of the illness (cerebral meningitis) that resulted in the boy’s death, but there are those who think It was. At all events, it has occasioned a good deal of talk as to the merits or demerits bf cor poral punishment In the schools. It would seem, however, that there ought to be no occasion for any talk on this subject, for there ought to be no such subject. The schools are no place for corporal punishment. If, Indeed, It can justly be said that there Is a place on earth for It. Many there are who con cede to the parent the right to beat the child, but It may be questioned that he has a moral right to do so. It Is not clearly established that nature made the child either to do right or to be whipped for not doing right, and it is not unreasonable to say that in a very large percentage of cases the parent who uses the rod is moved to revenge on the child his own neglect in the mat ter of the child’s training. Whatever, however, may be thought as to the propriety or otherwise of the parental thrashing, no teacher ought to be per- tnltted to lay violant hands on the pupil. It is a humiliating, a degrading punishment, fit only for the correction bf beasts, which have no reasoning powers to appeal to. There are many Ways In which & child may successful ly be reached—through his Instinct of onor or of pride; through the spirit of nilness that is gaining growth In 1m; through his hope of reward or his •fear of merited punishment; through (love; through manifestation of inter est in him, and through his sympathies, and the gentlest of these ways are, as ia rule, the most effective. It is a fact That teachers have achieved great suc cess in dealing with pupils without the Use of the rod, and all ought to be com pelled to do so, If they can’t, to make Way for those who can. , !h A Reliable Superstition. Several men were talking of super stitions so common among all classes of people. As a matter of course, one of the things touched upon was the sup posedly fatal number thirteen. An old colored man who happened to be within heiring distance felt moved to remark: “I wants to tell you gem’men not to make fun o’ dat thirteen bus’ness. I ain’t superfishus, but I tell you don’t f ou eat at no table whar dar’s thirteen. done do dat, and I hope to die If pretty near every one of detta ain’t dead and buried." ' His hearers expressed surprise at his remarkable statement and asked for particulars. "Well, some of dem got killed and one thing an’ another, and some jest natchelly died. But they is pretty near all gone to-day." "How long ago did this thirteen at table incident occur?" “Now, lemme see. Been about thirty year since the war, ain’t it? Well. I specs it must a happened fifteen or twenty years before the war broke out. But it makes iqe feel about as oneasy as* though it was only yisterday. I specs I’ll be the next most any day.” Thousands of Bushels of Locusts. The war that was waged against lo- custs In defence of the crops and vine yards in Algeria last year is described as having been extensive as well as very successful. Lines of defence 322 miles In aggregate length were con structed, and in the ditches placed to receive the pests as they fell from the barriers more than 270,000 bushels of young locusts were destroyed. otters should both urge you to get rtt of i disgusting skin dlsosso. Whether It bo a tin abrasion, a chap or a bum. or whether ttl Chrttdo ease of Bcsema, Tatter or Rtngtra Tetterine will poaMrely, infallibly onre It. C Uaolt will stay oared, too. 90 rents a bo: drag stores, or by mall for SO cents In oaat stamps from J. T. Shuptrlne. Savannah, Oa. We offer One Hundred Dollars Reward We, the andeitignedThareknoVraF^C nay for tha last 15 years, and believe him ; feotbr honorable in all business transacts and nnsnolallv able to carry out any obit “— mads by their firm. yix IMOMAO uj uutur iirm. Tatrax, Wholesale Drugglsta,Toledo, vsnlOL w l ;sss«^ , TWoh , ^^* T,,l w,,ol - to Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internally, act ing directly upon the blood and mucous sur- faoes of the system. Testimonials rent free, „Doo't try to keep house without Blue Ribbon Baking Powder. At all Grocers. B. R. B. P. Company, Richmond. Virginia. It is said that the French eat snails, and yet they are accused of living fast FOR 14 CENTS; WevrlshtogelaUMttasweu- ' ilteVK/raS" i , s*K3eSaES. ,, ‘ ffi! } ” BlmiKk Cecuaber. Mel • ** Uueen Vteterie* Kioodjke Meloi .Imnho OUnt &u & " liriiusat Viewer Seeds, Mo Worth SI.OS. Ur 14 eeets. • Above 10 pkfo. worth SI M, we will Bail ynn froe, together with our greet PUnt end Seed CeUlogoe upon receipt of thfe notloe end Itc. 1 poet age. We invite your trade and 1 know when yon once try belter's seeds yon wftlnever rrt el< _ -Uowgwith- Petwteen at 81.50 a Bbl.CeUlogtloaefe. Ro. A0 4 eiLSKR sren r&. i.a raosSs, wn.