7 Rates of Advertising. OneSqtiare (1 inch, )ono Insertion - V OnoHijiiHro " ono month - -3 00 OnoHijuare " three months - fl 00 Onofsquare " ono year - - 10 00 Two Squares, one year - 15 To Quarter Col. " - - -30 00 Half !.. - ,0 CO 0ne - - - - 100 CO Legal notice at established rates. Marriage and death notices, gratis. All bills for yearly advertisements col lected quarterly. Temporary advertiw. tnnnts must bo paid for in aMvanre. Job work, Ca-h on iXUvei?-. M IM P.l.lsrn;i EVIMIY WKDSWIM V, Bf O". 33. WBNK ti-FICE IN ROBINSON & BONNER'S BCILuIKQ ELM OTZIEET, TIONESTA, FA, TERMS, 1.60 A YEAR. .. Subscriptions received for a ahortwr i . than throo months, ci icKpoiiili'iirc solicited iroin all parts oi tlif country. No iii.iico will bo taken ot anonymous i-oimiiuniotlion. VOL. XIII. NO. 13. TIONESTA, PA., JUNE 1G, 1880. $1.50 Per Annum.- This Farm For Sale. With wo.iry heart and trembling hand I guide tho team nfiidd ; Oood hoi gos ah, they soem to see Tho griul I try to shiold. Tho skies are low'ring ovorhoad, MiHlortiino blows a gale; 1'ut up a board, and write thereon l'hcse wordc: Thin farm lor sale." What' soil tho homestead broad and lair- 'li.o duBreft spot on earth T Sha 1 slianijnrs nit whoro I havo sat, Around iho lainily hearth T The larm whoro mothor took the vows .That in l it) her lather's bride ? The plane whora laughing Noll wa born I'he spot whoro Willio died ? What! must I pnrt with incinoiies So ''ery dear to moT The moy spring, the purling brook, Tiie leaving applo-trooT Tho shadows ot departed ones ltise up and touch tny arm; I hear thoir ploading voice now; not do tort tho larm!" K islirinod within my heart ol hearts The house whore I was born, O io summer nixhti when heivea's rain 1) iat dn the growing corn ; 1'rni riiom whoro I have olten passed ll.mo, ith lh iast'iiiug rod t Whoro lather laid me early on Tlio altar ot his Gitd! While I have strength lo swing the axe Wbilo I can guide the plow; While I can toil and bring the sweat Ol labor to my brow, I'll keep misuirlune' wolt at bay I Love triu inptis ovurgold! lake down the board and break it The funu shull uol be sold! T. C. Haibaugh. ESTHER'S FORTUNE. " How cold It is! I aay Marcia, rut ot 4'ui mure wood, und close ttie win d i t ;iudi. 'Po irs to me the winter are' colder now tlnu they used to be." " You ar older now. Aunt Phoebe, and old tplks feel the cold more tlmn when, they were young." replied Mtrcia a tall. handsome girl of twenty, with decided look and cirriau; addirnz "I'll close thr ihutter.j, Esther, whih you bring the wood.'1 It was always thus; the mo9t difficult or disagreeable tusk was invariably pu upon Either, a slender, delicate lookup girl, a year younger than Marcia. Aunt Phcn'ie K 'ding never pcrceiver1 it she hail no thought but lor herseli ami her ailings and if Esther was - aw ire ol it site made no opposition. Njw alio wtnt out to the woodpile and tilled her basket with ebips, ano gathered some wood ready to carry into the house. There was no servant on the Keeling place, except an old negro man and woman who occupied the outer kitchen, and were expected to do tho iougher work of the little fam ily. She stood for a moment in the chilly November air. looking round her at the ncgle ted little gray farmhouse with iti , moss-grown rouf, flanked by aed and half dead trees; at the 8 tony held be tween the house and the river, sprinkled witti stunted cornstalks and patches ol yellow broom; nnd ot the rocky hill be hind tne house, ciothod witti somber pines, whose low, monotonous murmur mingled with that of Ihe river, and sounded day and night like a moaning dirge. No more lonesome or dreary place could be imagined than this barren remnant of the oM Keeling farm. And yet, here had the greater part of Esther's life been passed. Ten years ago her mother had returned, a penni less widow, to the auat who had been to .ier a. j a mother, and with whom she had again found a home. On her death bed sue had said to Esther, "Take care ot Aunt Puoobd in her old age" an in 'junrtion which thegir. had rememberid and obeyed, in ftoii of all temptations to seek a more cheerlul home. At the f-.nn they found Marcia, whose father, the brother of Esther's mother, had lived with Aunt Keeling till his deaih. Under his management tne farm had yielded something; but afterward the place went down, and the old lady hal sold it, field after tie Id, till nothing t remained save this long, narrow ridge of stony ground on which he house was situated, lying between the pine hills and tue river, and which no one cared to purchae at any price. A dreary plaoj and a droary life for Esther, especially whffiiMrc a, unable longer to enf3re it, had gone to teaob school at Ashwood, a village some twelve miles distant. She came home once a month on Saturdays; und this winter, learning that Aunt Keeling was very feeble and could not live long, she had given up her school and re turned to the farm, as she s lid, to take cire of her. But the truih was that Marcia, a clever girl, with her.own in terests always in view, had learned that Aunt Keeling owned some two thou sand dollars in bank, and knowing her intention of leaving all sho possessed to her t wo great niec s. she had considered it prudent to bs on the spot 1 st Esther, who hud reoiiin-.-d with the old lady, should come in fjr the larger share. As Esther stooped to lilt the armful of wood, a man appeared riding along the open cart-track which led through the cornfield toward tha village, a mile distant. He was a good-lookin. manlv young fellow, neatly dressed in a suit of gray homespun. On seeing the girl he turned from the patnway and dis mounted by her side. ' Why, EsUier. this is no work for , you. Look at your bauds fit only for sewing, wiiydid you not call Uncle Si?" Ueia ac work, and lame, you know, and 1 thought it a pity to call him such a distance." " Then, where is MarciaP She is twice as strong as you. But maybe she pre fers wieiding birch-twigs to carrying h'ckory-logs," no added, with a laugh. " Marcia knows that I am stronger than I look," Esther answered, simply. " I fear you take too much upon your self. I fan",y you don't look as well as usual. Doctor Far n ham should take better care of you," he added, with a constrained smile and a curious, ques tioning glance at her lace. A conscious blush tinged her cheek. " We don't employ Doctor Farnham." she answered, pretending to take his moaning literally. "You know my aunty don't like his family. I don't know why." "She has reason. I've heard the story from mother Old Farnham jilted her when they were young, and you Know Aunt l'heoobe finds it hard to for give." "Poor aunly!" She raised her eyes full to his. " I've never heard that said of Doc tor Farnham," she answered, with un wonted spirit. " Well. I hope you never may, since you think bo much of him." said the young man. with something like a sigh, as he lifted the hewn logf" and piled them on his arm as lightly as though they had been o many twigs. Passing across the yard, he laid his bumen within the entry door. Marcia looked in with a coquettish smile. " Won't you come in, George, and warm jourseltr" " No, thank you, not now. I am on an errand for mother, and must get back before sunset." And lie hurried away. " Who was thatP'' inquired the old may irom tier armchair. George Harrison, aunt." " A good young man. I wish he would marry Esther. I used io fancy that he likeu her." "So ho did, and told her so last sum mer, and she refused him. His sister, Mrs. Temple, told me about it." "Keiused hiu' And -what for?" "Oh, because just about that time she got acquainted with young Doctor Farnhan, and he paid her attention at the protracted meeting, and walked with her whenever he saw her after ward. People begin to notice it. Aunt Phoebe. They say that he means to marry her." You don't tell me, Marcia! Doctor Farnham! He's of a bad stock proud md siuckup folks, who made money by cheating and lost it speccrlating. Ile'li specerlate only he's no money to spec orlate with." "Oh, he thinks that when be mar ries Esther he'll have your money to uso." "He does, hey? That's what he's after, is it? Weil," mumbled tiie old lady, her chin trembling with excite nient, " he'll get no money o' mine, nor Ksther neither, if she moans to marry him. Narra a niece o' mine shall marry a Farnttatn, if I can help it. I know V m and so did my family afore me to our t ono w. We've had enough of them Farnhauis." An hour after Esther came in, her cheeks crimson, her eyes tearful and radiant with a soft light. To Marcia's question she replied that she u id boon to the ineadjw so they called che strip of marsh bordering tue river to fetch home the cows. Aunt Keeling look at her with an anry glare in her dim eyes. "That's Chloe's business. But, Esther, what is this Marcia tells me 'bout you and that young Farnham? You ve deceived mo, Esther." " No, Aunt Phcobe. I knew tha. you did not like h.m. and so I would not mention him. You see, I did not dream until this evening that he really cared for me." "Tais evening?" repeated Marcia. "Oh! .10 you met him down in the meadow. 1 thought I saw him down there with his gun." " Esthe," said the old lady, excitedly tapping the floor with her staff " Esther, I want you to promise me one thing, and that is, that you'll never marry a Farnham." The girl looked into the fire and was silent. ' Will yon promise, girl? Yes or nc! " " That would be breaking my promise to him, Aunt Pauibe," she said in a low voice. " Yonr promise to him!" screeched the old lady, thumping the stick vio lently on the floor. Uo you mean to say you've promised to marry him?" " xes tins evening in the meadow. I meant to have told you und begged you to likb him. You would like him if you knew him, Aunt Phoebe." She clasped her hands on her aunt s knee and looked up pleadingly, with eyes lull of tears, liut the old woman was in a quiver of laee, ana sne declared, ber solemn re- soive never to leave Esther a cent of her money, except on condition of her giv ing up Doctor F'arnhan:, And when a week alter this, Aunt Keeling died.it became known to every body that she had left her Hi teen hun dred dollars to her niece Marcia, while to Esther she had bequeathed the old farmhouse and the strip ot barren ground attached. " That," she had said to the village lawyer who drew up the will " that is to prevent her marrying Farnham." A week alter the old lady's burial Doctor Farnham came to see Esther. In this time he hud not lingered about the river and the meadow, watching opportunities to waylay Esther as he had previously done, and the girl missed the sweet interviews which had thrown a light and a glory over her dreary life. Now, on this his first open visit to her, she met aim blushing and smiling, and with eyes overflowing with tears of love and gladness. He did not take her in his arms as he had done in the meadow, and the girl shrank shyly into a etiair. Alter some commonplace talk, he said: ' Edtljer, what do you propose to do now? You elmnot live alone in this dreary place." She looked down with a conscious blush. Of course he would take her away now, as his wile, to his own home. "Have you no friend or relative to whom you could goP" he inquired. " Noi" she answered, with a cold chill creeping at her heart. "That is a pity. Marcia is going back to her school. Could you not go with her, or leach a school of yourowu, as she doesP" " I am not as clever 113 Marcia. I could not teach school." " Then what will you do?" " I don't know." she answered, faintly. He looked at her a moment. She had become very pale. The light had died out of her eyes, the color from her cheek, and she had halt turned away her face, and was looking out upon the dreary field and river. He took a seat near her. " Esther, it is time that you and I un derstood each other. You know I love you, and were I not so miserably poor I should be glad to take you away from this place and make you my wife. When I proposed doing so I thought that is, most people said that your aunt would leave you the greater part of her prop erty, and she was supposed to be wealthier than has proved to be the case. Consequently I imagined that I should have enough to live upon in comfort until I could make a practice. You know I am but a beginner." Esther slowly turned and looked at him with large, clear, wondering eyes. " Were you going to marry me far for money?" she a3ked, with just a tinge of scorn in the last word. "Certainly not." he replied, loftily. " I merely understood that we should have enough to live on. As it has turned out, why, we should starve that is all. He walked once or twice up and down the room, then stopped in front of her. ' Esther, a man could do more mean and selfish thing than to marry without money, and so make a slave of the wo man he loves. Don't you agree with me?" "I don't know." "But I know all about it, young as I am. 1 have seen enough ot that sort ot thing. An unhappy, broken-down wo man, slaving over cooking, washing, heaven knows what while her husband toils for their daily bread. Esther, I love you too well to expose you to sucn a life. I hate to give you up; but if you would prefer being free from your promise to me. 1 should consider it so. fish to oppose it." blie mace no answer. "Of course." he resumed, coldly "of course, if you prefer that our en gagement should continue, I shall hold yseit in honor bound, even thou 2 11 it be many years before we are able to many. " " No," said Esther, slowly " no. It is better that the engagement should end " "I am glad you see it in so sensible a light. It will save you much future unhappiness." " Yes." " It is hard to give you up, but there is no alternative! And washall remain friends, Esther, and 1 will come to see you somelimes." " No, I would rather not. And I would rather that you should go now," she added, chokingly. " I will go if you wish it. Aid I hope you will be happier. Esther, than it y. u had married a poor man like me, to lead a lite of poverty and privation. God bltss you! Good-bye." Sue passively gave him her hand. It was cold 03 ice, and her eyes had a frozen, tar away look as they followed him to the door. " Poor thing! I feel really sorry for her, but she will get over it," mused Doctor Farnham, as he passed briskly through the field, with his cane whisk ing off the feathery heads of the sway ing broom, and with the high heels of his polished boots grinding down the tufts of moss in his way, and leaving them crushed an 1 dying behind him. Esther went to the window and looked alter him as long as he was in sight looked with an agonized, straining gaze until his form disappeared in the dreary twilight. And then she gazed around at the bleak wintry prospect the bar ren field, the cold, dark river, the som ber pines and throwing up her clasped hands above her head, murmured with white lips: "Oh, my God! how shall 1 bear it f" and Bank insensible on the floor. So old Chioe found her, and ten derly put her to bed. Marcia was not altogether heartless, and she did her best to persuade her cousin to leave the lonely old farm-house and seek a more cheerful home. She even, probably moved by some feeling ot remorse at the part she had had in depriving Esther of her fortune, offered to obtain her a place us governess, or iady's companion; but Esther retused it all. She expected, she said, to live and uie at the old farm-house. Oh, the dreary winter days, when snow lay deep on the ground and the river and the pines sang their perpetual dirge as the chill wind swept over them! And the long, weary nights, when a horror of loneliness seemed to brood over the deserted old house, and it seemed to Esther, in her sleepless dreams, that light and warmth and summer sunshine would never again look down upon, or upon her life. One evening she sat alone, reading by the light of the pine-wood tire, while Chioe in the next room prepared sup per It was a bitter cold and windy night; and Esther suddenly started up in alarm when there was a tap at the door. Dun came a sound of stamping feet in the snow, and the door opening dis closed the stalwart form and frank, cheery faceof George Harrison. " E icuse my unceremonious entrance, please, Esther. I feared you would take me for a tramp and be frightened. 1 came over to see if you were snowed up, this awful weather, and 1 am glad to find you alive md well." Esther was heaping fresh pine-knots on the fire. " I am so glad you came, George," she said, feeling the cheeriness of his presence through the lonesome room. ' So am I," he replied, laughing. " There, let me do this for you. Now, we shall have a royal blaze What a comfort there is in a good, cheery pine wood fire, with the logs glowing on the hearth, and the blaze lighting up the walls. Have you had supper, Esther? No? Then if you don't object, I'll stay and take a cup ot tea with you, and I'll tell you my errand at leisure." Esther, as she drew up the little square tab le opnosite the fire, and spread the white cloth and Aunt Phoebe's best old china teaset, wondered at the sud den brightness that seemed to have come over everything. Her own face brightened, and she found herself smiling at George's remarks, when it had appealed to her that she could never smile again. And when Chloecame in, hpr broad black face beaming benevolently upon the two, and her hands bearing a tray of crisp corn meal pones, and delicate milk biscuits and ham ant eggs, which she begged them "to eat a1-once while they were hot and sizzlin', for ham and eggs warn't no 'count arter they onced got cold," then Esther felt that she had awakened from a wretched dream into the returning light and warmth of every day life. " How nicely you pour out the tea. Esther!' George said. "I wish you could do that in mother's place, who has never been able to handle a teapot properly since her wrists were sprained." " Her wrists SDrained?" " Yes, quite badly, about two weeks ngo. She slipped on the ice in going down the back entry steps. And, to tell the truth, Esther, I came to-night partly to ask it you could not come and stay a little with mother. You would be tuch a help and comfort to her, you know." "I?" said Esther, with such an un conscious pathos in her look and tone that it went straight to the young man's heart. " Yes, you. Mother would prefer to have you to any one else in the world. I am sure of it. Your nice, quiet, dainty ways just suit her, and you know she is lonesome now that M ggie has married and gone away. W ill you come, Esther say to-morrow P" " Yes," she replied, slowly, " I will come, George, if 1 can be of any use." And so it was that Esther went to the Harrison's pleasant home, intend ing to stay only a few days. But she never returned to live at the old Ke2ling place, and this was what George had intended when he. with so much artful delicacy, induced her to leave it. They would not hear of her going back to the lonely old house until spring, and in tho atmosphere of kind ness and happiness her bruised heart slowly healed. What tended more than aught else to this result was tiie report, soon con firmed, that Doctor Farnham was to marry Marcia Keeling, to whom he hid begun to pay attention shortly after his rupture with Esther. " So it was the misney, after all, that he wanted," Esther thought, with a parting sigh to her broken idol. "I wonder whether George, also, when he asked me to marry him, bad any thought of Aunt Phoebe's money P" The doubt was speedily put at rest, tor long before the first spring flowers were in bloom George had again asked Esther to become his wife. This time she did not say him nay. Not long after he one day came in from the village looking very gjave and a lit tle troubled. "Esther," he said, "I have news for you great news." " You mean perhaps that Marcia and Doctor Farnham are married," said Esther, composedly. "No; though they are to be married in a day or two so 1 have heard. But this is news which concerns yourself alone. You know they are proposing a track lor the new branch railroad from B to L . Well. I have just learned that it is to pass within a mile of our village, and that its course lies exactly through your property the old Keeling farm." "How strange! But, George, it will ruin the place." "Ruin the place!" he repeated, laugh ing. " Why , Esther, it will be the mak ing of vour fortune. The line runs ex actly througtt that long, narrow strip of 11 r - I JII the old larm lana Dy uie river, anu iu is the only u e towhicb it could be put. I heard just now," he added, gravely, " that you will be offered seven or eight thousand dollars for it. They think it a good place for a station between the village and Ashwood." "Eight thousand dollars!" said Esther, with a gasp, " why, I shall be rich !" " Richer than I, and perhaps you will look down upon me." He spoke lightly, but there was some thin of an anxious look in his face. " Oh, George," saro Esther, looking up into his face with tearful eyes, and placing both her hands in his, " I am so glad that I shall have this money so glad for your sake !" And Marcia, when she had heard the news, wished that she had not man Gauvered to get Aunt Phoebe to make that will in her favor. As to Dr. Farn ham, who had given up the woman he loved as much as he was capable of lov ing, for one whom he loved not all his feelings can only be imagined. Years after, when George and Esther, happy and prosperous, were speaking ot the wretched domestic lite of Dr. and Mrs. Farnham, Esther said: " I never feel so crateful to Aunt Phoebe as when I think of that will of hers made to prevent my marrying Dr. Farnham. She understood him better than I." Bore "What time do you retire beeP" Young lady (bored) "Soon as the conupany goes." A Strange Bird. An interesting story respecting the habits, under peculiar circumstances, of the chapparalcock.commonly known nsthe "road runner," is related by a (Jalitornia lady, wtio takes pleasure In I reproducing any interesting matter rc garding the natural neauties of her na tive Ssiate: It appears that a family named Davies, being engaged in olive culture, occupied the "Old Mission" nt Sun Diego, around which is a dense growth of cactus, passing through which, one day, Mr. Davies heard "a strange noise resembling the sound made by a pair of pieeons billing and cooing, winding up with a succession of short, quick, jerky notes. -thus per root! per-root! per-root! The listener searched until he discovered the cause of his surprise, which was a nest of lour young birds of the species Geococ cyx Californianus. lie took them home, and succeeded easily in raising them in a coop, like chickens, the old ones feeding them. Their beautiful plumage soon attracted the a'tention of a number of visitors to the Old Mis sion. The birds were finally released, but they regularly returned at night to the coop and lingered around, becoming satisfied habitues of the barnyard. Two of them died. The two remaining fought until one vanquished the other, which for a while repaired to the cactus, but returned with the nest-making sea son. In the meantime the sole remain ing bird had become so selfish n its attachment to Miss Davies that it be came a nuisance to the household. It would allow no living thing near her, showing its jealousy by darting fiercely at the object of its hatred, pecking it furiously with its sharp bill, whether cat, dog or child, oftentimes drawing blood, alter which it would retire satis fied. For its own dainty consumption it w.uld bring in beetles, bugs, Bpidt rs, and when anything larger was captured tor instance, a lizard: or small snake it would fly to its mistress, strut around her until noticed and petted for its enterprise, during which it coos like a parrot whose feathers are being rubbed down. With the returned mate it organ a nest on a small table by the window in the young lady's room. The nest a most uncomfortable affair, about the depth of a soup-plate was made of large, rough sticks, some of them about ten inches long, which they brought and laid on the outside of the window sill, if the window remained closed, for the occupant of the room to add to the nest, which she faithfully did, andhe nest was soon completed, the inner lining being dry grass and straw. But one egg was laid in this rude nest in its present location, inasmuch as the male one day decided the fate of " household aud home " by bringing to his mate a large gopher snake, which twirled itself around his beak more than half alive, whereupon, with a peculiar nervous sensation, the lady immediately re moved their lodging to the "cold ground " among the cactus, where the birds hatched a promising brood, and again brought them to the house for food like chickens. The young birds are much like young turkeys, and at full size are about as large as half grown turkey hens. The "road runner" t'uriieulary mentioned never forgot its attachment to Miss Davies, and would follow her every where alter its chicks were grown; they only parted when the family le t the country, leaving the birds behind, which they now regret. San Irtancisco Bullttin. Where the Icebergs and Ice Fields Come From. The icebergs come chiefly from Green land, being formed by rivulets, etc. The vast ice fields seen upon the banks of Newfoundland are brought there by the vast currents of the sea and wind. They come mostly lioni the coist ol Labrador, and are parts of tho fields that are formed durin g the long winter in the great bays and inlets of the Labra dor coast. Icebergs are continually changing their line of floating, owing inpaittothe breaking off ot pieces of the upper mass and the melting away of the submerged portion. Their mo tion is always slow, and accidents can rarely happen from them to prudent mariners. They float along the banks of Newfoundland. nd finally, striking the warmer waters of the Gulf stream, soon disappear. The movement of a field of ice is accompanied by much crashing, and is olten obscured by a dense tog, through which rise the tops of the bers. On two occasions during the Arctic cruise of the Juniata, in the Polaris search expedition, that vessel barely escaped destruction by icibpr s. One of these wa3 in the middle of July, 173. During a dense fog at midday, oil' Cape Farewell, an immense berg wan suddenly seen to loom up out ol the tog not more than a ship's length directly ahead. Fortunately the vemsel was run ning at slow speed, and her course was quickly changed, and she cleared the ice mountain by about 100 feet. On another occasion, off Fiskernaes, in a dense fog, another very large berg was seen a little on the port bow, and a ledge of rocks on the starboard bow, not more than 500 feet distant. The engines were stopped and reversed, and the vessel only escaped destruction by a lew feet. Ifiiladelphia Hullclin. About a year before his death some one sent William Cullen Bryant a pic ture of apple blossoms. In acknowl edging it lie wrote: They do not ex actly suit the last days of life's Decem ber, but they agree charmingly with that new spungtime of existence, my entrance to which eannot be far off, and where I hope to find the orchards of paradise in full blossom. "The New York Tribune is experi menting with type-setting machines." It the "leading American newspaper" is as successful in its experiments with type-setting machines ms it lias been in its attacks upon co-operative news papers it may as well send the machines to the nearest junk shop. The Hill of Life We only ask, my heart and I, A little peace, a little Test ; We've traveled lar, my heart and I, And none responds to our request. The hill ot li e is steep and high, And thorns with grassos ntiderlie, We know it well my heart and I. We've had our toes, my heart and I; We've had our lriends, We've had our loves, my heart and I, Where friendship ends. We've bid a hundred loves good-bye, We've seen a hundred friendships die, Aye, that wo h ave my heirt and I. We've met with Bcorn, my heart and I; We've met with praise; When envy let his arrows fly To mar our days. We'd laugh to see them pass us by ; If cunning forged a subtle lie, We would his fiendish arts dely, And toil our loo9 my heart and 1. When beauty, blushing sweet and shy, Would, nnr.ware, Pierce my warm heart with glances sly We'd shun the snare. Old tront avoid ttie angler's fly, And faithless heart would vainly try To separate my heart and I. Now here we are, my heart and I, While far below We hear the murmuring nation's cry, And reap and sow; We've sown and reaped, my heart and 1 And only ask in peace to die. God grant us rest, my heart and I. John Scott. ITEMS OF INTEREST A dear little thing The diamond. "To have the gout is to have the swell " thing. A serious step Out of a second-story window to the around below. ' Where do you hail from?" queried a man of a trader. " Where do you rain fromr" "Don't rain at all," said the astonished Jonathan. "Neither do I hail." A hotel landlord at Indianapolis wears a hat woven of pineapple straw, which weighs only two ounces. It was made on the island of St. Helena, and is valued at $100. The French society for the encourage ment of national industries offers a prize of $00 for an essay on the tools employed in America in the manufac ture of watches. No man can truly say he is happy and healthy, and that he loves everybody, when he owes a year's subscription to a newspaper and has corns. Williams' port Breaifatt Table. Cornell is to have a class in journal ism. A pair 01 two dollar shears and a bottle of gum arabic have already been purchased. The scheme certainly promises well. Atlanta Constitution. New York rays more for tobacco than for bread. Dealers say that there are smokers in that city who average 100 cigars a week, and men whose cigar bills run up to thousands of dollars per annum. When the sad and weary editor isn't ediiins, When a moment througa the day his pencil drops; Then he listens to the sanctum bores a-buz-zing And a-talking of the weather and the crops. OU City Derrick. "I'm afraid you don't like babies w hen they cry," said a matron to a gent le man, as she tried to soothe the darling in her arras. " Oh, yes," said he, "I like them best when they cry. because I've always observed that then they are invariably carried out of the room." Mr. Frederick Tyler, of Hartford, Conn., who is now a little more than eighty-five years old, and is in fair health, can remember see-ng a man who was born in 1600. It was his own Eiandfather, Mr. Tyler, who was born in that year, and lived until 1800, cover ing th3 whole oi the eighteenth century with his life. I would not cause one shade of pain To overspread that face so lair; Ah! no, dear girl, nor would 1 deign To udd a might unto your care. I would not have that lovely hue , Ot features cloudod I y a liowu, Hut duty bids me uuy to you, Vour back hair's all a coming down! The average fisherman has probably noticed that no matter where he may go fishing, whether it bo seven miles or seventy-five miles from towr, the rural resident always assures him that "there are more fishermen than fish around here." And the saddest part of it is that the assertion appears to have foun dation in fact in nine cases out of ten. Borne Stnlinel. Tne Girdle Itouud the Earth. If you send a telegraphio dispatch from Paris it will reach Alexandria. Egypt, in 5 hours; Berlin, in I hour and 3(1 1 minutes; Basle, in 1 hour 15 minutes; Bucharest, in 5 hours; Constanti nople, in 5 hours; Copenhagen, in 4 hours; Cuba, in 10 hours; Edinburg.in 1 hour 30 minutes; Dublin, in 3 hours; Frankfort-on-Main, in 1 hour 20 minutes; Geneva, in 1 hour 15 minutes; Hong Kong, in i hours; Hamburg, in H hours 30 minutes; Jerusalem, in 6 hours; Liverpool, in s5 hours; London, in 1 hour 15 minutes; Madrid, in i hours 30 minutes; Manchester, in iihoura 30 minutes; Npw York, in 4 hours; New Orleans, in 8 hours; Rio Janeiro, in 8 hours; Rome, in 1 hour 30 minutes; San Francisco, in 11 lu.uis; St. Peters burg, in 3 hours; ya'ton, in 11 hours; Southampton, in 3 hours; Sydney (Australia), iu 15 hours; Valparaiso, in 13 h urs; Vienna, in 1 he tir 45 minutes; Washington, in 8 hours; Yokoh ma. in 14 I our-, and Zauribar, in 7 hours.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers