Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, July 19, 1883, Image 1
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY IK MUSSER'S BUILDING. rrnfr of mud Porb 8t. t SI.OO PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE; Or tl. If ■<* f*Ut ta mltum. Acceptable Corropdince SettdM, (OTAddrM •11 letter* to " MILLHEIM JOURNAL." HalMVaj! Hare you forgotten where we flood Between the lights, that night of Spline, The river rolling to the flood, So sad the birds, they dared not sing? No love was ever dreain'd like this, Beneath the shadows of the park, Between a v InVper hiul a kiss, Between the dnyiight and the dark? There had hen trouble—this was rest; There had been passion—this was peace: Tho Minaet dying in tbe west Made Nat m o sigh and whispers cease, 1 only felt what 1 had found, Yon only knew what I would sny; But no: lung broke the penee profound Between the darkness and the day! How will it end? I cannot tell; I ssked it many months ago. Before the leaves ot Autumn fell, And eliaiig'd to Winter's waste of snow. Yet we stand watching at the gale Of summer tim > lor promise—haik? No love, 'tis nothing! we must wait Between the daylight and the dark! Clement Sioti. A BITTER CUP. Mr. Martin had just come in to tea. It was one of those sultry summer evenings when the leaves hang stirless ly on the trees, and the dull electric fires blaze along the east, foreboders of storm. It had been very hot all day, the farm-hands had lagged at their work on the lowland meadow, and all the world's wheels seemed to revolve as if hey were weighted. Mr. Martin was #ery tired, and, withal, a little cross. Perhaps Mrs. Martin was tired, too. She, poor soul, had been up since four o'clock in the morning. She had wash, ed, taken care of four cows' milk, pre pared three meals for the hungry farm hands, been up in the quarry woods to search for a family of ad venturous young turkey-chicks, sooth ed the sorrows of a teething baby, and mended up the suit of clothes which Betsey Blim, the tailoress, had declar ed "not worth a needleful o' thread!" because Thomas, her husband, had said that "willful Maste was wof il want," and that there was a deal of wear in the suit yet, if only there was a stitch taken here and there. But her cheek was pink and her eyes sparkling when Thomas came in, for all the heaviness in her heart and the dull pain in her hack, for little Esther had come home from boarding-school. Esther, the youngest sister of all, the darling of the family circle from which Mrs. Martin came—the pet for whom they all had scraped and pinched so that she, at least, might have a "Boston education." And Esther sat in the window-seat, grown into a blooming young woman, with bronze-brown hair lying in fluffy masses over her fair forehead, porcelain, blue eyes, and a dress all trimmed with ribbon hows, "Look, Thomas!" cried Mrs. Martin, excitedly; "it's Essie! Essie come home two days before we expected her!' "Yes, I see," said Mr. Martin, in the cold, measured tones which always dampened his wife' 3 enthusiasm like so many drops of freezing water. "How do you do, Esther? Ruth, what are you putting cold chicken on the table for? Corned-beef is plenty, lam sure. You had a great deal better gave the chicken for the men's break fast. Working folks have hearty appetites." "Esther is fond of cold chicken," whispered Mrs. Martin. "And—" "No one need want anything better than good corned-beef,"' judiciously pronounced Mr. Martin, "Put the chicken back into the pantry, and the apple jelly with it. Good stewed goose berries are relish enough for anybody. We must economize in little things as well as large ones, if we don't want to end our days in the poorhouse." And Mrs. Martin sorrowfully obey ed, While Esther watched her brother in-law with large, grave eyes, betoken ing inward surprise. At the end of a week, Mr. Martin addressed his sister-in-law with serious purpose. "Well, Esther," said he, "you've been here a week now." "Yes," said Essie, "I've been here a week." "A week is a good long visit," re marked Mr. Martin. "It's long enough for some things," said Essie. "Mrs. Martin thinks she would like to have you stay," went on Mr. Martin, after a puzzled glance at the blue, shin ing eyes. "And although, of course, every one adds to the expense in a family like this, I've no objections to giving you a home, provided you are willing to earn it by hard work. And—" "Stop!" cried Essie, jumping up, "I haven't asked you for a home yet. And I don't mean to. And you are only making me the offer because Doctor Dorian says Ruth will break down unless she has a strong maid servant to help her with the house work. But there is no money that flic flUilllwim Journal. DEININGER & BUMILLER, Editors and Proprietors VOL. LVII. would hire me to make myself such a drudge as poor Ruth is." " Hoity-toity 1" said Mr. Martin. '*Voting woman, you don't consider who you are talking to." "Yes,l do," said Essie, with emphasis. "To a Bluebeard, to a stock, a stone, a man who is grinding his wife's life out on the pitiless wheel of money making. No, 1 wouldn't live as Ruth does, not if you would put me in a palace!" Mr. Martin grew green and saffron by turns. "Humph!" said he. "Fine.ideasyou have got at this fashionable boarding school of yours. Well, if you don't like my otl'cr, you're not obliged to accept it. He a line la-ly, if you please, and see where it will land you." Byway of answer, Essie marched out of the room with all the dignity of a royal princess. i>ho only stopped in the kitchen long enough to kiss Ruth, who was in the midst of a baking. "Poor darling," said she, "How I wish I could carry you off with me. For stay, I won't!" "Life is hard work. Essie," said Mrs. Martin, beginniitg to cry, in spite of herself; "and it's a woman's duty to help her husband." •And I mean to help mine when 1 have one." said Essie, blushing bright ly. "But not by wearing myself out." Mr. Martin shook his head. "If Stephen Smith is foolish enough to marry that saucy gipsy, she'll lead him a pretty life," said he. "I wonder if she expe; ts to sit 011 a satin sofa all her days, with a rose in her hand, and her hair frizzled, in that preposterous fashion, all over her eyes? But I warn 'em, they need never come to me for help! Esther has treated me with too much insolence for me ever to receive her again," "I am sure she did not mean any thing." said Mrs. Martin, apologetically. "Well, then, her words belied her meaning," remarked Thomas Martin, grimly compressing his lips. But Stephen Smith was apparent ly undaunted by the possibilities of ruin predicted by Farmer Martin, for he married Ksther and went to the city to live, within three months. "1 give 'em just a year to come back here and eat humble pie!" said Martin, vindictively. "Oh, Thomas; don't talk so!" said his wife. "One would think you would le glad to have some evil befall them!"' "And so I should," said viciously grinding his teeth together. •'That girl needs a lot of humbling, and I hope she'll get it." Three years afterward there came one of those terrible droughts that undo a farmer's life-work in a sea - son, and sweep away his prospects as an autumn wind sweeps away a sere forest. The cattle died, a pestilence broke out among the Hock ot sheep, which Tlwrnas Martin had just bought; a high wind blew his best barn over, and disaster stared him in the face on every side. "It's no use talking," said he. "I cannot meet this year's interest on the mortgage. The place will have to go." "Oh, Thomas!" groaned Mrs. Martin, who, poor soul, now lay all day on a hard wooden lounge, and groaned to see how wofully she was needed at the helm. "I can't help it," said Martin. "Everything is against me." "It's only five hundred dollars," said Mrs. Martin. "You might borrow it." "Who'd lend to me, I'd like to know ?' said Martin, remembering with a sigh how he had hardened his own face against every humble suppliant in the golden days of his prosperity. "There's Esther's husband," suggest ed Ruth. "I've heard that he's doing well in Boston. And, after all, Esther's my own sister." Mr. Martin's features contracted into a hideous grimace. Of all the bitter cups which circumstances had held to his lips of late this was the bitterest. But it had to be swallowed. There was no help for it. "I didn't suppose Smith's folks lived as genteel as this," said he to himself, as a neat maid led him across an octagonal vestibule, floored with black and red marble, and fragrant with flowers, under the golden fringe of an antique portiere, into a large, taste fully-furnished room, where the sing ing birds, the open piano, the low satin sofa all betokened no lack of money. Yes— Mr. Smith was at home. He had not yet gone to the store, and pres ently he came in, waving welcomes to the man who had married Essie's sister "Lend you a thousand dollars ?" said he. "Of course we can lend you a thousand dollars. What is money for if not to help each other with. Oh, yes. We've a snug little sum laid up in the bank, and we live very comfort ably. My business? Yes, it's tolera ble, but it never got us all these things," glancing at the soft arabesques of the carpet, the graceful folds of the crim son silk curtains, and the easel filled with proof engravings. "That is my wife's doing." "Eh?" said Mr. Martin, staring around him. "Yes," said Smith, with a certain, quiet satisfaction. "F.sSie is an artist, you know—a designer. She invents patterns for the paper-hangers and up holsterers. They are glad to pay her fifty dollars a week." "Fifty dollars a week!" exclaimed Thomas Martin. "Why that's more - fifty dollars is, 1 mean -than poor Ruth made hv all her poultry lor a year. Well. 1 never!" In all his life he had never respected Essie as he respected her now. "She has money laid up," said Stephen Smith. "And if she's the girl I think she is, she won't grudge it to help her sister's husband in a pinch." (Jail and bitterness gall and bitter ness! But, thought poor Martin, with a sigh, how was Stephen to know ;;11 that was come and gone? Essie's light step, on the passage way, sounded at this instant; and she came in, dressed in a picturesque brown linen blouse; her hair still shad ing her forehead, like a fringe of floss silk, alter the old, graceful fashion. "Yes," she said brightly, when hei brother-in-law's errand was stated to her; "Of course you shall have it. 1 owe you as much its that, 1 think, Thomas, were it only to erase from your memory that last scene of our parting. Ilow defiant and insolent it was, to-be-sure!" and she laughed the sweetest of mellow laughter. "But I insist upon it still, that my theory was correct; a woman can work, without becoming a drudge." "Perhaps she can," slowly and un willingly admitted Thomas Martin "perhaps she can! But it didn't use to be so, in my mother's days." And he sighed to think of poor Ruth, broken down in the meridian of her days, by the cruel necessities that drive the wife of an American farmer to her doom. Was it his own fault? Per haps it was. Essie's thousand loan was the straw which saved him from figurative drowning. He paid the interest, bought a new flock of merino sheep, and weathered the storm. And the next year when Essie came to the farm to assist her sister, for the First time she found Ruth sitting on the piazza, and watching the little jambs play in the sunshine with listless, heavy eyes. "Yes," said Ruth, "I can't work any more. But Thomas is very kind. He don't grudge the hired girl's wages* and he is always saying he wished he had taken more care of me in the old times. But it's too late now. You were right, Essie, when you said you wouldn't stay on here, and help with the housework." "Yes," said Essie, fondling the thin hand, which lay on the arm of the rocking-chair, "I think 1 was right."—- Helen Forest Graves. The Viceroy and the Baby. A characteristic anecdote is related of the late Lord Lawrence, when as the new Viceroy of India, he was re turning to the country in which his best years had been passed. He was in bad spirits, partly from sea-sickness; partly from the lack of friends and con genial natures around him, partly from the feeling of the heavy responsibilities which lie had assumed in comparatively weak health. A ladv was returning to India with her infant child, which she utterly neglected, and the baby took its revenge upon the passengers generally by squalling day and night alike. They complained in no measured language to the authorities, "Steward, throw that baby overboard!" was the cry which came from many a tempest tossed and sleepless birth. But the nuisance continued unabated. At last the new viceroy, perhaps he saw in the child, half-unconseiously, a slight re semblance to his lost Bertie, gave it a large share of his attention, and would take it for hours together on his showing it his watch and anything that would amuse it. The child took to him, as he to it, and to the great relief of the passengers was always quiet in his presence. "Why do you take such notice of that child ?' Asked one of them. "Why, to tell you the truth," said the viceroy, "that child is the only being in the ship who 1 can feel quite sure does not want to get anything out of me, and so I take pleasure in its society." How much of the kindliness and simplicity of a great nature is revealed by this simple story. Areial Trips. Two successful aerial trips have been made by M. I'ompeieu with an elongated balloon, and on the second ascent a change in the course of the air-ship was obtained by simply mov ing a rudder with which it had bee provided MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 19, 188.1. SCIENTIFIC.SCRAPfI. Jupiter's spot, on which the earth would only make a small patch, is growing fainter. In France wonderful results ar being obtained in the work of vaccinat ing live stock against disease. M. de Lesseps states that the evapo. rating power of the sun is less on the site of the proposed islam! sea of the Sahara than on tho Reel Sea, and he does not anticipate that tho waters will dry up. M. Taechini lias succeeded in observ ing the solar prominences upon the very disk of tho sun. By enlarging the opening of his spectroscope he ha! been able a few times to recognize on the .edge of the spots these grand eruptions of hydrogen and the un. known substance helium. The camphor tree has recently been introduced into California and promises well. It resembles the laurel some what. It grows well all along the coast, and one tree at Sacra in < nto h;is already attauicd a height of thirty feet It is easily propagated from seed oi cuttings. Besides producing the well known drug, the tree is valuable as timber. A non-conductor of electricity ha? yet to be found, for all substances hitherto discovered are conductors of the force under certain known condi tions, but those which oiler a great resistance to it serve the purpose of non-conductors in practice, although they may all be either classed as good or bad conductors. The best con. doctor known as yet is silver. The woist conductor is parafline. A Boj'r Sermon that Suibl By. It was the first effort he had ever made to speak in public. It was in a union praise mcetiiig.tollowing a great revival, in a college town. The bo\* f Mushing and agitated, yet, wishing to add his word of advice and thanksgiv ing. abruptly: "My dear brothers and sisters, 1 hope you will all take hold; and when you get hold, keep hold." The youth was so confused, that he repeated the same words over and over, apparently unable to stop, or to catch a new sentence. Some of the young people, who had religion, but were not oil enough to have pity or consideration, began to laugh, when a big hearted man (none other than Brother Ben. Bristow, of Covington), struck out with the always appropriate ejaculation, "Thank God!" and then, with that great melodious voice of his, began the hymn —"Am I a soldier of the Cross?" Fending this inquiry the youthful disciple sank, red and perspiring, into his seat. I am uncertain whether any honest effort is fruitless. That poor lad thought, no doubt, that that was a failure. I have often wondered whether he ever tried it again —whether he did "keep hold." The talk of the college professors and the ministers of the evangelical churches assembled in that union meeting have faded from my remembrance entirely, but the poor boy's wretched exhortation remains at least in one heart. The flowers of rhetoric may decorate the Gospel fabric, but add nothing to its strength, nor can golden glint of man's frsthetic upholstery make more grateful the shadows of the great rock in a weary land.—Cin cinnati Commercial (lazette. Selecting n Horse. The Turf, Field and Farm , than which there is no better authority on the subject says: In buying a horse, first look at his head and eyes for signs of intelligence, temper, courage and honesty. If had qualities predominate in a horse, education only serves to en large and intensify them. The head is the indicator of disposition. A square muzzle, with large nostrils, evidences an ample breathing apparatus and lung power. Next, see that he is well un der the jowl, with jaw-bones broad and wide apart under the throttle. Breadth and fullness between ears and eyes are always desirable. The eyes should be full and hazel in color, ears small and thin and thrown well forward. The horse that turns his ears back every now and then is not to be trusted. He is either a biter or a kicker, and is sure to he vicious in other respects, and, be" ing naturally vicious, can' never be trained to do anything well, and so a horse with a rounding nose, tapering forehead, and a broad, full face below the eyes is always treacherous and not to be depended on. Avoid the long legged, stilted animal—always choos ing one with a short, straight back and rump, withers high and shoulders slop ing, well set back, and with a good depth of chest, fore legs short, hind legs straight, with low down hock, short pastern joints, and a round mui* ish-shaped foot A PAPER FOR THE HOME CIRCLE. A BABY. He Writ! Down Town Willi lirndp*i but Won't t.o Any HI ore. Grandpa loved the baby. The babv Is three years old, with the prettiest big blue eyes, the plumpest, reddest, cheeks, the dearest, dimpled mouth, and the cunningest Ways in the world. Baby has sturdy little legs, and rest less, strong little arms, and is an exam, pie of perpetual motion. Baby's grand pa accompanied him on various walks, but grandpa's ambition was to take baby down to the store, where the hoys could see what a phenomenal child he is, and what cunning ways he has. One morning grandpa dressed baby up, and when he started away with grandpa he looked, with his wavy golden hair, bright eyes, and little brown eloak, like one of Kate Green way's creations imbued with life. When the passengers in the ear smiled at baby and remarked how sweet he was, grandpa was happy, and chuckled as he thought of the enjoyment of hav ing baby with him at the store. Once at the store, baby was the centre of an admiring crowd of grandpa's business companions. Baby was shy at first. f and one fat list was pushed into the little mouth, while baby's eyes were cast upon the lloor. Pretty soon, though, baby regained his usual spirits and started on a tour of investigation. His lirst venture was to pull over a lot of ledgers and account-books that hail been undergoing an investigation, and on top of this pile be poured the contents of a big bottle of violet ink. Pursuing his investigations further, baby found himself in the ollice where the brightly varnished safe, with its impossible landscaj es. at once attract ed his attention. The heavy iron door was closed, and baby, by standing on a chair, could just reach the combination knob, the brightness of which had caught his eye. lie played with the pretty knob, turning it round and round ever so many times, and laugh ing to himself. But the man who came to open the safe, and who was in a dreadful hurry, didn't laugh, for the lock had been worked for years on a part of the combination and babv had destroyed it completely, and three hours were required to find it again Out in a back room baby found a ham mer and some tacks, and Idled some ; new desks full of pretty tin tacks. Then following the promptings of his busy little mind he pulled a piece of string to see what was on the other end of it. There was a mantel orna ment belonging to one of the boys on | the other end, and when the baby I pulled the ornament tipped over and was shattered. Baby was frightened at the muss he had made, and hid him self in a box that SKNMI on end near the door, and that had been used to hold soft coal during the winter. Grandpa found him there, but in what a plight 1 His little face and hands and his beautiful white dress were be grimed with the nasty coal-dust j( Irandpa brushed him off and washed ! his face and hands, and made him somewhat presentable, after which he set him down In a big chair, and told 'him to set still. Baby sat still about a minute and then slid down out ol the chair, and wandered away into the back 'room, where he suddenly spied a little dog curled up asleep on the top of a box. Baby stood on his toes, got a ; good grip on doggy's tail, and pulled- The dog woke up. And the next min ute baby's little legs were working for tlear life as he fled towards grandpa's quarters. Grandpa met him, kicked .the dog, and quieted baby, tried to patch up the places in baby's dress •where the dog's teeth had made ragged Tents, and began to club himself for bringing baby down town. Finally baby capped the climax by upsetting on himself a ran of lard oil, and grand* pa quit work for the rest of the day wrapped the babv in thick brown pa ! per, tied a string around him and took him home. It will be some time be i fore grandpa will take his pet down town with him again. Baby had a good time, though. The Great Pork Speculator. F. D. Armour is of sturdy Scotch Presbyterian stock. He was born-in one of the central counties of New York, on a farm among the hills. It was the highest ambition of his boy hood days to earn money enough to buy the farm adjoining his father's. When the gold fever broke out he was still a mere stripling; but, full of youthful enthusiasm, he started for California, driving a wagon across the plains and mountains. He remained there three or four years, and in that time saved a few thousand dollars, lie had cash enough to buy that farm and settle down. He had no sooner ' reached home than he experienced a I sudden revulsion of feeling. The ! streets of the village looked narrow, cramped and dull; the house appeared j mean and dingy. He only remained OU the farm two or three days, and Termra, $1 00 Per Year in Advance. then betook himself 1" f in< .nii;it i Later he drifted to M.lwaukee, and at the close of the war lie sold a great lot of pork at $lO a barrel, ami bought it again at $lB to $lO. rea'izing a profit of about a million. To-day he ranks as the wealthiest man in Chicago, being rated by those who know something of his business at $25,000, fMMl or 00(1,000. His transactions arc o lossal. His firm employs between 5,000 and (>,OOO men, and on bis pay rolls are j about fifty men who redeye salaries of ss,<mm) and over. He is not yet lifty live years of age. 5! ASSAt ItE OP TilE CAMN ES. Itcmorselres lVnvr* Kngnlf h Jojc* Who lla i r no Home*.—*critrt nt tte Voik I'oniid. A New York reporter ile eribes the method i v which the unmuzzled dogs aught in the streets are killed at tho pound, on the E;tsl river. Ninety-two dogs were disposed of on tlie day of the reporter's visit. During the fore noon a number of people called at the pound to claim their animals lost the night before while dissipating on the streets. While the weather was yet in that uncertain state between a heavy downpour of driving rain and a sepa ration of the clouds for the admission of sunshine, an old gentleman in a lin en duster and a tall hat, with a blue gingham umbrella in his hand, was de. scried by the keeper peering anxiously over the outer wall. When questioned he admitted that he was in search of "Frank," who had mysteriously disap peared from home. It required a good deal of persuasion to induce the old gentleman to enter the door over whose portals might be appropriately inscrili ed, "Who enters here leaves hope be hind." Once inside, he kept very close to the side of the keeper and was very reluctant to survey the pens in which a number of restless and protesting dogs were confined. Finally, when half-way tlnough the yard, he recog nized his pet spitz shut up with half a dozen ragged and dissipated-looking canines, among whom he was lolling in utter ignorance of the fate he was barely escaping. He sprang about the | pen in great delight when he saw his master, and when the latter had paid the $1 necessary for his redemption, he accompanied him up the street with his tail elevated in triumph at the suc_ cessful rescue. While a dozen or more were saved from an unhappy fate by thoughtful masters, the others did not fare so well. About two o'clock in the after noon a large iron cage four feet square was wheeled into the inelosure, and the door unlocked. A number of d<>gs who had watched the proceedings with tongues protruding through the bars of the pens evidently began to suspect the approach of it violent death, for thev set up a lugubrious j.rrbug. and communicated their terror to their ■ companions. In an instant the yard resounded with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. A black and white spitz was first seized by the legs and thrust' into the cage, lamenting the error of his ways at the top of his voice. A poodle followed him with ! piteous yelling protests, and then half a hundred curs of mongrel breed were ' sent to join their company. The spitz seemed to resent his forced companion ship. and engaged at once in a pitched battle with a big yellow dog. whom he : drove into a corner, where he licked his wounds and howled dismally for succor. When the cage was tilled it was wheeled along a short railroad tra k to the water's edge, where it was attach ed to a large crane. An executioner j stood at the crank, and when the sig" ' nal was given, he let go his hold and stepped back upon the platform. The cage swung out over the water and de scended amid yells of rage, cries of fear and barks of derision. As it be gan to sink the dogs fought desperate ly for the upper places, and it disap" ; peared with the disreputable spitz at the top of the cage, battling tiercely with a black-and-tan who disputed his supremacy. A choked wail floated over the white-capped waves, and the checkered career of the unfortunate canines came to a sudden and unex pected termination at the bottom of the East river, amid the sea-weed, peb bles and fiishes. After the lapse of a few minutes the cage was raised and the wet, limp bod ies thrown into a waiting cart. The unhappy dogs who had witnessed the . departure of their comrades from their pens in the yard were then taken out and treated to a similar exit. One of these that wore a huge Spinola collar snapped viciously at every dog as he was put into the cage. Another went at his antagonist savagely, and they sank beneath the restless waters locked in a fierce and passionate embrace. When the pens had been emptied the carcasses were taken to Barren island where they will be boiled down and converted into soap and phosphate. NEWSPAPER LAWS. If subscribers order the discontinuation of newspapers, the publishers may continue to semi thom until ell arrearages are paid. If subscribers refuse or neglect to take their newspapers from the office to which they are sent, tliev are held responsible until they have settled tho bills and ordered them dis continued. , If subscribers move to other places with out informing the publisher, and the news papers are sent to the former place of resi dence, they are then responsible. .. APVF.KTIKINU RATES: " I wk. I 1 Tno7~| 3m os. t (Imnj, My**' I ■rmnrt* *1 Wl i i 3 110 ? .1 SI t 4 "0 I IS:::::; S\ <rwl ml • P . ," n . aon I s 00 1 13 WI 20 00 M W i i oliinin .: *<' l 12 0" I '!". I 36 001 sn. w On* iwh make)* BTinro. Adminmtrstorii and K*,, tenter*' Notices #3.60. Transient sdrorl laments spd locblb 10 cent* per lino for flrat insertion *n<l o cenU per !iue for each additional insertion. NO. 28. To a Daisy. Woo, little rimless wheel of Into, With silver spokes nttd huh of yellow What gentle pirl, in nccents mellow, Has sought your aid lo find ft mate? Who Kfmpt. your olender spokes apart, Each one some d?fti acquaintance noining? And who was he —the loved one, claiming Tho choicest chamber in her heuit? 0 tiny hub of golden hue, Kisi by her fingeia' tender pressing, Still yet, mothinks, die's vainly guessing It what you prophesied were true. You died between her finger 'ips, Sweet gypsv rnaid of wisdom magic; I'ray, is it worth a death so tragio To hear the mitsio of her lips? —F. 1). Sherman in the Century. PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS. It never perspires but it pores. The provincial press—a cider mill. The czar .will last a long time. He is bound in Russia. A summer resort.—Borrowing our neighbor's lawn mower. A man whose best wonts are always trampled under foot—A carpet manu facturer. "No, sir, said the pa c sengd o> trie ship's doctor, "I'm not seasick, but I'm deucedly disgusted with the motion of the vessel." When a man aoes not get up with the lark in the morning, the presump tion is that he was out on a swallow the night previous. Harper's Bazar says "a widow snouid be married in a bonnet." Ilarper is "poking" fun at the widows; of course they prefer to be married in a church. With the man of to-day life is a pa thetic, heroic and unavailing struggle against baldheadedness. It is a waste of time, money and ointment to strive against it "May 1 leave a few tracts?" asked a traveling quack doctor of a lady who responded to his knock. "Leave some tracts? Certainly you may," said she, looking at him most benignly over her specs; "leave them with the heel to ward the house, if you please." An Englishman shooting small game 1 in Germany remarked to his host that there was a spice of danger in shoot ing in America. "Ah," said the host, "you like danger mit your sport? Den you go out shooting mit me. De last time I shoot mine brudder-in-law in da schtomack." "Well," remarked a young M. D. just returned from college, "I suppose that the next thing will be to hunt a good situation, and then wait for something to do, like Patience on a monument." "Yes," said a bystander; "and it won't be long after you begin before the monuments will be on the patients." Trichinap. This word—the plural of trichina, ; has its accent on the second syllable, it is from a CL:k word meaning 'Eair'' an<l is the name of the hair-like worms sometimes found in the human mus cles. The word "spiralis" is generally attached to it, and refers to ner in which the parasite lies curled up in his tiny capsule. When fully grown, it would take eighteen of the males, placed end to end, to make an inch. The disease to which they give rise—.at first often mistaken for muscular rheumatism— i called trichiniasis, sometimes trichin j iasis. It was not. until 1835 that the para site was found in man. During the next twenty-five- years it was proved that there was a connection between the disease in man and that of a hog; and in 1867 the parasite was found in the muscles of the latter. AVhence the hog has derived it is an unsettled question. As long as the hog lives the parasite remains dormant in the animal, like the chrysalis of the butterfly. But ; when the hog's flesh is eaten, the tiny capsules then are dissolved by the di gestive juices, and trichinae are set free. A single meal may introduce many thousands of them—over a million* says one writer—into the stomach. Tttus introduced they live from five to six weeks in the intestines, each one producing meanwhile a brood of at least one thousand five huijdred. The latter soon migrate towards the mus cles, following the course of the blood ! vessels and nerves, and reaching their goal about the tenth day. Here, in five or six months, they pass into a sort of chrysalis condition, to be freed from it only by the gastric juices of some other being; Similar migra tions may follow, wave after wave More or less, however, are swept out of the intestines, possibly to find their way back to their ancestral home in the swine. The trichinae have been found in ev ery land. They have also been detect ed in the cat, dog, rabbit, rat, mouse, marmot, the wild hog of Europe, and even in the hippopotamus.— Youth'a Companion.