Millheim Journal. (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, August 23, 1883, Image 1
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY IN MUSSEITS DUIEDING. Coraer of Main and I'onn Mm., at SI.OO PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE; Or 91.96 if not paid in ndvann*. I Acceptable Correspondence Solicited. : all letter* to " MILLHEIM JOURNAL." At Rest. Ah, silent wheel, the noisj brook is dry, And quiet hour* glide by In this deep vale,where once the merry stream Sang on through gloom and gleam j Only t. e dove in some leaf-shaded nest Murmurs of rest. Ah, weary voyager, the closing day Shines on that tranquil bay, "Where thy storm-beaten soul has longed to be; Wild blast urd angry BOA Touch not this favorer! shore, by summer blest, A l ouie of rest. Ah, fevered heart, the grass is green and deep Where thou art l:iid asleep; Kissed by soft winds, and washed by gentle showers, Thoa hast thy crown ot flowers; Poor heart, too long in this mad world oppre-t Take now thy rest. I, too, prepic.ved with strife of goi d and ill. Long to be sale and still; Evil is present with nre while 1 pray That good may win the day. Great Giver, grant me thy last gilt andbestt Thy gilt ot rest! Sarah Doudney A CHANGE IN FORTUNE. Timothy Bloom, salesman in Mr. Crabbe's big retail dry goods store, \\ as stealthily eating his lunch in a dusty corner amongst some empty packing boxes. It was not a very good lunch, and warm as the day was. he had but one glass of ice-water with it. A very mild, pleasant-looking young fellow was Timothy Bloom, with eyes like a pretty girl's and fair hair parted down the middle: but he was rather doleful at this moment, for, Crabbe, senior, had just been abusing him for permitting a lady who was not to be suited by mortal salesman to get off without buying anything, and had like wise informed him that he had been five seconds late that morning and would in consequence "be deducted an eighth" on Saturday evening. That was not pleasant, and Mr. Crabbe's manner was not pleasant, and the dusty corner and the stale sand wich were not pleasant. And who can wonder that poor Timothy Bloom look ing up at a roAv of decorated corset boxes above his head, and taking his idea from the winged infant pictured upon them, remarked under his breath: "I wish I was a cherub." At this moment, even as the wish fluttered up to the corset boxes, a little boy.-about three feet high, bearing on his bosom a badge with the enormous number 1189, came around the corner, and fixed his pathetic eyes on Mr. Bloom's glass of water. "I say, Mr. Bloom," he whispered, pathetically, "won't you give me just a mouthful of that water? Mr. Crabbe says us cashes ain't to have no drinks, and I'm chokin'." Mr. Bloom smiled pitifully at the child, a forlorn widow's bread-winner, and said mildly as he held out the glass: "Here, Johnny, take halt. I'd let you have it all if we were not limited to one glass ourselves." "Guess water's gettin' dear," said Johnny, eagerly swallowing the share allowed of the cooling draught, but scrupulously careful not to exceed the permission. "Thank'ee. You're a brick. Mr. Bumps hit me a lick when I asked him. Here, have the evening paper. A cus tomer left it on the desk. Save it for me to take to mar when I go home to night. She likes to read the murders, them things—" "Cash 1189!" shrieked a female voice. "Cash! Cash!" "It's Miss Pringle. I must go," whis pered Johnny, and sped away in terror. There were ten cash boys in the store, and they had been numbered high to sound well. Mr. Bloom peered around the corner at the clock, saw he had ten minutes more to himself, and opened the paper. The first thing his eye lighted upon was the advertisement of a fine coun try seat for sale, and he read it through—the description of the stables, barns, bath-tubs, conservatory, veran da, lawn and kitchen gardens; the well, the tiled hall and frescoed ceil ings, as though he intended to buy it for himself that afternoon. Then he cast his eyes upon an ac count of how Mr. Mullen had beaten Mrs. Mullen, and had been arrested for so doing; and then he found him self reading a paragraph to the effect that the heirs of Timothy Bloom, of Lancaster, England, if living, might hear something to their advantage by applying to Jones & Johnson, street. "My name," thought Mr. Bloom at first. Then, with a start, he remem bered that he had heard that his grandfather was named Timothy. Cer tainly, he came from Lancaster, Eng land. His father, David Bloom, had been an only son. He was an only son himself. Well, then, he was Timothy Bloom's heir, if it should prove that the Timothy Bloom mentioned was really his grandfather's name. "But, oh pshaw!" said Mr. Bloom, "This sort of thing couldn't happen to the iUlllirim Journal. DEININGER & BUMIULER, Editors and Proprietors VOL. LVII. ma It's some other Timothy, not poor old grandfather." And he copied the address of Jones A .Johnson into his pocket book and went back to his counter quite calmly, though he wrote to Jones & Johnson that night However, wonders will never cease. When Tim Bloom, the nieeke. t of all young men. went home that Saturday evening with a "deducted" salary and a scolding, he found Mr. Johnson him self in the boarding- house parlor, ami an examination of the family Bible in his possession, and of a certain bundle of yellow letters that Mr. Bloom had more than once decided to bum, but had fortunately spared, settled the mat ter Half a million of money had come to him in the regular course ot nature, and he was richer, not only than Mr Crahbe, but than any of his most fashionable customers. It w as a wonderful surprilse tol ittle Tim Bloom, and he scacelv grasped the idea at first. Even after he had told his chief confidant, his landlady's pret ty granddaughter, Mehitabel White, a pretty, pink cheeked, capable damsel, called Hetty for short—he only went so far as to think of a pair of patent leather boots and a diamond cravat pin. Iletty waked him to a full realiza tion of his changed condition bv say ing. rather seriously, and looking away from him: "Of course, grandma's won't suit you any longer. Mr. Bioom, and you'll have to go back to Crabbe & Co.'s again." By George! I never thought of it; so I shan't," said Tim Bloom. "Xo more counter jumping for me; and if Mrs. White will let me hire the back parlor, I'll take that. Go away ? Xot I. Xot yet; it's too soon," said Hetty to herself; "but he'll go us soon as he quite understands." "Let me congratulate you, my dear Mr. Bloom, "said Mr. Crabbe, bowing, as he parted from the departing clerk, as he did to carriage customers at the very store door. "I always felt a su periority in you over the other young men. I said to my daughtc-r Belinda the other day: 'lf it were not for giv ing offence to others I should ask Mr. Bloom to our little evenings. Some thing of the prince in disguise about him, hut an employer has his duties. They sometimes make his heart ache, but he must perform them.'" Mr. Bloom remembered the placard over the water cooler: "Caches not al lowed drinks;" "a cash who drinks de ducted one-half." and thought that if Mr. Crabbe really had a heart this must be true. Tim Bloom was a rich man; but he had no rich friends as yet. The clerks at Crabbe & Co.'s had been always quarreling among themselves, and he had not known one in private. The boarders were not "sociable." He treated them to ice cream several times, and took Hetty White to a con cert or two. He improved his mind in libraries and museums, and set up a bookcase of his own, into which he put a misce laneous assortment of volumes. When one day he received a perfumed envel ope, inviting him to a lawn tennis par that Mr. Crabbe's country seat, he felt that the dissipations of the wealthy had just begun for him. lie accepted it, of course, and went attired in per fect style, and looking very well in deed. He returned bewildered. Miss Crabbe was very handsome. She play ed and sang and danced and was "styl ish." She had set her cap for him, and Mr. Crabbe—yes, actually Mr. Crabbe —bad plainly allowed him to see that he would give his consent to the match. "Two months ago he called me a stu pid idiot. Two months ago he snubbed me whenever he spoke to me," thought Tim Bloom. "Yes, this is the old story; everybody, everybody, even old Mrs. White flattering and cringing for my money. I wonder whether Hetty is the same?" And in the seclusion of his own apartment poor Tim Bloom actually cried; though Mr. Crabbe call ed that evening and took him to a charming stag party, where the guests were principally in the dry goods line, and in every direction one's ears caught the remark, "sold a bill of goods to a man." "You rascal," said the excellent father, on the way home, "1 see you are afraid to speak, but I knew you couldn't keep your eyes off my Belinda last Wednesday." "Could I hope for your consent if she—" "My dear boy—ha! ha! ha! Why ask her and see!" cried Mr. (,'rabbe. "It has always been the wish of my heart, even when you were a poor clerk, and she (don't you say I told you) always admired you—always!" At nine o,clock one night Mrs. White's door-bell rang and a messen ger boy handed in a letter—a big letter with a big seal and "immediately" on It What could It be? Something about the property, of course. Mrs. White carried It herself to Mr. Bloom's room, and as she handed it in, she saw him seated beside a table on which stood a tray of delicacies. Mr. Crabbe was at supper with her boarder. "Excuse me," said Timothy. "Oh! certainly," said Mr. Crabbe. Timothy opened the letter, read it, littered a deep sigh and passed it t<> Mr. Crabbe. Mr. Crabbe read it and turn i t d pale. "l>o I understand it?" said Timothy, i hiding his face. "Your lawyer says the property is no longer yours; that your gramlfath j er was not the right Timothy Bloom, and that the real heir will demand a restoration of what you have spent al ready." "Yes. I was right," said Mr. Bloom. "But, Mr. Crabbe, after al', I shall do : very well. I can go back to your store, J and Miss Belinda has quite a little 1'OT : tune of her own. Weean still be linp py. Mr. Crabbe leaped to his feet. "Sir! sir!" he said, "this is a great piece of impertinence, sir. You havn't spoken to Belinda." "But you assured me—" began Tim othy. "I didn't!" shrieked Mr. Crabbe. "At least, 1 was mistaken. I came here with the intention of telling you upon my word and honor that she can't en dure you; and as for the store, you are a most incompetent salesman. There is no situation open. Sorry for you, but—good-night. Good-night." "Good-night," said Timothy. Then, as the door closed, he took up the letter and carried it to old Mrs. White, who with Hetty as assistant was seeding raisins for next day's pud ding, sitting one on either side of the drop-light in the dining-room. "I shall have to give up the back parlor," said poor Timothy. "And as for my half-hall bedroom, 1 don't know how to pay for that, for Crabbe won't take me back." "Time-serving *old wretch!" said Mrs. White. "Xo matter, Mr. Bloom. I'll tr ist you. Intentions being right, I neve} will l>e hard on my boarders, and you can keep the parlor until it is hired, because it's more comfortable." "And try to keep up your spirits," said Hetty, "for, after all, money isn't everything." "It seemed tx> sudden to last," said Mrs. White. "1 never trusted these lawyers." the good souls comforted him, and atter a while, when he asked Het ty to take a little walk with him, she consented. There was a little park on the oppo site side of the street, and though the gates were locked, they walked around its railings. Their talk was long and earnest, and at last Tinothy said: "Well, Hetty, poor as I am, will you promise to marry me some day?" And she had answered, "Yes, Tim," very simply- and so it was settled; and for a young man, recently reduced from affluence to poverty, Mr. Bloom certainly looked very happy as they went home together. But it was only after Mrs. White had given her loving consent to his marrying Iletty when they had enough for bread and butter, that he made confession: "I can't keep it to myself any longer, grandma. I wrote that letter myself. I'm as ricli as ever I was, and I've test ed my friends. Old Crabbe has proven false and vou have proven true. I felt sure about Iletty all the while; and when we are married, you must cotne and live with us, and there will be no more hard work and boarders for you in this world, you dear old soul." No Show For Him. All hands had been telling long stories of what they had done and would do in the event of a smash-up on the road, with the exception of one little man, who had listened attentive ly to the narratives, and taken them all in without a word. "Ever been in an accident ?" asked the patriarch of the party, noticing the little man's silence. "Xo," replied the little man, quiet ly- "Then you have no idea what you would do in the fracas?" continued the patiiarch. "Xo; I don't," replied the little man, sadly. "With all you big heroes blocking tip the doors and windows in your hurry to get out, 1 don't exactly know what show a man of my size would have!" And then there was a deep si lence, so deep you might have heard a cough drop, and the little man was troubled no more about the pos sibility of accidents.— Wall Street News. A sheep pasture in Dimmit and Webb counties, Texas, comprise 300,- 000 acres and feeds 300,000"sheep. It is believed to be largest, in the world MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 23,1585. A PAPtR FOR THE HOME CIRCLE. TUB FAMILY DOCTOR. RUHIIUM AND Hlocp. Sleepless j>eople—and they are many In America—should court the sun. The very worst soporific is laudanum, and the very best, sunshina There lore it is very plain that poor sleepers should pass as many hours as possible in the sunshine, and as few as possible tn the shade. Many women are mar tyrs, and yet they do not know it. They ■dint the sunshine out of their houses and their hearts, they wear veils, they carry parasols, they do all possible to keep off the subtlest, yet most potent influence which is intended to give them strength and beauty and cheer fulness. Is it not fjme to change this, and so get color and roses in their pale cheeks, strength in their weak backs, and courage in their timid souls? The women of America are pale and deli cate ; they may be blooming and strong ; and the sunlight will be a po tent influence in this transformation. HoniMllr Nurgrry. Cuts must le treated according to their position and severity. If a fin ger or toe is cut, bathe or immerse it in cold water until the blood ceases to flow, washing out all dirt and foreign substances that have entered the cut. If it is deep, notice how the blood flows ; if it is dark and oozes from the cut slowly, only a vein is severed and it is not serous but will soon heal if kept from the air. But if it is of a bright scarlet hue and spurts out in jets, an artery is severed and a doctor must be called at once. Meanwhile a ligature must he tied above the cut. and the thumb pressed down and held upon the artery to prevent loss of blood. If the skin gaps from a cut. draw the edges together, apply a piece of sticking plaster over the whole sur face, and put the linger or the thumb of a kid glove over the finger it it is the injured |*art. If in a little while I the wound throbs painfully, cover it thickly with the vaseline with a few I drops of laudanum stirred into it. and. ■if needful from severe inflammation, put on a poultice of flaxseed boiled in a little water with a few drops of laud ; annul. But vaseline alne possesses j great healing powers for all kinds of wounds, boils, inflammations and abra i sions of the skin. As long as the first i dressing of a cut remains firm and it | does not throb or burn, it should not be touched. An outer clean cloth can he added, but let the inner one alone until the wound is healed. Cuts on , the head are apt to be dangerous and I require much (are. The hair should be cut off all around, and arnica plas ter put directly over the wound. Tigeon Houses on the Nile. A correspondent visited some of the many pigeon houses erected near the river, which from their towering, con ical form, never fail to attract the at tention of travellers on the Xile on coining to Cairo by rail. These breed ing places consist of nothing else than an enormous number of red earthen ware vessels, closely resembling medi um sized flower pots placed in a circle, with the mouth inward, and tier upon tier is raised with the assistance of the tenacious Xile mud, until the cone is completed and the dome covered in, a few light branches of trees being intro duced on the outside of the fabric be fore completion to enable the pigeons to perch and rest themselves at times. Hawks and other birds of prey, not to say cats also, annoy and often destroy the pigeons here, and consequently a trap-door is fitted to the place about half way up the building, and worked by a couple of ropes which reach down to the ground. These, on being pulled by the natives at dawn, allow the pig eons to sally forth and feed gratis dur ing the day in the adjoining fields or a little farther off if food is scarce at hand, and soon after sunset, when the pigeons are all back again, the trap door is let down for the night to the exclusion of all intruders. There is a long upright pole in the center of the building, with cross-pieces of wood on it to serve as a ladder, upon which the owner mounts when he wishes to catch the birds or clean out the place; and owing to the facility for keeping pig eons in Egypt, it is not to be wondered at their being found always in the market, and at very moderate prices. It is not altogether, however for the sake of the birds that the people breed them on a large scale, but it is the ma nure, which is prized for agricultural purposes, especially for raising melons in spring; and often a fellah who has no pigeons to depend upon will send a donkey and boy with a couple of large baskets across the animal's back through the country to buy up all the manure he requires by going from house to house, even where only a few pigeons are kept, paying two shillings for a quantity that would barely fill a bushel measure. SANTA FE. Aipocti of thta Old Nw Mexican Town lis A<tol>o Houses. Six In the evening is a good hour at which to reach Santa Fo. The cool, pure air, descending straight from a cloudless sky, the peaceful streets, running off like alleys stretched apart a little, and tho sheltering rim of mountains, whose sides the sun is warming with purple and red, inspire a feeling of relief and comfort. One need not hurry to mount a 'bus to avoid contact with the groups of black hooded native women and low-browed men w ho gather at the incoming train* for they huddle like timid sheep, but it is plea ranter to look at them from a slight elevation, where you wonder if their faces might not be set in an adobe wall without any one detecting the counterfeit. A roomy American frame hotel is one of the welcome inno vations in the old town. Just now it docs a thriving business, as it needs to do to offset two years <>f steady drain age of the purse of its proprietor, who put a small fortune in it with the idea that people would flock to enjoy Santa Fe's unsurpassed climate if they could be sure of enjoying it comfortably. The scheme went aglev, and the white haired landlord waited vainly for months for enough guests to keep up expenses. From the spacious balconies one may overlook the town and region as far as the mountains. Long lines of mud walls define the streets, and a window or doorw ay cut here and there shows where the wall is partitioned off inside into a dwelling. Near the hotel are isolated houses, usually ul one and one-half stories in height and quite broad, occupied mainly by the white tradesmen whose shops sur round the plaza, or public park, in the center of the town. The common height of houses is a single story. Nearly every structure in town 's of adobe, although some of the shops and some of the residences of the well-to do are coated to resemble stone or brick. The prevailing tint, however, is brown, like cakel mud. Builders mold the mud, which is of clayey na ture, into brick-like shapes, which harden under the sun. Then the mouldings are piled up nine or ten feet high, perhaps, and of a thickness varying from three to four feet. The cracks between the layers are stuffed with a mixture of adobe and straw. which acts as mortar and cement. When the walls are finished, young tre s, like bean poles, but thicker, are stripped and laid across as the basis for rHfs. Courtyards are not uncommon. Wherever they occur the street door opens on a hallway, which leads, after a few feet, into the yard. The dwell ing in such cases faces the yard, and there are apt to be no windows or other openings from it on the street, Adobe seems to be as impervious to the weather its stone. Army otlicers say it makes the warmest houses in winter and the coolest in summer of any material within their know ledge. A walk through the town at even ing furnishes a commentary on the loose moral condition of society. It is certainly within bounds to say that in one-third of the bouses surrounding the plaza, and on San Francisco street for a block from the lower corner of the plaza, open gambling goes on nightly. Concert-saloon attractions are in some instances introduced to bait visitors, who enter to find one side of the room a bar and along the opposite wall gambling tables a few feet apart. When the games are. not going on right under the nose, a print ed card directs the way to the hack room. This is the case in the saloon through which until lately was the only entrance to the hall in which the atrical performances are given, when •ever a company ventures so far. There happens now to be also a side door to reach the theater without going through the saloon. At a table in one of the resorts a gaudily-dressed young Mexican woman presides. There are private gambling rooms in the same neighborhood frequented by tradesmen and military people. Tho officers formerly had a club, where sal aries were transferred oftener than pay-day warranted, but it was luckily broken up, and there is no likelihood of its revival. On almost any of the streets leading off from the plaza are dives quite as pernicious as the gam bling houses. Many of them are dance houses, and there nightly are held what are known as bailes (bisle), or balls. There is no admission charge, and visitors have the privilege of se lecting their partners without formali ty. After each dance all hands march to the bar. Beer is the common drink on such occasions, and twenty-five cents a pony is the price of it. The French have taken a railroad idea from America. One company ha* a system of dinner cars on its line. Terms, SIOO Per Year in Advance. CHIMIRKN'S C'JttMß. A Hlaa In at mil of a Blow. Rev. Edgar Buckingham relates in the Springfield Republican this anec dote of Theodore Barker's days of school-teaching: "He had among his scholars a little witch of a boy, whom no reproof and no persuasion could in duce to keep himself in order. One day, after his more than usually troublesome conduct, Mr. Barker re quired the litlle fellow to stay after school to be whipped. So the time had come for this last resource of the ex hausted patience and skill of the teacher. According to directions the boy held out his hand for punishment, and as he took it, Mr. Barker said, he looked down into the little face, and boy looked so much like his little sis ter whose conduct was all right, and who had won Mr. Barker's love—he stayed the rod, and stooped down and kissed the innocent lips th.it were ready to break forth into crying, and sent the pupil home. It is probable that he was a worse boy after that? Somebody knows who this boy was; man, if living now. 1 wish we could learn from him the effects upon his life J of that kiss of Mr. Barker's." "Hotlty-a-by Baby In Tree Top." After a great wind-storm in Texas, a storm that carried otf the roofs of houses, tore trees out of the ground, and did a great deal of damage, some men started out to see if anybody was hurt. This is what one of them tells: It was night, and quite dark in the woods, when they heard a cry. They stopped to look about and listen. They heard the cry again and then they saw same dark thing up in a tree. ! -It's a panther," said one. "Stand off! I will shoot it." 1 "No, stop," said another; "it is not a panther. I will climb up and see what it is." Up he went; and what do you think he found lodged in the tree? A cradle with a dear little baby in it. The uind had blown down the baby's home. It bad carried off baby, cradle and all. The cradle Mas caught bv the branch of a high tree. Then i the wind blew against it so hard that the cradle wedged in a crotch of the tree. It was so fast that the men had to saw away the boughs to get it down. There was the dear ( baby all safe and sound in its cradle- I nest. One I.tttlr Nffd Many days have passed since this little incident, but its lesson is one which 1 trust I have never forgot ; ten. 1 was crossing the ocean aboard the good old ship Antoinette. Boy-like. I made friends with the several officers of the vessel, and when they were off duty my pleasure was to listen to their tales of the sea. What won derful stories they had to tell!—of queer cities and strange people, of storms and calms, of dangers through which they had passed, and then, too, i of their happy homes far away, and 1 their longing to be once more sur rounded by their families. What an eager listner I was! And many and many a time have I, with one or the other of them, laid stretched out on the deck, gazing upwards, shaping in to familiar pictures the fantastic clouds that lloated overhead, while the splashing of the M aters on either side sounded soft and pleasing to my dreaming brain. One day the first officer had just come off watch, and as he stepped into his cabin he found me already there. I chatted awhile, and finally in rum maging through his chest, I fell upon some old-time daguerreotypes. This Mas his son, that his daughter, and here Mas a picture of a woman of al ready maturer years. Eager to dis play, I presume, my familiarity with the world—and how much our younger generation is addicted there to!—l at once exclaimed: "And that's the old woman I suppose." I saw at once my mistake. A cloud spread over the sun-broMned face; but soon it passed away, and a rough, rugged hand Mas softly laid upon my shoulder, M'hile a voice al most distressing to me it Mas so gen tle, said, "My little friend, that is my wife, the mother of my children; of course you meant nothing, but let an old sailor tell you, never speak but in the gentlest words of those whom men should honor. A woman in my eye is a holy thing; remember my ad vice." All the rest of that day I felt like one M r ho had done a wrong, but after wards the sky seemed brighter and the air fresher, than ever. Perhaps the little seed that rough, old "steuer mann" had sown fast flowered into beauty. There are in Boston 69 women taxed over $1,00,000, five over $500,- X) 0. and two over $1,000,000. I NEWSPAPER LAWS. If Mibpcriber* order the discontinuation of newßpjipers, the pnbl whoiß rony continue to pond them until ell nrreariwt** are paid. If subscribers refuse or neglect to take their newspapers from the office to which they are pent, they are held responsible until they have settled the bills and ordered them dis continued. , If subscribers move to other place* with out informing the publisher, and the news- Sapers are sent to the former place of resi ence, they are then responsible. _ | ADVUvflafKO ftAffcJ: i 1 wk. 1 mo. I Bmop. I Bmop. 11 fmM | pqnivr ft 00 f 300 f •00 $ 4 g $9 99 £ rolnmn iOO 800 13 00 10 00 J 08 i r^nmn U >1 ' I I Om inch imlm* * pqniiTP. Admtwlrpfom saf • i mrutcTp' Votioop sl.lO. Trntont w!rt4PPmpnU *n Um'mlm 10 r,put iwr Una forfrnt auwrtiwi ana # ooaw par i lino lor each additional inaartion. NO. 33. The Music of the Rata. Falling, tailing, on the house-tops. With a music quaint and rare, Like the sound of lmmnn heart-throbf On the silent midnight air, Or the tears of angels falling When they wcp with those who weep, Or the lullaby of mothers When they rock their babes to aloep. Like the drowsy wine of poppies With its weird, enchanting power, # Coming to the weary listener Like the dew to drooping flower; Liko calm Bleep to thoao who softer, Or like tears to those who monrn; Like remembered words of loved ones • From our aching bosoms torn. Strangely sweet, bewitching music, All enthralled iny senses lie, As I watch the mystic Future With the shadowy Past go by, While a calm and holy quiet Steals ujK>n my heart and brain, Then 1 fall asleep, still listening To the murmur of the rain. So, mayhap, some time hereafter I i-hall lay me down to rest, Overweary, and shall listen For the music I loved bee'; Wlu-n its gentle cadence falling \ Through the midnight silence deep, Sofily soothes my troubled spirit, While it lulls me into sleep. When, at last, my soul has fallen Into sweetest, glad repose, That on earth sunthine nor shadow No awakening ever knows— Like the voice of waiting angels, Or the vei-p'-r bells in toll, May the soltly falling raindrops Chant a lequi- m lor my soul. —Abbe JTinn*. PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS. A man Mho marries a frivolous flirt "gives to airy nothing a local habita tion and a name." Shakespeare M ould never have asked, "What's in an aim?" if he had been hit on the head Mith a brick. Talk about despair. You ought to see the face of the boy M hen the circus tent blows doM-n just as he has paid for his ticket. If a great big man calls you a liar treat him M ith silent contempt. Do not, however, make your contempt too conspicuous. Scotch minister: "John, John, I'm afraid you are on the broad road." In ebriated parishioner: "WeeL minister, as far as I'm concerned, the breadth is a' required." Mrs. Summerbreeze's new girl was told to M atch the turnover a few min utes; when the lady returned the turn over was burned to a crisp, and the girl remarked, "Sure, I've M-atched it, mum; but it hasn't turned over yet." A little boy and girl were discussing the stars. The little boy said they were worlds like ours and have people on them. The little girl, with all the dis dain she could muster, said: "They are angel's eyes, 'cause I saw them Mink!" A French lion tamer quarreled with his M ife, a powerful virago, and was chased by her all round his tent. On being sorely pressed he took refuge in the cage among the lions. "Oh, you contemptible coMardl" she showed, "come out if you dare!" V A little girl stopped in the midst of her play, one day, clasping her hands to her neck as she felt a sharp pain there, exclaimed, "Oh! oh!" "What is it, dear," said grandma, "a stitch in your neck?" "Why, gran'ma," she asked, Mith a terrified look, "are our heads seM'ed on?" New fork Fire Engines. The New York Herald thus de scribes the movements of men and horses connected with the fire-engines of NeM- York when an alarm of fire has been struck: The engine stands in the engine house ready for the road. So does the tender. The horses are in their stalls. The men are lounging about or sleeping. The alarm strikes. In a twinkling all are at their posts. By a curious contrivance the hammer that strikes the warning gong sets in operation a system of cords and levers that unfasten the horses. The men come down from their sleeping or sit ting-rooms, not by stairways, but by a pole, to the lower floor. They are all ready in a twinkling. And what of the horses? They generally outstrip the bipeds in responding to the call. The hammer which releases them and strikes the gong, sends them an alarm they at once interpret. Standing or lying, they are out at once and beside the engine-pole. There is no harness ing, no adjusting of belly-bands and squeezing of collars and fastening of reins. The new 'swing' harness used in the department is a complete caparison, which is suspended by an ingenious apparatus above the spot where tne horses take their places. Close the open collar with a snap, pull a rope M'hich lifts the suspending apparatus, and they are equipped and read) for the road. The door swings open, every man is in his place and away goes the engine. %