and tail in air.
«frightened.
‘been left afoot on the prairie by a rest-
The Telephone Girl.
¥'m% Central Union Telephone Girl,
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting;
J come when you give your ‘phone handle a
was sleepy.
on the floor rather than in either of
the bunks. My saddle served for a pil-
low, and I lay down with my saddle-
sheets, with much thunder and light-| The Mexican led my horse to the
ning. r
ed a board against it to keep it shut.
The door blew open, and I brac-
By the time my pipe was finished I
I chose to make my bed
blanket rolled about me, soon grew
drowsy, and, with the thunder crashing
whirl, about me, fell to sleep.
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting.
I’m queen of a hundred holes here in a row,
A hole for each telephone number, you know,
And for each of these holes I've a cheery“Hel-
low!”
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting.
} can hear every word that yousay o’erthe wires
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting,
Xven down to the whispers of love's fickle fire,
Ting-a-ling, ting-a ling, ting :
i know all the secrets there are in the town
Where faithless men smile and suspicious wive
frown—
it would take me a year to write the half
down
Ting-a ling, ting-a-ling, ting. {
1
I am just as curious as curious ean be ; !
Ting-a-ling-ling, ting-a-ling-ling,
The face of all my patrons to see,
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting ;
Xf I could but see as I hear o'er the line, |
My nagisdae of things would be semi-divine
And my job I would never, no never, resign,
'ing-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting,
—Calwmbus (O, ) Dispetrh.
THE SCOUNDREL.
Riding homeward late in the morn-
ng, I overtook two men on foot, whe
halted as I came up. One of them
spoke to me. ;
“I say, pard, how fur ahead is Van
Sickle's 2”
I did not like the man. His face
was hard ; the eyes furtive. The shoes
of the two men were worn, their clothes
dusty and travel-stained. Itwas mot
a good sign that they were taveling on
the open prairie unmounted.
“A mile,” I answered.
sight it from the next rise.”
The other man, a swarthy Mexican,
did not look up or speak. I rode on
and left them.
At the home ranch Mr. Keswick was
sitting on the veranda. He was a New
England gentleman, who was spending
some time in the country in search of
a ranch location. I sat down by him,
and we fell to talking.
The two footmen I had passed pres-
ently came up to the ranch and seated
themselves on the edge of the veran-
da, saying nothing, but noting every-
thing about them. The man who had
addressed me on the trail I mentally
named “The Scounrel.” I saw his
eye give a sudden gleam as Mr. Kes-
wick took out his gold watch to note
the time.
At dinner the two tramps ate raven-
ously and silently. Black Jee, the
cook, regarded them with obvious dis-
favor. After dinner they asked for
employment on the ranch. .Joe knew !
the foreman was looking for extra
hands, but he said, shortly, that no men
were wanted. Later, he privately re-
marked to me;
“Dem triftlin’ fellers don’ want work.
Dey’s looking fur to loaf roun’, ’n spy,
‘n steal. You see, sah, dey hab no
hoss, no beddin’y, no gun, no nuffin’.
Dey’s bound to git ‘em all somewha,’
and dey’ll git 'em wha’ dey kin. We
aint fur outfittin’ no sich trash heah.
We fill dey bellies and we gib am
mighty willin’ good-by.”
Shortly after dinner: Mr. Keswick
saddled his horse and rode away to
visit a ranch twenty miles distant.
The two men loitered about a little,
and theo sneaked away in the direc-
tion Mr. Keswick had taken. :
Later in the afternoon I rode out in
search of a horse which had strayed. 1
did not find the animal, and got farth-
er away than I intended. I suddenly
became aware that it was sundown and
that I was a dozen miles from the home
ranch.
As I was about to turn back, a rider-
less horse ran up on the ridge beyond
me, and stopped a moment with head
I saw that it was Mr.
‘Keswick’s borse. The animal seemed
It looked about a moment
—Ilooked back—and then ran on at
full speed.
Thinking that some accident had be-
fallen the rider, I rode in the direction
from which the horse had come. I kept
on until it was too dark to search far-
ther, and then halted. After ali, he
might only have had an experience,not
uncommon with unpracticed riders,and
“You'll
less horse. If this was all, his plight
was encomfortable but not serious. It
meant nothirg worse for him than a
night in the open air and a few jokes
from the ranchmen at his expense.
A night on the prairie, in fact, seem-
ed likely to be my own portion. I was
now at least fifteen miles from home,
oft the trail, aid the night was dark.
But [knew I could not be more than
five miles from the nearest sheep sta-
tion of Van Sickle’s ranch. To this I
determined to go.
I knew the general lay of the coun-
try, and an hour's riding brought me to
the station. There was no light in the
frame shanty, and the empty corrals
showed me that the shepherds had tak-
en their flocks to another range.
As their absence meant for me a
night without supper or bed, I was at
first minded to make for the home
ranch, although my horse was tired.
The elements decided the matter for
me. A drop.of rain fell on my hand,
and others tapped on my hat brim.
The sky had'become black, and, the
rainy season being at hand, I knew that
it had set in for a wet night.
There was nothing for me but to stay
where I was. I hurriedly picketed my
horse on the prairie, leaving him free
to feed to the end of his long rope;
then took my saddle and bridle to the
house, the door of which was unfasten-
ed.
Within, it was pitch dark. TI struck
a match as I stepped inside. To my
pleasure, my eye fell on a half-burned
candle. I lighted this and looked about | Sealed.
me. stop now.
I was aroused by a pushing at the
door, and started up fully awake in an
instant.
“Who's there?” I called.
The pushing ceased. I heard low
voices without. I walked to the door,
and, knocking aside the board that
held it, threw it open. :
The storm had cleared, and I saw a
man standing near the doorway. His
hat was pulled down over his eyes aud
partly hid his face; but [ saw at once
that it was the man whom I had nam-
ed “The Scoundrel.”
“Whose camp is this?”
surlily.
“Van Sickles’,” I answered.
He started, and an exclamation
broke from him: “Aint we off that
cussed place yet?”—He stopped, as if
tearful of betraying himself, and asked
in a different tone.
“Got anything to eat?”
“There 18 nothing in the camp.”
“That's a likely story,” he broke out,
and again suddenly checked his
speech. “I reckon we'll come in out o’
the wet, anyway.”
When hesaid “we” I saw the Mexican,
who had se ‘far kept out of sight. Little
as I liked ‘their looks, I could hardly
refuse them shelter, and stepped back,
saying, “You czncomein.”
I lighted the candle and set it up on
a shelf. The men entered with hesita-
tion, looking suspiciously about them.
The Mexican croached against the
wall, and held bis head low, so that I
saw little of his face, but I could catch
the flash .of his eyes as he glanced
slanting ‘up under his black brows.
The other seated himself on the edge
of the lower bunk and looked sullenly.
When they saw that I was alone their
manner changed.
They asked some question about the
trails and location of ranches, and the
Scoundrel ‘began to grow ugly and
bantering. This temper on his part car-
ried an ominous significance. I felt
plainly that the two men were ‘sizing
me up,” and I wished that I had my
pistol.
We were not a happy company. I
thoroughly distrusted my ill-fayored
companions, and they evidently had
some disturbing thoughts of their own.
However, we all prepared for sleep.
The Scoundrel rolled into the lower
bunk ; the Mexican curled up on the
floor. Both lay quiet and seemed, by
their stillness and heavy breathing, to
have gone to sleep.
I lay with eyes half closed, wishing
for the morning. I saw that the cun-
dle would rot last much longer, and I
had a strange dread of the dark. I grew
restless, and finally got up and went to
the door. The men started and rust-
led at my movement, but nothing was
said. I stepped outside and across the
grass to my horse. He whinnied at
my approach, and raised his head. I
patted him, and stood awhile with my
hand on his shoulder The longer I
stood, the less I felt like going back in-
to the camp.
My antipathy to the men was so
strong that 1 determined to saddie my
horse and ride to the home ranch. |
turned back to the shanty. The can-
dle was not burning,a fact which should
have caused me to hesitate : but enter-
ing, I groped my way over to the cor-
ner where my saddle lay, and stooped
to pick it up.
A sensation of red licht suddenly
filled my eyes, and I next found myself
on my face on the floor, where I had
fallen, struck down by a heavy blow
from behind. The two tramps had
flung themselves on me and were tying
my elbows behind my back. Caught
wholly at a disadvantage, and half
stunned, I could make no effective re-
sistance.
After I had somewhat recovered, I
lay quiet,.s0 as not to incur rougher
usage. As it was, my first instintivg
struggles had gained for me a savage
kick in the head. The men knelt
heavily on me, wrenching my arms
back, as they twisted and tied the
lashing.
Then they stepped back, and the
Scoundrel said in Spanish, Light the
candle, Benito!” I heard the sound
of flint on steel; a shower of sparks
glanced in the dark, followed by a tiny
flame ; then the lighted candle revealed
the house interior, and the two men
looking at me with an expression that
betokened anything but geod-will. They
proceeded to.search me, relling me to
this side and that, to facilitate the ope-
ration. :
They emptied my pockets and sat
desvn to appraise their plunder. They
digcussed the value of my watch, and
the Mexicen opened and shut the dif-
ferent blades ot my pocket kaife, which
seemed to strise his fancy immensely.
They showed ill temper at fiuding so
little money in my pocket-beok, and
the Scoundrel threatened to come over
and kick me. Their humor improved
on finding a whole plug of tobaeco, but
they cursed me for not having more
matehes. Having completed the valu-
ation of my effects, the Scoundrel ad-
dressed me:
“Yer warn’t enjoyin’ yer night’s rest
'n war goin’ ter quit us wishout sayin’
good by. We'll put yer to sleep this
time 80 yer won't git wakeful no more.”
The corners of his thin lips drew back
in a cruel sort of smile, as it the idea of
“putting me to sleep” pleased him.
The Mexican grinned responsively,
with a flash of superb white teeth.
I had little doubt that my fate was
The men had gone too far to
What they had already
he asked,
The interior was bare and unfurnish- | done was a hanging matter in the ranch
ed, save for two bunks, one above the | country. !
their danger, but would help their safe- |
ty by killing me,
“You bring up the horse, Benito,”
I had sought shelter none too soon, , said the Scoundrel, #'n we'll saddle up '
other, and a wooden stool. On the lat-
ter I seated myself, and filled and
lighted my pipe.
They would add nothing to
for the rain was now coming down in fust,”
“door, and they carefully saddled him.
| “Never fear,” said the Scoundrel,
| scowling in at me as he tightgned the
cinch, “we aint a-goin, oft 'n forgit ye.”
The horse stood 1eady to be mount-
ed, and I expected the crisis to follow
without delay. But the two men came
l'indoors, the Mexican holding the end
of the lariat attached to the horse, and
fell to discussing the route they should
take.
The Scoundrel held up my watch
and commented upon it. “I reckon
yer paid the price fur a pooty good
time-piece,” he said. “I don’t like the
movement 'n taint a stem-winder.
Here’s a better one.” He took out a
gold repeater. ‘You've seea it afore.
It’s the one the Eastern chap was
showin’ yesterday. He got lost 'n we
fell in with him ’n left him on the prai-
rie. We caught him nappin’ just as
we did you, 'n T killed him with his
own pistol. I'm. givin’ you these
things ‘cause we're goin’ to take mighty
good care you don’t go tell nobody.”
Benito, his white teeth showing, was
enjoving this badinage, the humor of
which struck him as exquisite. He
put in a word, touching his knife as he
spoke.
“He no tell | No, he no tell! Nev-
er!’
“Yer see that candle?” the Sconn-
drel went on. “There's about an inch
on it left. I'll give yer to live just
while that's burnin’.” He was now
filling my pipe. “It'll low us time fur
a smoke, 'n then we'll finish ye, 'n go
our way.” He lighted the pipe, first
walking over to mee and going through
my pockets to see if there was any
matches that he had missed in his first
search. Ile went back to his seat,
crossed his legs comfortably, and be-
gan to smoke. The Mexican, with a
cigarette, sat onthe floor.
The candle burned steadily down,
measuring out the minutes I had to
live. Benito finished his cigarette and
looked toward the Scoundrel. That
gentleman, whose pipe was drawiag
well, was in no hurry. He had some-
thing further to say to me.
“I seen yer looking at us kinder cur-
‘us at Van Sickle’s,”” he said. “Meb-
be yer’d like to know just who we are.
I don’t mind tellin’ yer, seein’ as yer
sartin to keep quiet. My name is Jo-
seph Outhart, commonly called ‘Red-
dy," 'n my friend here is ‘Mexican Ben.’
We're vallyble men, fur there's a re
ward of five hundred dollars apiece out
fur us, dead or alive. We don’t like
so much public attention, so we're git-
tin’ out 'o the country. By daybreak
we'll be a good twenty miles from here,
'n we'll be in the mountains afore our
friends know which way we've gone.
We broke jail at Canon City just a
week ago. We didn’t have much ont-
fit to start with, but we're gittin’ tol’-
able well fixed.”
The candle burned low. The Scoun-
drel knocked the ashes out of the pipe.
“I’low yer entitled to half an inch
more 'o that candie,” he said, “but
we're in a hurry, 'n I know yer wouldn't
stand out about a little matter like
that, "taint much in a lifetime. We've
no time to waste, waitin’ on yer last
minutes.”
His bantering air left him, his cold,
gray eves took on a deadly glare, and
on his face I saw the instinct and har-
dihood of murder leap into expression,
He reached into the lower bunk and |
took up a heavy revolver which I had
not before seen. The end was at hand.
“Hold the hoss, Benito.”
He looked at me with jaw set and lip
compressed. Ie could not forbear one
remark more: his lips curled in a
fiendish grin, as he said, tauntingly :
“This is Keswick’s pistol, 'n I shot
him with it. Ull send ve off quick, so
you can jine company afore he gits far
on his way.”
The hammer click-clicked as his
thumb pulled it back ; I looked straight
into the muzzle of the pistol. Now—
A yell, a sudden commotion in the
doorway, and a call froin the Mexican
stayed his finger at the trigger and
caused him to turn.
My horse was plunging to escape.
[be lariat was slipping through the
Mexican’s hands as he braced hard
against the door-posts.
“Quick ! quick, or we loose time!”
The Scoundrel sprang to his com-
panion’s aid, but before he could reach
him the rope was jerked from the Mexi-
can, who, in the attitude of a half shut
Jjack-knife, came backward with a jerk
and sat down so hard as to shake
the floor, tripping up the Scoundrel,
who fell over him, so that the two most
unwiilingly rolled about like acrobats.
The pistol banged in the scuttle, and
both men swore shockingly.
hey gained their feet enraged at the
escape of the horse, and ready for a
moment to fight each other. The loss
of the horse would force them to go on
foot. The Scoundrel looked at me.
“T'li do you up, anyway ?”* he said, and
picked up the pistol which had fallen
to the floor.
| They
for an avenging ghost, gave place to
rage and desperation. He still held
his pistol. .
“TErow up your hands, I tell you!”
thundered the sheriff. = “Ah! you
would have it!” Two reports crashed
in the room, followed by a heavy fall,
as both fired, the sheriff an instant the
quicker. The candle was extinguished
by the concussion; when it was re-
lighted it showed the outlaw dead on
the floor. The sheriff was unhurt.
Two of his men brought in the Mexi-
can, who limped between them with a
bullet hole through his leg.
I was soon untied, and told the
sherifl’ the story of the night. Mr.
Keswick was placed in a bunk; his
wound was found not to be serious; the
glancing of the ball on a rib had saved
his life. The outlaws had left him for
dead, but the coolness and rain of the
night had revived him, and, guided by
the light, he had slowly walked and
crawled to the sheep-camp.
The sheriff stood over the dead out-
law, lookiug not ill-pleased with the re-
sult of his shot. “Just as well,” he
said, reflectively. “The reward reads
‘dead or alive.” ”
The early morning saw the sheriff's
party traveling towards town with the
dead and the living outlaw. A wagon
and mattress came later, on which Mr,
Keswick was taken to the home ranch.
In a few days he was well enough to
ride to town, where he completed his
recovery.— Youth's Companion.
————
A Strong Man and Burglars.
Like most very strong men, Salvini,
the great actor, is fond of recounting the
feats ot strength performed by others.
He relates the following of a Venetian
mason and builder, named Luchini,
whose strength was allied to wonderful
presence of mind and coolness under try-
ing circumstances.
Once he was carrying out to a villa he
was building, some miles from Venice,
a large sum of money with which to pay
oft his workmen. He carried the money
which was in silver coin, in a bag over
his shoulder, though it would have tak-
en two ordinary men to lift it.
At night he found himself some dis-
tance from his destination and was
obliged to ‘put up’ at a small inn. He
went to bed, placing the bag of silver
in the bottom drawer of a small chest of
drawers in the bedroom. About mid-
night he was awakened by a rough
shake of the shoulder, and, opening his
eyes, saw by the light of a small oil
lamp two of his own workmen, each of
whom[had in his hand a stiletto, the un-
comfortable sharp points of which were
pressed against each side of his throat.
Luchini grasped the situation instant-
ly and saw that he was ina position
where his enormous strength availed him
but little, so he coolly said, “what do
you want ?”’
“The ' money,” was
“Where is it?”
“Take it,” said Luchini, “it is in that
drawer,” and he pointed to the chest of
drawers.
One of the raffians remained to guard
the recumbent Luchini, while the other
went to the drawer indicated and tried
to open it. It would not budge.
“Give me the key,’ he growled.
“It is not locked,” announced Luch-
ini.
“Open it, then,” said the robber, and,
still with the stiletto at his throat, Luch-
ini arose, and with one hand pulled
the answer.
[open the drawer which the other could
not even budge with all his strength.
At the men’s bidding he then pulled
out the bag of money and threw it on
the floor. One of the thieves then be-
gan to fill his pockets with loose coin so
as to lighten somewhat the weight of
the bag. At the sight of the glittering
coin the other's avarice outstripped his
prudence. Withdrawing his poinard
from Luchini’s throat, he bent down
and burrowed his hand in the pile of
money and began to follow his comrade’s
example.
The lock-for opportunity had come
for Luchini. He calmly stooped for-
ward, grasped one of the robbers by the
hair in either hand, and then spreading
out his arms and bringing them
together within credible force, he
crushed in the two men’s skulls
as if they had been egg-shells.
were dead without a groan.
Hearing a noise at the window, Luch-
ini then looked out and sa 7 a third
scoundrel was keeping watch outside.
Taking up one of the dead men in one
hand, he opened the casement and call-
ing out, ‘there's something for you,”
he pitched the dead robber at the living
one with such force that the man below
was not only scared almost to death, but
was seriously hurt. and limped off as
fast as a fractured leg would allow him.
Luchini went back to bed and calmly
slept till morning.
rr ms aeea————
Ethan Allen’s Moral Courage.
During the Revolution the pride and
the hero of the Green Mountiins was
Ethan Allen, and probably there was no
man living then that had more of the
elements of the popular hero than he.
With all his rough ways and fits of
anger, Allen was a remarkably honest
He stopped—his eyes staring at the
doorway—then staggered backward,
aud, turning away, covered his face
with his hand.
In the door stood Mr. Keswick, his |
face pallid, his hair and beard matted,
his clothes dishevelled. At the same !
instant came a tramping of horses’
feet,
Benito gave one look at the figure in
the doorway, yelled, and plunged
through the window, carrying the sash
with him. There followed a rush of
horses, shouts and shots.
The Scoundrel started up and look-
ed wildly around. He took one step
toward the doorway and again shrank
back. He turned to the window: but |
a man on horseback was guarding the
opening with a shot-gun. Behind Kes-
wick bearded faces came into the light,
| and there pushed by him a quick-moy-
[ing man, with sombrero and spurs,
I holding a cocked revolverin each hand.
He gave a quick glance around, and |
i called, *“T'hrow up your hands!”
\
|
| |
i
| Headded, “I am the sheriff of Dent |
{ county, and I place you all under ar- |
rest,” ?
The Scoundrel’s terror at sight of |
Mr. Keswick, whom he had first taken
man. It is related of him that he owed
a person in Boston $60, for which he
gave his note. When due it was sent to
Vermont for collection. Aller could
not pay at the time, and he employed a
lawyer to secure a postponement of pay-
ment until he could raise the money.
The lawyer rose in Court and denied
Allen's signature to the note, as this
would oblige the other party to send to
Boston for a witness, and give Allen all
the time he wanted. When the lawyer
made his plea, Allen, who happened to
bein the back part of the Court room,
strode forward, and in 5 voice of thun-
der addressed the lawyer: “Mr. Jones,
I did not hire you to come here to lie!
This is a true note—1 signed it—and
I'll pay it! T want noshufling’ { want
time. What I employed you for was to
get this matter put over to the next
Court, not to come here and lie and jug-
gle about it.” The lawyer shrank from
his blazing eye, and the case was put
over as lie wished.
De —
Tue Poraro Crop.—Fears of inconfenience
from a scarcity of potatoes, due to the potato
rot in this State, are lessened hy the reports of
the Farmer's Review, which show that the gen-
i eral crop will exceed that of any other year by
over 17,080,000 bushels. The economic ad-
vantages of railvonds are thus apparent. By
ready means of communication the glut in one
is moved to supply the deficiency in another.
Our Foreign Population.
Interesting Features of the Immigra-
tion to this Country.
The Bureau of Statistics has lately
published a volume showing the arri-
vals of immigrants in the United States
from 1820 until 1888, which presents
very many features of interest and is
well worthy of study by all sociologists.
The Irish were the first people strong-
ly attracted to America, and in numbers
led all nations from 1820 down to 1854.
These tables show very clearly the so-
cial and political conditions of the for-
eign countries which influenced emigra-
tion. The period of Irish agitation un-
der O’Connell marks the increase of
Irish emigration. In 1834 the num-
ber jumped from about 9,000 the year
previous to 25,000. In 1842, when the
repeal of the corn laws was agitated, an-
other jump was taken to 51,000, increas-
ing steadily under the succeeding years
of distress and famine to 105,000 in
1847, 112,000 in 1848, 160,000 in 1849,
167,000 in 1850, and 221,000 in 1851,
the highwater mark of Irish immigra-
tion to this country.
Before 1832 the Germans came over at
the rate of from 1,500 t> 2,000 annual-
ly, butin that year the number increas-
ed to 10,000, and from that time aver-
aged over that number until 1839, when
they reached 21,000, increasing rapidly
until the number reached 50,000, 60,-
000 and 70,000 a year, In 1851 it was
72,000, in 1852, 145,000, and in 1854,
215,000. The highest point of German
immigration was reached in 1881, when
249,672 persons were registered as com-
ing from Germany, and in 1882, 232,-
269. The great increase of German im-
migration Leganin 1846, the time when
Europe was in the ferment of revolu-
tion.
The Scandinavian people did not com-
mence to get interested in this country
until 1843, when 1,748 arrived, and the
number averaged about 2,500 a year un-
til 1866, when it doubled, increasing
largely every year until in 1882, when
87,610 Swedes and Norwegians came
over, and the number annually has fal-
len off but very little from these figures,
1888 showing 65,000.
Up to 1854 the Chinese came only in
very small numbers, but in that year,
drawn by the reports of the California
gold fields, they came in a swarm, 13,
100 arriving. After that time they
came in batches of from four to seven
thousand every year until 1882, when
the first limitation law was passed.
That year 35,614 came over, the greatest
number of any one year. The next year
the number was only 381, and since then
almost none. Only one arrived in 1888.
It was not until 1866 that the Italians
awakened to the fact that their golconda
lay in the new world. Before that time
Italian immigration had been insignifi-
cant, Lut that year it exceeded one thous-
and, increasing year after year until
1872, when 7,000 was reached, and then
almost doubling annually until 1888,
when 47,724 Italians arrived in this
country.
In all, from every part of the earth,
10,465,476 people came to this country
between the years 1820 and 1888. All
were not immigrants, some being mere-
ly travelers, but it is safe to say that
more than ten million foreigners have
settled in this country, and have largely
contributed to the growth, the wealth,
and the glory of the United States.
His Views Were Nipped.
“Great Heavens! but the country is
all ruined!” heshouted as he met an ac-
quaintance on Fort street yesterday.
“What do you mean ?”’
“Why, there was an awful frost last
night. Everything has been killed as
‘dead as a door-nail !”’
“Well, I dunno.”
“But I do. Land only knows what
will become of the poor folks this win-
ter. One calamity follows another at
lightning speed.”
“Well, now, but I have a fine field of
corn, and it is quite ripe and beyond
damage. That’s the case all over.”
“Yes, but—?"’
“And my potatoes are ripe and can’t
be hurt a bit.”
“That may be, but—"
“And a trost like that won't hurt ap-
ples any. It is the usual time o’year to
get frosts, and the crops are ahead of
the average time, if anything.”
“But you don’t seem to realize.”
“Don’t 17;
“No, sir. This morning I went out
and lo! every tomato vine in my garden
was wilted and blackened.”
“I'see. And you had two vines, pro-
bably ?*’
“Yes, four of them, and they are gone
—killed dead. I am no alarmist, but if
we don’t see more suffering this winter
than for years before then it will be be-
cause Providence comes to our aid with
summer weather. (Gone! All gone!
Good day.”
When Washington Laughed.
It has been observed that Washington
seldomed smiled and never laughed.
This, however, is not correct. One in-
stance is mentioned by a gentleman, well
known for his veracity, with a degree of
sang froid. At the time the troops were
encamped at Cambridge, information
was received at headquarters that the
English were about leaving Boston to
give them battle. All was bustle and
confusion. The soldiers were strolling
over the town, and the officers were but
ill prepared for the approaching rencon-
ter. Some of the generals were calling
for their horses, and others for their
arms; and among the rest was Gen.
Greene, at the bottom of the stairs,
bawling to the barber for his wig.
“Bring my wig, you rascal; bring my
wig!" Gen. Lee diverted himself and
the rest of the company at the expense of
Greene. “Your wig is behind the look-
ing glass, sir.” At which Greene, raising
his eyes, perceived, by the mirror, that
the wig was where it should ba—on Lis
head. Washington, in a fit of laughter,
threw himegelf on the sofa, and the
whole group presented rathera ludicrous |
speetacle.—New York Mirror Jan. 11,
1834.
Tne. —————
—A convention of colored religious associa-
tions lately in session in Indianapolis has de-
manded of the next Congress an appropriati
the Blair educational scheme, the steamship
subsidy job, the S
merous ecntemplat
fligacy, there is evidently a general prevalent
opinion in the country that the United States
Treasury is of unfathomable depth.—Record.
Service Pension bill, and nu- |
ed raids of more or lass pro- |
Fashion Notes,
Gloves are in great variety this sea-
gon, not so much in material asin shape
and style.
Despite all predictions to the contrary
the Directoire redinggote will be as pop-
ular as ever.
Many of the new plaidsare in two
colors, and also in several shades of a
single color.
Very striking plaids have a silk sur-
face thrown up above a soft wool foun-
dation, most of them in Madras colors.
Whitesilk and lace parasols have an
air that is not truly rural, but which is
becoming to light and jaunty costumes
revertheless,
A foreign contemporary makes note of
a Directoire costume of stone gray cloth,
on which a hundred yards of real silver
braid had been worked up in designs.
The Watteau flat of fine, yellow Leg-
horn, shaped wide in front and narrow
at the back, with many dents and bends
and a big wreath of flowers is the hat of
the season.
Barbe d2 Cluny is a new lace for trim-
ming dresses. It may be had in black
or white, heavy or light. It has not
straight edge but is scalloped on both
sides.
Black gowns are generally relieved
with touches of color here and there.
Embroidery in soft, dull cashmere
tints is the best thing wherewith to
brighten them.
Waistcoats will be almost de rigueur
with wash gowns this season and are
made removeable so as to let the pretty
silk orcambric skirt now and then come
to the front.
Many ultra-fashionables have com-
plete suits of underwear to match each
costume, either matching the color of
the dress or of the ribbons with which it
is trimmed.
The handsome trained redingotes
made to wear with skirts of different col-
or and stuff, must be lined either to
match the skirt or else with a color in
harmony with it.
The Princess of Wales appeared at San-
down races all in one 3) hat, boots,
gown, and with a straight skirt, falling
without steel pad, puff, ruffle or furbe-
low, to her feet.
A blouse waist which fits the figure
perfectly fias a number of fine plaits at
the back which converge at the waist,
and also on each side of the front. The
collar and belt are also tucked in fine
rows. :
Where well used, trimmings are as
effective as the narrow feather edge ba-
by ribbon so much used upon lace hats
and bonnets. Tt needs light, yet firm
handling, lacking which the result is
fairly appalling.
Of the fifty white stuffs now to be
found on the counters of large houses,
quite the newest and most unique is silk
muslin enwoven with single threads of
white wool, or else embroidered with
the same substance.
He Got the Bill.
A Detroit Tailor Catches His Man in
the Nick of Time.
For a year or two past the collector
for a certain Detroit tailor has been try-
ing all sorts of pacific ways to get the
sum of $13 out of a young man who has
been a debtor for over two years. The
collector has been put off a hundred
times by promises made to be broken,
and he has worked every racket known
to the profession without avail. The
other evening he happened down to the
Third Street depot and saw his young
man buy a ticket for Chicago.
“So you are going west?” he asked.
“Only to Chicago. I'll be back in
three or four days, and then I want to
pay vou that little bill.”
“Yes. Going to Chicago ona visit 2"
“Something of a visit, going to get
married.”
*‘Noi?
“Fact. The ceremony takes place at
1 o'clock in the morning.”
“And you want to be there, of course?’
“I should smile!”
The collector took off his hat, remov-
ed his coat, and was peeling off his vest
when the other asked him what was up.
“I’ve been biding my time, and my
opportunity has come,’ he replied.
“How—what ?”
“I'm going to light into you. Youlare
the bigger man and I expect to be lick-
ed, but the row will certainly cause both
of us to be arrested and taken to the sta-
tion, and you will thus miss your train:
Perhaps IT can black your eve, and in
that case the marriage can’t come off fora
week. Put up your dukes!”
“Say, man, you wouldn’t be as mean
as that 2”
“Thirteen dollars or arow.”
“I'1l pay you half.”
“The whole or nothing.
last and only chance.
putup.”’
The young man took out his boodle
and counted out the amount of the bill,
and while he skipped for the train the
other calmly donned his garments and
left the depot whistling, “I Wonder
‘What My Ma Would Say ?’— Detroit
Free Press
It’s ny first,
Come down or
A Sauerkraut Appetite.
#Well, Mr. Dunderheim how do you
enjoy living et Wauwatosa ?”’
“Oh, pooty well. Tt vas a fine blace,
bud id runs mine sauerkraut bill oop so
high dot I haf to economize my oxpenses
out.”
“Runs your sauerkraut bill up! Why
what the devil is there about the town
of Wauwatosa that should increase the
consumption of kraut in your family ?”’
“Vell,it ain't in Wauwatosa Lrober
dot I'lay de blame, but in the suburbs.
Yousee, ven I go on de train between
Milwankee and my home in Wauwatosa
I hafto pass by dot glue factory, und de
shmell vos so much like dot sauerkraut
dot mein mouth vos make such water
inside und I haf to eat about a bushel of
kraut ven I get home. Dot glue factory
will ruin me yet, for ven I eat so mooch
den mein veif she too gets hungry for
kraut, und God in himmel! a barrel vos
gone before it vahs time to say Shack
| ins » ie pil
of §100,000,000 to promote a project of coloniz- | Robinson. — Chicago Herald.
ing Southern negroes in the west. What with !
Hood’s Sarsaparilla is a purely
vegetable preparation, being free. from
injurious ingredients. Itis peculiar in
its curative power.