EE ET SS CTT SAI FH TE EL rE LT RS
SE PIT
Bellefonte, Pa., January 31, 1890.
HAPPIER DAYS.
1 said to the little children,
You are living your happiest days,
And their bright eyes opened wider
In innocent amaze,
For their happiness was so perfect,
They did not know it then
Oh, no, they, said, there'll be happier days
When we are women and men.
1 said tothe youth and maiden,
You gre living your happiest days,
And into their sparkling eyes there crept
A dreamy, far-off gaze;
And'their hands sought one another,
And'their cheeks flushed rosy red ;
‘Oh, 'no, they said, there’ll be happier days
For us when we are wed.
I said to the man and woman,
You are living your happiest days,
.As they laughingly watched together
Their baby’s cunning ways.
These days are days of labor.
They can hardly be our best;
‘There'll be happier days when the
dren’s grown
And we have earned our rest.
chil
1 said to the aged couple,
You are living your happiest days ;
Your children do you henor, .
You have won success and praise.
With a peaceful look they answered,
God is good to us, that’s true ;
But we think there's happier days fer us
In the life we're going to.
MY HUSBAND'S “WIFE.”
Myself? 2
Oh, no. Although I married him
~gome six months ago, .I have maver,
save one day, imagined that title ibe-
longed to me. :
Cyrus Howe came to Erie ayearago
to conduct a great law suit, being both
talented and handsome, he mot only
won his case, but his way into the best
society. o ‘
Noone knew aught of his private
history, but his success satisfied ‘the
masculine portion of the eemmunity,
so the women had no cause for com-
plaint. He was invited everywhere,
and in time became a visitor at -eur
house.
His attentions were marked from the
first, and ere I had known ‘him six
months I had married him.
I had no father to counsel me, and
was too headstrong to heeil mother’s
entreaty to wait until I knew more of
the man, ere I linked my life with his.
I was twenty-two and had never
been in love before; and he was about
thirty and said I was his “only love.”
So we married on an equal basis, at
least I thought so then.
His business in Erie was long since
concluded, so that we were married in
the morning and took an eerly train for
Rochester, N. Y., where his home was.
What that home was like was a ques-
tion with me, for he would tell me
nothing aboutit. I enjoyed the ride,
for he paid me all sorts of lover-like at-
tentions, and seemed wonderfully hap-
py at having won me. But he never
calied me his wife, and itwas not long
ere I discovered the reason why.
When we reached home, T found it
one of the handsomest residences in the
city, and beautifully furnished.
A sweet faced, white-haired little old
tady met us in the hall, andl was intro-
duced as “mother.” Shekissed me af-
fectionately and bade me welcome. I
put my arms around her neck and re-
turned the kiss, saying I knew I should
love her dearly.
Happening to glance up, I saw, Cy-
rus’ face wore an expression of strong
disapproval. His mother saw the look
also, and it affected her strangely. A
painful flush suffused her dear old face,
and I saw her hands were trembling as
she turned away, I was #0 surprised
that I stood stock still, staring at my
husband.
“Do not be rude, Esma,” he said im-
patiently.
“I beg your pardon,” I answered,
and followed his mother inte the par-
lor, wondering what it meant.
The remainder of the day passed
Plogtiny Cyrus showed meover the
ouse and exerted himself to be enter-
taining.
In the evening a great many of his
friends called. I was pleased with
them all, for they were people of cul-
ture and refinement. Cyrus was pleas-
ed with the way 1 had acquitted my-
self, and told me so, as we mounted
the stairs to our room after they were
all gone. “Truly my lot is cast in
pleasant places,” was my thought. “I
must tell her how little cause she has
for misgiving,”
I had seen her chamber before but
in dusky, half light. Now it was
brilliantly illuminated, and the first
thing that attracted my attention was
the portrait ofa beautiful woman, hang-
ing on the wall at the foot of the bed.
I stood and scanned it curiously, its
cold, proud, stately beauty chilling me
most unaccountably. “Who is this
woman, Cyrue ?”" I asked at length.
“That is my wife.”
He was busy rummaging a trunk for
some thing, and has since owned he
answered unthinkingly.
I do not know how long Istood there,
_ filled with horrified amazement.
“If you have looked at that picture
long enough, Esma, I'wish you would
come and untie this knot.”
I turned and mechanically did his
bidding.
What's the matter? Your hands
are like ice,”
“Do you think your mother has re-
tired 2” I asked, disregarding his ques-
tion.
“I think not, IT heard her voice a
moment ago."
“T am going to see her a moment
then,” and I turned toward the door.
“Nonsense. At this hour. My wife
never did such a thing.”
I had hesitated, but the last words
decided me.
“You can console yourself with
thoughts of your wife during my ab-
sence,” and I darted away.
site side of the hall, and a cheerful
“come in” answered my knock. She
looked surprised when she saw who her
visitor was, but bade me a smiling wel-
come. I closed and locked the door,
then standing befor her asked the ques-
tion which was maddening me.
“If that woman, whoee portrait hangs
in our chamber, is Cyrus’ wife what
am 1?
“You are his wife, my dear, for that
poor woman has been dead for three
years,” there was an infinite pity in
the kind voice, and tears in the dear
old eyes,”
“Why did he not tell me he had been
married 2” >
“My dear, it ill behooves a mother
to speak ill of her son, but you find he
does as he pleases, with littie regard for
right. Iam truly sorry for you my
dear. Do you love him, my child?”
“I did,” IT answered gloomily.
“Do not speak so despairingly, dear.
You sre his wife, and must make the
best of it. He will not beat you for he
is kindness itself. He will only harrow
your soul night and day with assertions
of what “my wife” did or did mot do.
He has exaggerated ideas as to how a
woman should deport herself at home
or abroad, and has an annoying habit
of remarking on what ene does contra-
ry to his code.”
“Was his wife uacommonly per-
fect?”
“No more so than a thousand oth-
ers.)
“Mother, I can neverdive under such
a condition of things.”
“I wish I could devise some way to
break him of it.”
I sat silently, busily thinking for
some time. Then sprang up laughing
merrily over the idea I had just con-
ceived.
“You darling little mother,” I cried,
kissing her tenderly. “I shall cure
him, never you fear,” and away I
sped.
I found Cyrus reading a paper, and
it was rather a discontented face he
turned to me.
“I must say, Esma, my wife never
did such a silly thing as this, in all her
life.”
“I dare say not,” I answered cheer-
fully, as I waltzed across the room to
the dressing table, and began removing
my jewels, “And Harry never did so
foolish a thing as to sit up and wait for
me if I chanced te leave the room a
minute. Why didn’t you go to bed you
silly boy 2”
I watched him furtively in the glass,
and came near suffocating in trying
not to laugh at the expression his face
took on at the words. I hummed a
merry tune and never glanced his way,
80 when he suddenly grasped my arm,
I uttered a well counterfeited cry of
alarm.
“I declare, Cyrus, how you startled
me. Harry never did such a mean
thing as that. I quite trembled.”
“Who is Harry ?”” he demanded.
The expression of his face almost
frightened me into giving up my plan.
But the memory of his coldblooded
“that is my wife,” spurred me on.
“Why didn’t mamma tell you? Oh,
I thought you knew,'’ and I sank upon
a chair in a frightened manner. “Oh,
I am so sorry mamma didn’t tell you.
Harry was my husband, poor boy.”
How Cyrus ever came to believe such
a monstrous deception, I cannot under-
stand. But having made me the vic-
tim of deception, I suppose he never
thought to question my assertion. He
stood staring dumbly at me and I could
almost have pitied him.
“Shall I show you his picture?’ I
asked. picking up my album which
had been unpacked.
“No,” he thundered. “Never speak
his name in my hearing again.”
Turning, he abruptly left the room,
and I did not see him again until break-
fast. He merely bowed without speak-
ing, and left the house soon after with
a murmured excuse about business.
Dear mother Howe had looked in pain-
ed surprise at such an exhibition of
“wedded bliss.” When I recovered
from the fit of laughter his vindictive
slam of the outer door threw me into,
1 explained matters.
Her sweet old face lighted up, and
she laughed in eoncert, as she express-
ed a belief that the plan would succeed.
He returned at dinner time quite his
genial self, and we gpent a very pleas-
ant evening. I eaw be had set a guard
upon his tongue and acted according-
ly. His mother's face reflected our hap-
piness, aud I thought the evening
would end without anything disagree-
able happening.
I little knew how strong his habit
had become, however.
I was sitting at the piano when he
crossed the room for something, and in
reply to a question from his mother, I
heard him saying.
“You know how my wife did. Her
way 1s good enough for you.”
I am willing to believe that he did
not mean to he unkind, but when I saw
the pained look on the furrowed face,
I made up my mind to pay him in full.
A few minutes latter he dropped a
page of music he was turning for me,
and I saw my chance.
“I declare, Cyrus, Harry never did
such a bungling thing as that in all our
married life,” and I brought my fingers
down on the keys with a discordant
crash,
“I declare, Esma, I could almost
pity him,” declared the dear, soft heart-
ed little mother.
“So could I,” I answered, “but not
just yet.”
I was afraid I had carried the mat-
ter too far when I heard the outer door
slammed again; but he appeared at
breakfast quite cheerful, but looking
worn and a little haggard.
Things went on in this way for seve
ral weeks. I was miserably unhappy,
ard knew he was also, but I would not
giveup I knew I was worthy to be his |
wife, and deserved better than the place |
of “second fiddle,” which he had forced
upon me from the beginning. But it
became almost more than I could bear
and I made up my mind I'd go home
|
|
{
to my mother and give up the struggle.
I was sitting alone in the dusk, won-
. Mrs. Howe's room was on the oppo- dering how I could bring it to pass,
when he came and flung himself weari-
ly down upon a low seat at my side.
“Fsma,” he said, “do you care for
me at all ?”
“You know I do.” I answered, pass-
ing my other arm about his neck.
“Then, dear, let us make solemn
compact to let the dead rest in their
graves. I was to blame in hiding my
former marriage from you. But I lov-
ed you so much I feared to give you up.
Your mother was to blamein your case.,
So let us try and be happy.”
I cried a little, kissed him, and
agreed to govern my conduct by his,
So we have lived in something hike
harmony since. But he had set him-
self a mighty task to break up a habit
which was the growth of years.
“He had many a lapse, but the word
“Harry” is sufficient to prevent a
speedy recurrence of the fault.
I have not heard the offensive phrase
“my wife” for several week’s now, and
I think I may soon safely assume the
title as my own.
But what will he say when he finds
out as he must sooner or later, that
“Harry” is a myth.
How Grady Got a Start.
Amos J. Cummings in New York Sun.
It was in the winter of 1886 that Mr.
Grady told me his early newspaper ex-
periences. He began to use his pen
soon after the war. The South, how-
ever, was so poor that he put for New
York in search of a living. He had very
little money with him. After register-
ing at the Astor house he went over to
the Herald office to look for work.
Thomas B. Connery, late secretary of
legation to Mexico, was then managing
editor. He received the youthful Geor-
gian with his usual urbanity. The con-
versation turned upon the political sit-
uation in Georgia. Grady laid bare the
inside of Georgia politics. It was soen-
tertaining that Connery invited him to
write an articleupon it. Theinvitation
was promptly accepted.
Over to his rooms at the Astor house
sped the young journalist. He turned
on his literary faucet, and in less than
three hours the article was completed.
It filled nearly two columns of the Her-
ald. The style was quaint and dashing.
Interest in the subject was first adroitly
fastened. After that the reader uncon-
sciously absorbed all that was said, and
was sorry when the end was reached. It
was with the utmost joy that Grady saw
the article in the Herald in the morning.
His funds were low. It meant a new
supply of money. The sky of his intel-
lect was aglow with hope. After break-
fast he crossed the street. He knew lit-
tle about the hours of morning newspa-
pers in New York. He reached the Her-
ald office at 9. a. m., and remained there
six mortal hours before Mr. Connery en-
‘tered. The editor greeted him cordially,
and even vouch-safed a few words of
praise over his work, but said nothing
about payment therefor.
The Georgian was too modest to hint
at his nesessities. He beat around the
bush a while, and finally returned to the
Astor house much downcast. After
paying his hotel bill he had barely
enough money to take him back to At-
lanta. He had no friends in New York,
and he dared not longer trust himself
away from the base of his supplies. As
‘it was, he had so little in his pocket that
he rode from New York to Atlanta
without a mouthful to eat.
Before his departure he had sought
the post of Herald correspondent in At-
lanta. He was taken aback when Mr.
Connery assured him that the Herald
had no salaried correspondent in the
Séuth, but his eyes sparkled when he
was told that he was at liberty to gather
what news he could, and forward it at
space rates. He went to work with a
will after reaching Atlanta. For a
month he showered the Herald with
small telegrams, The most of them
were used. At the end of a month he
receive a check for $35. It covered the
article printed while he was at the As-
tor house. It was not as much as he
expected, but it inspired him with fresh
hopes and renewed his energies.
~The day of peace and plenty quickly
dawned. Within the three weeks an
incident occurred which was a crucial
test of Mr. Grady’s newspaper ability.
Oneafternoonthe received a telegram from
Mr. Connery asking him to ascertain
whether the name of a certain man was
registered at any Atlanta hotel. Grady
was on the street in an instant. He ex-
amined all the hotel registers in the city
and could find no such name. Then he
sat down, rubbed his head, and wonder-
ed why the Herald wanted to get upon
the man’s trail. The name seemed
strangely familiar. He turned over the
files of the Herald looking for it. He
found it. The stranger had been mix-
ed up in some Cuban trouble, had fled
from Havana, andjhad landed in Charles-
ton a fortnight gone. The Georgian
reasoned that he would be more apt to
run to New Orleans from Charleston
than to Atlanta. He telegraphed at his
own expense to a friend in the Crescent
City, asking him to search the registers
there. The friend did so, and found the
stranger. Grady thereupon forwarded
this dispatch to Connery:
ArranTa, Ga. 16th
To Thomas B. Connery, New York, Herald :
Your man is registered at the St. Cliarles
hotel, New Orleans. Hexry W. Grapy,
Connery was dumfounded. The re-
ply was received within three hours of
the inquiry. The news had also come
from an entirely unexpected quarter.
From that moment Grady’s stock began
to go up. The Georgian had struck the
bullseye in journalism with unerring
aim. His fortune was made. That
year he received over $6000 from the
Herald alone for his services.
Such was the story as it came to me
from Mr. Grady’s own lips.
Games for the Long Evenings,
Those who are fond of drawing will
find the game of “Positions” a pleasant
astime for long evenings. Any num-
er can play the game—the more the
merrier. All the players seat themselves
round a table, and each one must be
supplied with small pieces of white pa-
per and a pencil. All the players ex-
cept one then silently think on some
position in life which it is possible for
them to fill, and each makes some sign
of their “position” by sketching a little
picture of some article connected with
their proposed trade or business on their
blank piece of paper. The name of each
sketcher should pg written on their pa-
per. Five mir yes are allowed for the
sketching, th o time being kept by the
player Who pas not selected a “position.”
All the fiustrated papers are then sent
round th able, so that each may see the
other’s pictures, but no one criticises
them gil. Lastly, they are handed to
“8! smser,’ the player who has taken no
P'srtexcept keeping the time, who ranges
éiem on the table. The “guesser’’ then
looks at the pictures and proceeds to
guess the intended ‘‘position” of each
artist. If she fail to ‘guess any of the
‘positions,’’ the first at whom she stops
is chosen guesser for the next time; if
there has been no failure, the player on
the right hand of the guesser takes the
privilege. The principal object of the
gameis for each player to try who can
make the best sketch in five minutes,
and the next object isto puzzle the
guesser.
The game of “Names” is played in a
similar manner to that of “Positions,”
the players being all seated round a ta-
ble, and being provided with paper and
pencils. The time—five minutes—must
likewise be kept by one of the party.
One commences by calling out, “Girls,
names commencing with A ;’ then each
player writes down all the girls’ names
that she can racollect beginning with, A
during the five minutes allowed. At
theexpiration of the time, the oldest
player reads from her slip all the names
she has written down. All the other
players, as the names are read out, can-
cel any name on their lists mentioned.
‘Whan the marks are allotted for the
names, only those are given to names
which have no duplicates on any of the
other lists. Then another player calls
out, “Names of all rivers beginning with
B,” and so on through the alphabet, dif-
ferent names of places, countries animals,
etc., being given for the variour letters.
This game causes much amusement,
owtng to the difficulty often experienced
in thinking even of well known names
quickly and in the five minutes allowed.
Re ———————
Can Light His Breath.
The Strange Case of William Jackson,of
Middlebury, Vt.
The strange case ot William Jackson,
whose breath was inflammable excited a
great deal of interest in medical and
scientific circles two years ago. At that
time, says the Albany (N. Y.) Journal,
Mr. Jackson was a photographer in
Fayetteville, N. Y. More recently he
has been engaged in this same business
in Middlebury, Vt. One evening at
ten o'clock he lighted a lamp with a
match. Then with a breath of air
sought to “blow out the match.” In-
stan:ly his breath took fire with a slight
explosion. Jackson gasped with fright,
and the flame of the combustible air en-
tered mouth and blistered his tongue.
His lips and face also suffered, and his
mustache, eyebrows and the hair above
his eyebrows were singed to a marked
degree. The man was at first badly
frightened, and his wife, who was a
witness of the occurrence, screamed with
alarm.
Afier waiting an hour to see if there
would bea repetition of the phenomenon,
Jackson went to bed. The next morn-
ing he consulted his physician, Dr. T.
E. Quinly, who recognized the case as a
singular one, and engaged the writer of
this article to report it for the med-
weal journals. The truth of the reports
was at first questioned on all sides, but,
after the matter was thoroughly investi-
gated, it was admitted that such a
case might possibly occur. Then in 1874
it was learned that a European medical
journal had published a report of a
similar phenomenon, and musty scien-
tific tomes were searched, and one
item discovered that substantiated the
present. Then Jackson discovered that
he could reproduce the phenonmenon al-
most at will, but as the experiment some-
times resulted in unpleasant burns he
would exhibit his peculiarity only on
special occasions. At last medical men
figured out a theory to explain the
freak. They came to the conclusion
that it was not the breath from Juck-
son’s lungs, but air belched from his
stomach, that would take fire. The
patient had never been a drinking man,
so the gas was not rendered inflamable
by the presence of alcoholic vapor, but
for years he had suffered from a peculiar
kind of dyspepsia. Dr. William Man-
lius Smith, professor of chemistry in the
Syracuse Medical College, after careful
study concluded that food in Jackson’s
stomach underwent a butyric acid fer-
mentation, one of the products of which
was carbureted hydrogen, sometimes
called ‘marsh gas,” the ‘“firedamp” of
mines. Jackson understood a little
about chemistry and one day he and the
writer went to an old,stagnant pond and
collected a bottle full of “marsh gas.”
When lighted it exploded, and burned
prescisely as did Jackson’s breath. The
gas was collected by holding the bottle
under the surface of the pond, stirring
up the mud in the bottom of the pond,
and catching in the bottle the bubbles
of gas as they arose. Jackson is aboul
thirty vears old and a genuine Yankee.
He is a bright humorist, and as gen-
ial u fellow as one ever has the pleasure
of mecting. He has been a newspaper
man, Indian fighter, photographer and
half a dozen other things. He is also an
artist of no mean ability. His wife was
formerly his school-teacher.
It’s Different.
The man who sat in the last seat of
the rear car was a broad shouldered in-
dividual with a Capt. Kidd beard and a
bold, assertive mode of action. The
first thing he did after he had plunged
into his seat was to raise the window
and squirt a stream of tobacco juice into
the street. He wus a man few would
care to cross, butthe but the brakeman,
with the assurance born of years of ty-
ranny over mere passengers, knew no
fear. He walked up to the tobacco
shower, and sticking a finger at ‘him,
said .
“Soy, wajer tink dis is a bathin’
pavilion? Now, don’t you spit out de
winder no more, d’ye hear! People
what walks has got some rights.”
The passenger dropped his eyes be-
fore this severe and dignified rebuke,
and shrunk up in shame. The brake-
man stalked out upon the platform, and,
leaning over the iron gate, took aim
with his pursed lips ata group on the
sidewalk, and sent a torrent of tobacco
juice within a foot of them.— New York
Sun.
Eagles Fish for Trout.
A curious story comes from Clearfield
county, Penn. Mosquito Creek dows
through a wooded part of that county,
and the stream is as full of trout ss the
dense forest is alive with various kinds
of birds. The eagles find a peaceful
home there, and they are plenty too.
Some time ago a party of lumbermen
bethought themselves that it would be a
good scheme to catch the trout that in-
habit Mosquitto Creek. They could not
spare the time to fish with rod and line,
and Franklin Haverstraw, the inventive
genius of the camp, suggested the idea
of tying lines to bottles. The next day
the creek was full of tottles with lines
on them. They had good luck for
awhile until the bottles, began to dis-
appear, Tosolve the mistery a watch
was put upon the fishing tackle, and
Haverstraw and Christ Moore went on
guard. A day passed, but the bottles
were undisturbed, and a good mess ot
fish was caught. However, the two
men saw several eagles perched high
in the treetops, looking suspiciously in-
to the water below. Then they would
scar around and fiy close to the creek,
quickly going to the highest limb of the
tallest tree when they saw the men.
This singular action of the birds set
Haverstraw to thinking, and when he
told his [partner thatit was his belief
that the bottles were carried off by the
eagles, Moore scouted the idea. Hav-
erstraw was firm in his convictions, and
the next day the two men hid them-
selves among the leaves. At 8 o'clock
in the morning three 1 rge birds came in
sight. They sat on a tree for an hour.
Then feeling sure that they were unob-
served, they made a descent and each
caught a bottle in its claws and carried
it to the bank. Each line had a fine
trout on it which the eagles proceeded
to devour. The men were dumbfound-
ed. For the first time in their lives
they saw an eagle eating a fish. Hav-
erstraw and Moore remained in their
hiding place. To their surprise the
birds made another trip to the river.
Only one bird had a fish on it, but the
other two bi‘ds carried the bottles and
lines to shore. Before they could de-
vour the one fish, Haverstraw and
Moore appeared on the scene and the
birds flew off. The grounds were then
searched, and many of the missing bot-
tles and lines were found. To shoot the
eagles was the next measure adopted,
and on the fourth day two of the birds
were killed. The third flew away and
was not seen again.
It Wasa Paper Box.
Two variety performers came to Bos-
ton last week, looking for an engage-
ment at one of the dime museums.
They did not have money enough to
hire a room and pay for it in advance,
and, as their wardrobes were exceeding-
ly limited and they were looking rather
seedy in appearance, they knew that no
landlady would trustthem without some
sort of security.
Finally one of them named Grady
proposed the following :
“If we could get a baggage check,”
said he, “we’d all right, for we could
tell the landlady that our trunks would
be over in a day or twe, and leave her
the check for security. Now, I'll tell
I what we’ll do. If we can get a big
ox we can fill it up with ashes and get
it checked at some depot.”
This plan was thought to be feasible,
and the pair went hunting about for a
big box. They would have preferred
one made of wood, but could not get it,
and the next best thing proved to be
two big pasteboard boxes such as tailors
use. They were taken into a third
class hotel, where the performers knew
the clerk, and the latter allowed them
to fill the boxes from the ash pile. The
boxes were then carefully tied together
and marked. It was then taken to the
baggage room of one of the depots and a
check obtained.
Everything had gone well so far, and
the pair were chuckling over the success
of their scheme, when they heard a
great commotion in the baggage room.
It seems that the ashes with which the
boxes had been filled was hot and had
set the pasteboard afire, causing great
consternation among the baggage men.
The guilty pair, seeing at a glance what
the trouble was. made good their escape,
but they were afraid to use the check in
getteng a room, for fear the railroad
men would find them out.—Boston
Globe.
To Make Children Lovely.
There is just one way, and that is to
surround them by day and by night with
an atmosphere of love. Restraint and
reproof may be mingled with the love,
but love must be a constant element.
“I found my little girl was growing
unamiable and plain,” said a mother to
us the other day, ‘and, reflecting on 1t
sadly, I could only accuse myself of the
cause thereof. So I changed my mana-
gement and improved my opportunity
to praise and encourage her, to assure
her of my unbounded affection for her
and earnest desire that she should grow
up to a lovely and harmonious woman-
hood. Asa rose opens to sunshine, so
the child heart opened in the warmth
of the constant affection and caresses
showered upon her; her peevishness
passed away, her face grew beautiful,
and now one look from me brings her to
my side, obedient to my will and hap-
piest when she is nearest to me.”
Women's News.
"Two Edged.
Nathan Levy—I say Jacob; dot
Ikey Einstein vas a mean man. He vos
too grasping for his own goot.
Jacob Solomons—How vos dot ?
Nathan Levy— Vy, vesterday I gave
him my note for $100 at dirty days, und
py a mistake I dated it 1889. Ven I
remembered vot I did I vent to him to
get dot note back, and he says “I ‘don’t
regtify no mistakes after you leaves my
office. I’ve got your note dated Jan-
uary 2, 1889 und it is 11 months over-
‘due, und I'll charge you a year’s in-
terest.
Jacob Solomons—Dot vos nod right.
Vot haf you done ?
Nathan Levy—I told him dot I
vould abide by his decision, but dot as 1
failed last March und only paid my
greditors 2 per cend, dot note would
have to go mit der old debts, and as dose
affairs of dot old firm was vound up he
vould haf to sue der creditors for der
money. He vos a mean man, dot Ikey
Einstein.—New York Sun.
What Produces Death.
Most People Die from Disappointient.
Accident or Excessive Toil.
Some one says that few men die of age.
Almost all persons die of dissapointment,
personal, mental or bodily toil or acei-
dent. The passions kill men sometimes
even suddenly. - The common expression
“choked with passion,’ has little exager-
ation in it, for even though not sudden-
ly fatal, strong passions shorten life
Strong bodied men otten die young—
weak men live longer than the strong,
for the strong use their strength and the
weak have'none to use. The latter take
care of themselves, the former do not.
2s it is with the body, so itis with the
mind and temper. The strong are apt
to break, or, like the candle, run ; the
the weak burn out.
The inferior animals, which live tem-
perate lives, have nearly their perscribed
term of years. The horse lives twenty-
five years, the ox fifteen or twenty, the
the hog ten or twelve, the rabbit eight,
the guinea pig sixor seven. The num-
bers all bear proportion to the time the
animal takes to grow its full size. But
man, of all animals, is one that seldom
comes up to the average. He ought to
live a hundred years, according to the
physiological law, for five times twenty
are 100 ; but, instead of that, he scarcely
reaches an average of four times the
growing period.
The reason is obvious—man is not on-
ly the most irregular and most intem-
perate, but the most laborious and hard
working of all animalt, and there is rea-
on to believe, though we cannot tell
what an animal secretly feels,that more
than any other animal, man cherishes
wrath to keep it warm and consumes him
self’ with the fire of his own reflections.
Barnum’s Bill Stickers in England
They Surprise The Englishmen by the
Rapidity of Their Work.
Opposite to this house is a board fence
thirteen feet high by over one hundred
feet long, and in a few minutes I was
to see a feat in bill posting such as
seems hardly credible, now that I sit
calinly down to write of it. A wagon
having driven up, five men got out of
it ; one I recognized as Bart Ready,Bar-
nums boss poster, two were Americans
in their neat duck overalls, and two
were English bill stickers whose appear-
ance I would rather not describe. In
two minutes after their arrival the duck
overalled men had out their tin cans full
of paste and their eight foot long poles
with brushes at the end, and were hard
at it covering the boarding with paste
from top to bottom, from end to end.
The Englishmen stood by with some-
thing like sneers on their faces, as who
should say ; “well, there ain’t
much in that ; we can cover a board-
ing with paste too.’, Another minute
past and Ready began handing out some
carefully folded posters. The English-
men’s face began to relax alittle, as who
should say ; “what are they goin’ to do
now ?” and they began to whisper to-
gether.
The two Americans seized one of the
folded posters, gave it a shake, ran the
brush end of the long poles under it,
gave a sweep and another sweep, and
there on the boarding was a sixteen
sheet poster, containing a facsimile of
an open letter from P. T. Barnum,
headed “My Greatest Adventure.”
Then followed a twelve sheet poster por-
trait of Barnum, a forty-eight sheet de-
picting the show tents as they travel in
America, a twenty-four sheet picture of
Jumbo, a forty-eight representation of
the gallery of human freaks of nature,
a thirty-six sheet picture of the menag-
erie, a thirty-six sheet picture of the
Mexican rider, a forty-eight sheet repre-
sentation of the elephants performing, a
twenty-four sheet picture of the clowns,
and a twenty-four sheet portrait of Miss
Clara O’Brian, the Roman knife thrower.
All along the tops and the bottoms
of the pictures ‘‘streamers’’ were pasted.
The most remarkable fact, however,
was that every one of these huge post-
ers was slong up into position whole,
they had been pasted together before
starting. The 100 by 13 feet was cover-
ed in exactly fourteen minutes and thir-
tv seconds ! There! That is some-
thing like bill sticking. You ought to
have seen the facesof those Englishmen.
They were a study for Dickens. Of
course a crowd gathered, and as the om-
nibuses stop at the Cedars, you may
guessthere were some quaint remarks
from the drivers and conductors.— Pall
Mall Gazette.
She Wanted to be Prepa red.
A neatly dressed, nervy looking wo-
man went into an undertaker’s shop
on Gratiot avenue and asked to see
some plain wooden coffins, says the
Detroit Free Press.
“I want something stylish,” shesaid,
“but not costly. My husband’s sick-
ness has cost us 80 much that there
ain't money enough to put on style
with, but 1 want his folks to see I've
done right by him.”
The undertaker showed her several
different style and then asked her if
she had brought any measures with
her. She said she had not.
“I can send them along with the
order,” she said. “I think I'll take
this black walnut. All our furniture is
black walnut, and he always liked
that wood the best. How much do
you want down ?”
“When did your husband die 2’ in-
quired the undertaker.
“Oh, he an’t dead yet. But thedoc-
tors have given him up, and 1 gota
chance to slip out for a little fresh air,
and I thought I'd look at styles and
prices, for when he’s dead I shan’t be
worth shucks to attend to business.
I'm to soft-hearted.”
Then she paid down $5 on her new
purchase, took a receipt and went out
with the air of one who had made a
satisfactory bargain.
——The Ephemeris of Athens reports
that a rumber of coffers containing
30,000 gold and silver Spanish pieces
of the year1666 have been hauled out of
the sea near the island of Andros. Six
bronze cannons were found near the
coffers, and it is concluded the whole
came from the wreck of a Spanish man
of-war.
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