Demorraic atc, Bellefonte, Pa., June 12, 1891. OLD SAWS IN RHYME. Action speaks louder than words ever do ; You ean’t eat your cake and hold on to it too. When the cat is away, then the little mice play; Where there is a will there is always a way. There's no use crying o'er milk that is spilt : No accuser is needed by conscience of guilt. There must be some fire wherever is smoke; The pitcher goes oft to the well till it’s broke. By rogues falling out honest men get their Whosver di fits, he must put on the shoe. All work and no play will make Jack a cull A thing of much beauty is ever a joy. A half loaf is better than no bread at all ; And pride always goeth before a sad fall. Fast bind and fast find, have two strings to your bow ; Contentment is better than riches, we know. The devil finds work for hands idle to do; A miss is as good as a mile is to you. You spegk of the devil, he’s sure to appear ; You can’t make a silk purse from out of sow’s ear. A man by bis company always is known; Who lives in a glass house should not throw a stone. Speech may be silver, but silence is gold ; here’s never a fool like the fool who is old. — Detroit Free Press. A RACE FOR A HOME. BY CHARLES M. HARGER. A flock of mammoth white-winged birds, resting for a moment upon the crest of a billow of prairie—that was the picture presented by the new town of Leoti. It was buta few days old, and yet as its residents looked west- ward and saw the blue cloud-like form of Pike's Peak looming above the hor- izon, such was their faith in their ven- ture that their own town appeared de- stined to be no less permanent than the great backbone of earth a hundred and fifty miles distant. Willis Emmet rode his pony slowly as he came in view of the tented city. “Not much of a show for a fellow,” he thought, and he compared the place with his native Eastern town, with its heavy brick and stone struc- tures and its treelined streets. But he had little reason or disposi- tion to muse over the past. Family reverses had taken him from college just after his twenty-first birthday an- niversary, and he had come West ‘to grow up with the country,” with little to build upon his native pluck, for his father’s blessing was not very available as assets, He had heard so much of this grow- ing western Kansas town, that now he had reached it he was somewhat disap- pointed. It was sonew and so tempor- ary to hiseyes. A close glance could only detect a few frame buildings, and they were small and unpainted. Entering the place, he rode directly to the first “land office” sign and inter- viewed the agent regarding the possi- bility of finding a good claim, or one hundred and sixty acres of land, to pre tion of government land on the other side of the town on which no claim has been filed. It joins the town site and will be valuable.” “When the boom strikes us 1t can be laid out in lots, I suppose,” suggested Willis, “] wouldn't be surprised,” said the surveyor eagerly. “The land agent has been keeping people off it by telling them it has been claimed. He has it marked so on his maps. He is hold- ing it for his brother-in-law, whom he expects out from the East?” “Why don’t you take it ?” “I can't ; I've a claim entered on an- other quarter-section already. I only found it out a few days ago and have said nothing about it.” “Bat your friends.” “I have no intimate friends near here. I expected some through soon and would have given them the chance but I heard this morning that old Mose- ley, the teamster, had a bononza claim in view, and I know from certain actions of his that it is this one. I'd rather you'd get it. You will have to go to W——to the United States Land Office to enter your application. It is sixty-five miles away, but if you are quiek you can make it by to-morrow night,” Willis thanked his friend heartily, and began preparations for an early start while the surveyor took a walk down the tent-lined street to look after Mosely. In a few minutes he returned much excited. “You must start immediately,” he exclaimed. ‘Mosely left about noon- No one knows where he has gone, but Iam certain he is on his way to W——. Is your pony fresh ?” “Yes, I only rode six miles to-day.” “Good! You had better get started richt off, There's a settler's cabin fif- teen miles from here, and you can put up for a little rest. You will reach it before midnight.” : Taking a description of the claim hastily penciled on a piece of paper and mounting his pony, the young home- seeker cantered away through the dark- ness. Only the faintess semblance of a road showed itself, but he was used to the prairies, and with the deep blue sky above lighted by diamond points that shine, brighter through the rarified air of the prairies than nearer the sea, he guided his way by Polaris and made brisk time. When he reached the cabin of which the surveyor ‘had told him ‘he saw light streaming from the window, and looking in, there was a girl poring ov- er 2 ‘book by the illumination furnish- el by a cheap lamp. Hearing the knock, she came quickly to the door. : “0h,” said she, startled as she saw a stranger before her, “I thought it was brother Will, Lie went to town and has not returned. I am waiting for him,” “Can I stay here until morning?” was Willis’s question. “Why, yes, if you can sleep on the floor or in the chair; we have one lodger already. This was news, and a description was eagerly asked for. “An old man.” she said, “very tall empt. “Haven't a single quarter-section to show you nearer thanjsix miles,” re- plied that individual, rubbing his ands. “I control nearly all the busi- ness here, and I assure you that'll be the best you can do. I'll gell you—" “No,” interrupted the new comer, “I'm not ready to buy.” Indeed the few dollars his pocket contained wouldihave gone but a short distance toward a purchase. The agent was accommodating enough, however, to show him a tent where he could sleep for the night, and left him with the remark that they would ‘look around to-mor- Tow.” Somewhat disappointed, Willis lay back on his canvas cot and watched the sun go down that evening. The light flooded the haze rimmed circle of prairie and changed dark grasses to gold. The tent-tops rose and fell stead- ly in the breeze,a meadow lark balanc- ed and trilled on a tall suzflower near by, and the homesick adventurer was nodding with drowsiness, when a strange young man of about his own age appeared at the opening of the tent. It was his room-mate, a young sur- veyor, who had been assisting in locat- ing the line of the new railroad, which was to make Leoti great. “Good evening,” exclaimed Willig, for his experience with the West had taught him that good-natured boldness was the best policy, “I heard that you had room for another lodger in this hotel, so I made myself at home.” #Why, yes,” was the reply. “I am *baching, you see, but I guess you can get in since everything else is full.” They introduced themselves with elight formality, and when they went to the shanty. called by courtesy a “hotel,” for sapper, they were on the best of terms, Returning, Willis threw himself up- on the cot and gave his hat a careless tossmipon the floor of the tent. The young surveyor, entering, stum- bled over it, picked 1t up, gazed curi- ously at the hat-band, and exclaimed: “So you're one of ug ?”’ - “One of whom 2” “Of the Phi Kappa Psi’s,”” and he pointed to the three Greek letters of the stranger's college society, which were traced upon the band. “Let's have the grip,” said Willis laughing, “It will seem natural.” It was given heartily, and the two were as intimate in a short time asa year's ordinary acquaintance could have made them. Their talk reverted to Western life | streets of the land office town. and its opportunities, and Willis told of his dreams and his disappoint- | to find the surveyor’s words correct and | ments. snapping in the darkness. “How ? Give me some work ? | | | | | | and stooped, with Nose and chin that seemed to be approaching each other.” This tallied with the surveyor’s word- picture of Mosely, and Willis was sat- 1sfied. It was already midnight and after confiaing part of his story to his hos tess, the traveler proceeded to make the most of the room’s resources as a lodging place. The brother did not re- turn and the girl retirea to rest in an- other part oft the houset where her tather and the other lodger were sleep- ing. It was perhaps fouro’clock, when, as Willis was peacefully snoring in the big arm-chair, he was awakened to see his new acquintance standing beside him. “He has gone,” she whispered. “Who? Mosely? “Yes.” “Without breakfast?” “He said he had lunch with him in his wagon.” Willis was wide awake now to the necessity of quick action. Thanking the girl for her kindness and the lunch she had prepared, he brought his pony from the barn where it bad made a good meal, and swinging into the sad- dle was again on his way, Sunrise came and the soft-toned hlue of the heavens, the deepening green of the prairie and the pink flush where they met made a picture such as only the plains of the West can furnish. Soon, a long distance ahead jogging along at a tolerably fast rate, he dis- cerned the white mules and spring wa- gon of his rival. The sun was an hour high before he caught up with him, for Willis was too good a horseman to tire his steed at the beginning of a race. “Hello !” he shouted, ‘where are you going ?" “Ter Wanda, air you ?"” “Arter land like the rest of 'em, I ‘spose 2" “They all seem to want land, that's a fact,” was the evasive reply and dur- ing the remainder of the ride Willis kept the conversation chiefly on the subject of crops, weather and the like. At last, after a mile of companion- ship be did not dare risk it longer and putting the spurs to his pony he left Mosely and his mules behind. Forging on ahead he gained steadily all the forenoon and long before the horseman halted for noon-day rest, five | miles from Wanda, the old teamster had ceased to be within his range of vision. After a brief stop Willis went on and | in a short time was cantering down the | He | drew up at the office and was rejoiced pocket, his there. He did not care to meet his ri- val if possible to avoid it. In half an hour he saw the testy teamster come rattling aloug the street slashing the mules with a long snake- whip, and make for the land offie. When after a moment he came out there was an expression on his face that boded no good to the person who had outgeneralled him. Then he came to the hotel. Willis did not leave his room that afternoon or evening. He was not ex- actly afraid of Mosely, but thought it better to slip out quietly in the morn- ing and return to Leoti. But as he stepped out into the dingy hall of the hotel at dawn who should be the first man he met but the burly teamster. “Say,” was Mosely’s first words, “you know that land I was goin’ to claim ?” Willis was not supposed to know, as head affiamatively. loot got in ahead of me; claimed it vestiddy mornin’, too. name?" He had not asked it the day before, just entered his head. Willis started to give a fictitious name, but he was never much ofan ac- tor, and his face betrayed him. “Great scott! I b'lieve you're the fellow,” exclaimed Mosely. His suspicion was too strong to be overcome, and Willis pleaded guilty. ration, hundred dollars fer yer bargain.” by the anxious teamster, the owner was almost induced to take it. But he did not, nor yet when the amount was raised to five hundred dollars. home to Leoti together. The town of Leoti grew rapidly, and the tents were soon replaced with mod- ern frame and brick structures, To-day 1t.is one of the most thriving cities of the plains, and has around it a well- formed country dotted with smaller villages.— Yankee Blade. Taught Lincoln Grammar. War President. New York Sun. remarkable old man visiting here from Illinois. ham Green, and he is eighty years old. He has had a curious life, and he is proud of the fact that he is the man who first taught Abraham Lincoln the prin- ciples of English grammar. grammar,” he says, “and a mighty smart pupil he was, too.” Mr. Green’s story of how he came to do this and how he did it is as follows: “My futher moved over to Menard living in that state ever since. to the Illinois college in Jacksonville to specialty of grammar. In 1830 I went to work as a clerk in the store of Denton Offut in New Salem, Menard county. There I first met Abe Lincoln. He had helped Offutt, take his float-boat on a trading expedition down the Sanga- mon river. They ran aground on the store there with the goods from his boat, This was in 1831. Lincoln was twenty two years old at the time, bat he was six feet four inches tall, and one of the strongest men I eversaw. Lincoln had steered the boat for Offutt, and, I reck- on he had run it aground. month in the store and Lincoln got $10 a month, He and I slept on a single mattress on the counter, and it was so narrow we had to sleep spoon fashion. When he turned over, I did, too. One night he said to me: (Bill, haven’t you an English gram- mar you could lend me?’ “I told him I had a Kirkham’s gram- mar, and he said: ‘Bring it to me when you go home on Sunday.’ “He used to read it at night after the store shut up, and when he had read for awhile I would hear him his lesson. He went through the grammar in about two weeks, and then, at his request, I got him another grammar —Lindley Murray’s, I think it was-— and he went through that one the same way. In six week he knew five times as much about grammar as I did. “Lincoln did something else for me while we were in that store together-- he broke me of betting. There used to be a fellow named Enoch Eastep, who would come in there and spend a lot of time loafing around. He was a betting trifling kind of a man and he had a lot of tricks that he was always betting on. He had a trick of doubling up his hand in some way so as to hide his middle finger. Then he would bet you that you couldn’t mark his middle finger with a pen. I lost some coppers betting ‘with him, and one day Abe Lincoln said to me: «Billy, you ought to know better than to bet on anything, but especially to bet with a man on his own tricks. You ought to quit it.’ ‘But Abe, he’s got ninety cents the best of me,’ I said. ‘If I could get that back I would be willing to quit.” ‘Will you promise me that vou’ll never bet any wore if 1 manage itso that you can get ’way ahead of him with one bet?’ asked Lincoln. “Yes,” I said ‘but I hate to quit loser.’ ¢ Billy,” said Lincoln, ‘your getting to an age when your beginning to think a good deal about the girls. Wouldn't you like to have a “Yes, I would,’ said I, ‘but they st $7 a piece, and that is more than I can afford to pay.’ “Well,” said Abe, ‘when Enoch “Hl | Going to the single hotel the place af- ' comes in here again and wants to bet ‘No, to get some land. I happen to | forded the new landowner asked to be with you on his tricks, you just say that know that there is a good quarter-sec- shown a room and crdered dinner sent you don’t care to bet on such trifling his questioner had told him nothing of it, but the old man was so full of his subject that the listener nodded his “Wall,” Mosely went on, ‘some ga-| The villin’s name was Em—by the way, what's yer and a shrewd suspicion seemed to have The old fellow was at first inclined to be angry, but when his successful rival bad related his story he calmed down and apparently enjoyed the nar- “Tell yer what I'll do, gin yer three The money was a temptation, and as the bills were counted down on a chair So they patched up a peace and rode Reminiscences of a Chum of the Great Darras, Texas, May 25,—There is a His name is William Gra- “I taught Abe Lincoln all he ever knew about county, T1I., in 1820, and I have beef I went get a business education, and I made a dam at Salem, and Offutt set up his I got $8 a plug hat to wear | | : when you go calling on them ?’ { the land unrented. He took itasa | Jou.g J “I can help you, Mr. Emmet,” said | homestead, paid the fees, and had less | the other staring up, his eyes fairly | than five dollars remaining in things with him, but that you will bet that Abe can take a forty-gallon barrel of whisky off the floor and take a dram from the bung-hole. You say that you will bet him a plug hat on it.” «¢But can you doit?’ T asked. “¢You wait until afte? the store closes to-night and I'll show you,’ said Abe. ¢So that night he took a barrel of whisky and chimed it up a little on his left knee, and then tilted 1t on his right knee, and kind of bent back, and I pull- ed the bung out of the hole and he took a dram sure enough, and spurted it vight out again on the floor. The next day I won the plug hat from Enoch, as Abe had said I would. 7 have kept my word ever since, and I've never bet on anything. And what's more, I wouldn’t for $1,000. “Lincoln left the store after a while and went to work hauling logs to the saw mill for William Kirkpatrick. Kirkpatrick had eight or ten other men working for him, and he paid them each $10 a month. Lincoln drove an ox team and had a boy to help him. One day Lincoln told Kirkpatrick that he wanted to get a cant-hook to help him load the logs on the wagon. He said that a cant-hook would cost only $5, but Kirkpatrick said: ‘Now, Lincoln, if you'll manage to haul the logs with- out the cant-hook I'll give you $3 a months extra.” Lincoln said that he would do it, but at the end of the month he only got $10, instead of $13. When he asked for the other $3, Kirkpatrick said: ‘Abe, I can’t pay you $3 extra.’ ‘But, you promised to do it,” said Abe, ‘Yes,. I know,” said Kirkpatrick, ‘but the other men would raise hell if I paid you more than they are getting, so I can’t do it.’ Lincoln quit work for Kirkpatrick then, “The next year, in 1832, old Black Hawk came back into Illinois with the Sacs and Foxes, and militia companies were raised to go to fight them. All the young men went into the Black Hawk war, and Lincoln and I were among them. Major Mosé® K. Anderson came to form the companies and get them in- toshape. Now, Kirkpatrick was very anxious to be elected captain of our com- pany and so was Abe Lincoln. Major Anderson got us all together, and then he called out “You aspirants for the captaincy walk twenty paces to the front and face the line.’ Kirkpatrick and Lincoln stepped out and faced about. “ ‘Now,’ said the Major, ‘the rest of you fall in alongside of the man you want for your captain!’ «I was the first to run to Lincoln’s side, and I stood at his right. Kirkpa- trick’s men formed on his left. After a while, when all had chosen, there were two long lines, one to the right of Lincoln and one to the left of Kirkpa- trick. Then we saw that Lincoln had beaten Kirkpatrick two to one and had seven over to spare. I'll never forget how, when Abe saw how things had gone, the old fellow put his big, horny hand on my shoulder, and I could feel him all trembling with delight, as he said: «Bill, T’ll be damned if I hain’t beat him I’ That was the first time that I ever heard Abe swear, and I know he must have been powerful excited to do it. “Tt was at that time that Lincoln first met Jefferson Davis. Zachary Taylor and Davis were both there and Jeff Davis swore Lincoln into the ser- our company. Isaw him do it.” Mr. Green had many other reminis- cences of Abraham Lincoln’s young manhood. It was in 1862 that they came together again, but each had watched the other’s career with great in- terest. When Lincoln was nominated for the presidency ex-Governor Deani- son, of Ohio, went to Springfield to see him and get from hima sketch of his life, to be used for campaign purposes. Lincoln said: Oh, letit alone; I never did anything worth writing aboat.” The Governor insisted that a sketch was necessary, and then Lincoln gave the governor names of some of his friends to get his history from. Among these names was Green's, and Lincoln said when he gave it to Dennison: ‘He knows what not to tell you, which is more important than what hes does tell you.” In 1862 Mr. Green had become president of the Tonnekey and Peters- burg railroad, now a branch of the Chi- cago and Alton. He was a very busy man. One day he received a message from Lincoln to come to Washington. He went and Lincoln said to him: “Billy, I want you to be internal ve- venue collector for your district. It takes a very determined man for the place, for L. W. Ross, that copperhead congressman of yours, is giving the gov- ernment trouble there.” “I tried to beg off,” said Mr. Green in telling the story yesterday. “I told Lincoln that I had invested all my mon- ey in the railroad, and that I couldn’t put it through, perhaps, unless I gave it my undivided attention. «Billy,” he said, ‘whether you are rich or broke, you must do all you can for the country. You have four sons in the army, I know, but if we don’t . . save the country we will all go to bell in a hand basket anybow, so you must take the place. You can resign in three or four months, and T’'ll let you name your successor.’ “So I went back home and took the the office and the first thing I did was to plant a cannon near Ross’s place and make my headquarters close’ to it. Then [ sent for Ross and said to him: ‘I have trained that cannon on that fine brick house of yours because I want you to do all you can to help me in my work.” And Ross turned in and helped me, too. I never had any trouble with him after that.” ~ Mr. Green would not say who was his choice for the presidency in 1892, but be did say that he had never voted any- { thing but a straight Democratic ticket, except when he voted for Lincoln, and that he would keep up the practice as long as he lived. ~«—T have been a great sufferer from dry catarrh for many years, and I tried many remedies, but none did me so much benefit as Ely’s Cream Balm. It com- pletely cured me. M. J. Lally, 39 Woodward Ave, Boston Highlands, Mass. —— The editor wrote it correctly: ¢ Let the galled jade wince.” Dut this is the way it appeared in the paper: “Let the gallon jug wait.” | vice of the Tnited States as captain _of | Babies. How Little May Made ¢ Dashjul Pair of Lovers Blush Scarlet. In His “Diary of a Pilgrimage,” Jerome K. Jerome tells this one, and a “pretty good one’ itis, too: I was walking up and down the garden when, on passing the summer house, Iover- heard my eldest niece, aged 7, who was sitting very upright in a very big chair, giving information to her younger sister aged 5, on the subject of ‘* Babies,” their origin, discovery and use.” “You know, babies,” she was remark- ing in conclusion, “ain’t like dollies. Babies 1s ’live. Nobody gives you ba- bies till you've growed up. An’ they're very improper. We're not g’posed to talk 'oout such things—we was babics once.” She is a very thoughtful child, is my eldest niece. Her thirst for knowledge is a most praiseworthy trait in her char- acter, but has rather an exhausting -ef- fect upon the rest of the family. We limit her now to seven hundred ques- tions a day. After she has asked seven hundred questions, and we have answer- ed thern, or, rather, as many as we are able, we boycott her; and she retires to bed, indignant, asking : “Why only seven hundred ? Why not eight 7’ Nor is her range of inquiry what you would call narrow or circumscribed at all. It embraces most subjects that are known as yet to civilization, from ab- stract theolagy to cats ; from the failure of marriage to chocolate, and why you must not take it out and look at it when you have once put it inside your mouth. : She has her own opinion, too, about most of these matters, and expresses it with a freedom which is apt to shock respectfully -brought-up folk. I am not over othordox myself, but she staggers even me af times. Her theories are too advanced for me at present. She has not given much attention to the matter of babies hitherto. It is on- ly this week that she hasgonein for that subject. The explanation is —I hardly like mentioning it. Perhapsit--I don’t know, I don’t see that there can be any harm in it, though. Yet, well the fact of the matter is, there is an ‘event’ ex- pected in our family, or rather, in my brother-in-law’s ; and there ! you know how these things get discussed among relatives, and May--that it is my niece’s name—I1s one of those children that you are always forgetting is about, and nev- er know how much it has heard and how much it has not. The child said nothing, however, and all seemed right until last Sunday after- noon. It was a wet day, and I was read- ing in the breakfast-parlor, and Emily was sitting on the sofa, looking at an album of Swiss views with Dick Chet- wyn. Dick and Emily are engaged, Dick is a steady young fellow, and Em- ily loves him dearly, I am sure; but they both suffer, in my opinion, from an | overdose of modesty. As for Emily, it does not so much matter ; girls are like that before they are married. But in Dick it seems out of place. They both of them flare up quite scarlet at the simplest joke even. They always make me think of Gilbert’s bashful young couple. ‘Well, there we were, sitting round, the child on the floor, playing with her bricks. She had teen very quiet for about five minutes, and [ was just won- dering what couid be the matter with her, when, all of a sudden, and with- out a word, of warning, she observed in the most casual tone of voice, while continuing ker building operations: J “Is Auntie Cissy going to have a lit- tle boy-baby, or a little girl-baby, uncle ?”’ “Oh, don’t ask silly questions; she hasn’t made up her mind yet.” “Oh, oh! 1 think I should ’vise her to have a little girl, ‘cause little girls ain’t so much trouble as boys, 1s they ? Which would you ’vise her to have, uncle ?” “Will you go on with your bricks, and not talk about things you don’t un- derstand ? ‘We're not supposed to talk about those sorts of things at all. Itisn’t roper.”’ . “What isn’t p’oper? Ain’t Labies ? “No ; very improper, especially some ‘of them”? “ 'Umph ! then what's people have ‘em for, if they isn’t p’oper 7” “Will you go on with with your bricks, or you will not ? ® # * * “Shall I have a baby when growned up ?”’ ‘Oh bother the child! Yes, if you're good and don’t worry, and get mar- ried.” I'm “What’s married ? What mumima and pappa is ?’ Yes.” “And what Antie Emily and Mr, Chetwyn is going to be ?” “Yes ; don’t talk so much.” “Will Ayntie Emily have a—7?" “Go CN WITH YOUR BRICKS 7” ER SE TO TA He Will Not “Make Her Obey.” In a Sheffield church the other day a marriage ceremony came to an abrupt and altogether unlooked for termination. It was the fault of the would be bride- groom, and most people would say in losing his bride he met his deserts. The ceremony went on right enough till the clergyman, addressing himself to the woman, put the question whether she would have the man to be her hus- band, “to love, honor and obey.” At the mention of the word ‘‘obey” the bridegroom ejaculated: “I'll make | thee.” “Are we married yet?” asked the wo- | man of the clergyman. “No, you are not,” he replied. “Then we shall not be,” said she, and thereupon she left the church. The man protested that it was late, but she heeded him not, and his discomfiture was made none the less when the parson told him that she had acted very sensibly. I CTT TT— too | —— You must desire to improve your heart, and so become good. You must desire to improve your head, and so become well informed. But you must desire first to become good. That is the first and great end of life. s————— ——The most remarkable cures of gerofula on record have been accom- plished by Hood's Sarsaparilla, Try it. Sold by all druggists. | eard into the hat in the centre, Invention of the Shu. lower. “Betore Watts had his dream,” says. The Mechanical World, *iue making of shot was a slow, laborious ana conse- quently costly process. Wats nad to take great bars of lead aud pound them out into sheets of a thickuess nearly equal to the diameter of the shot ne desired to make, He then had wo cual these sheets 1nto litle cubes,piace the cubes in a revolving barrel and roll the barrel around uuul by the constant friction the edge wore off’ from che lit. tle cubes and they became spheroids. “Watts had often racked his brain try'rg to discover some better and less costly scheme, but in vain. Finally, atier spending an evening with some boon companions at the alehouse, he went home and went to bed. He soon fellinto a profound siamber, but the stimulants he had imbibed apparently disagreed with him, for his sleep was disturbed by unweicome dreams. He imagined he was out again with the ‘boys,’ and that as they were stumbl- ing homeward in the dark it began to rain shot. Beauttul globules ot leau, polished and shining, fell in a torrent, and compelled him and his bibulous companions to drag their heavy limbs to a place of shelter. “ln the morning when Watts arose he remembered his dream. He turned it over in his mind all day and won- dered what shape molten lead would assume in falling through the air. These thoughts tormented him so persistently that at last, to set his mind at rest, he carried a ladleful of molten lead to the top of the steeple of the Church of St. Mary, of Redclitl, and dropped it intoa boat below, Descend- ing, he took from the bottom of the shallow pool several handfuls of the most perfect shot he had ever seen. Watts’ fortune was made, for he had conceived the idea of the shot tower, which ever since has been the only means employed in the manufacture of the little missiles so important in war and sport.” “The Chicago Special.” New Train to the West via Pennsyl- vania Railroad. In order to increase its present su- perb facilities between New York and Chicago, the Pennsvania Railroad Com- pany will, on June 7th, place in service an additional fast express train between these points. The new train will be known as the “Chicago Special.” It will be composed of two Pullman Ves- tibule Sleeping Cars, one Combination Smoking Car, two Pennsylvania Rail- road Standard Coaches, and a Dining Car. The entire equipment will run through to Chicago, except the dining car, which will be dropped after supper at Altoona. Anvother dining car, for the service of breakfast and dinner, will, however, be attached to the train at Al- liance. The “Chicago Special” will leave New York every day at 4.00 P. M., Philadelphia 6.25 P. M., and stopping at Harrisburg, Altoona, Pittsburg, and principal points on the Fort Wayne route, arrive in Chicago 5.15 p. m. the next day. The east-bound counterpart of this train willbe known as the “Keystone Express.” It will leave Chicago via the Fort Wayne route at 10.45 a. m. ev- ery day, and arrive in Philadelphila 11.25 a. m. and New York2p.m. It will be equipped in every respect as the west-bound train, and will carry a dia- ing car from Chicago to Alliance, and Altoona to New York. These trains will be equipped with the best grade of new cars, they will run on a fast schedule, and the hours of departure and arrival at prominent cen- tres commend them at once to the fav- orable considerations of travelers. Why Razors Grow Blunt. The finest grades of razors are so de- licate that even the famous Damascus sword blades cannot equal them in tex- ture, Itis not generally known that the grain of a Swedish razor is so sensi- tive that its general direction is chang- ed after a short service. When you buy a razor the grain runs from the upper end of the outer point in a diago- nal direction toward the handle. Con- stant strapping will twist the steel un- til the grain appears to be straight up and down. Subsequent use will drag the grain outward from the edge so that after steady use for several months the fibre ot the steel occupies a position exactly the reverse of that which it did ou the day of purchase. The process al-o affects the temper of the blade, and when the grain sets from the lower and onter point toward the back, youn have a razor which can- not be kept in condition, even by the most conscientious barber. But here's another curious freak that will take place in the same tool: Leave the ra- zor alone for a month or two, and when you take it up you will find that the grain has assumed its first position. The operation can be repeated until the steel is worn through to the back. EE ST — An Amusing-Game. The players in this game are-divided into two opposing sides and sit in two half circles at the same distance every way around a gentleman's silk bat placed on the floor in the centre. Two differently colored packs of cards are then given, one to each party, and by them equally dealt out to each player. The aim is for each player to throw a which is not nearly so easy «a thing to do as may be supposed, and the tloor is soon littered with the cards which fail to go into the hat. The game is played till both packs are exhausted ; then those cards that are in the hat are counted, and the side that has most of its own color wins. This game may also be played by each player being singly opposed to each other and by the play- ers standing up instead of sitting. It requires a considerable knack to do it well, and to throw the card in such a manner that it falls into the hat. — Brooklyn Citizen. I