a
——
Apostrophe to the Watermelon,
Come to the mortal as he sits
Upon a dry goods box and sips
The nectar from thy juicy lips —
Come to the youngster as he flite
Aoross the high and peaked fence
And moves with ecstasy intense
Thy charms from ofl the native vine]
And thou art terrible!
Oh, Angust-born monstrosity!
Inearnate colicosity !
Beneath thy emerald bosom glow
Like glittering bubbles in the wine,
The luril fires of deadly woe,
Aud from thy fascinations grow
The pain, the cramp, the pang, the throe
And all we fear or dream or know
Of agony is thine,
- Eugene Feld,
The Faces We Meot,
Oh, the faces we meet, the taces we moot,
At home or abroad, on the hurrying streot!
Each has its history, dark or bright,
Toad so clearly in legible light;
As with pen of gold
Of the finest mold,
Diamond pointed
And lightly serolled--
Some, telling that fortune hath graciously
planned
Their skcteh, and wrote with her soit, white
hand.
Others, where barrowicg grief and care
Have left in steel their traces there -
Steal that outs like the sharpened sword,
Slowly carving each written word,
Through anxious fears
And sorrowing teaps—
Each furrowed line
Its import wears;
And we road that “lite is a stern warfare,
To battle and to do, to suffer and boar.”
While others, the iron band of sin
Branding each line and sentence in,
Leaving torever its harrowing trace,
Whore once was purity, beauty and grace;
The soul's deep scars
Like iron bars
Q'er windows bright,
The visage mars;
And we read, * Liles a wild bacohanalian
song,
The province of selfishness, ruin and wrong.”
Faces so old, yet #0 young in their years,
Where pinching penury blights and sears,
And the bony finger of poverly writes
What merciless misery e'er indites;
Where pain and want
And hanger gaunt,
Big joy and beauty
And hope avaunt;
“ Lite is to wonder—starving and cold,
Shunned and lorsaken—toil and grow oll”
Oh, tho ices we meet, the tices we meet,
At home or abroad, on the hurrying street!
Reautitul faces with soul-reaming eyes,
Visions of angels that walk in disgu've!
Faoes glad and as gay
As the blue skies of May,
With no more of care
Than the rose on the spray!
Others sad, yet more sweet with submission’s
soit tone,
By treading the wind.press of sorrow alone.
Pitiful faces upturned 50 (0 mine,
Wistfal and eager, as if to divine
It human charity, pity or love
Could be found "neath the dome of the
heavens above.
Little faces so old,
Thin with hunger and cold;
Faces furrowed by toil
After perishing gold!
Oh, the heart is oit burdened with sorrow
replete,
By the tales that are read in the faces we meet!
~Ailie Wellinglon.
The Ghost of the Laburnums.
“Why do you not invite me to the
Laburnums, Fan?
** Because it is so lonely there, Rae.”
“For that reason I shall come,” said
preity Raphaella Fairlie. “1 shall come
and keep you company for & whole
week, just as soon as 1 can get away
from the city. 1 knew you and Phil
wire oping,” nodding her curly head
sazaciously.
A sudden gravity went over Fannie
Brudenel's gentle countenance, yet her
tvs bri htened expectantly.
“1 should love to have you there, of
course,” was all she said.
W hen train time came and Fannie had
left Rae's pretty studio and the city,
the little artist still sat daintily touch-
ing the photograph she was coloring,
and evidently closely thinking of some-
thing elise. She was not sure that Doec-
tor Plalip Brudenel would exactiy ap-
prove of her going to .he Laburnams,
but she meant to go, for all that, for she
loved him, and she could plainly see
that he had cares and perplexities of
which she knew nothing. And though
they pad been engaged over a year, he
made no proposal of marrying soon,
only looked moodily when the subject
was appponched. Rae so enjoyed his
company that she could live with him
in the black hole of Calcutta, she de-
clared to herself, but probably Philip
did not think so. Anyway she was go-
ing tothe Laburnums, his home at Low-
shore, because she felt that her love
gave her a right to know what was
troubling him.
Ten days later she locked her studio
doorand steamed away to Lowshore,
snd soon the depot carriage had set her
down at the door of a tiny cottage hid
in laburnum-trees. .
Fannie kissed her affectionately,
“What a delightful apparition you
are, Rae,” she said, and led her into a
Hutle Siiag-oom.
verything was very plain, and very,
very tiny, Rae thought, dmg ds
spacious city apartments; and when
Fannie had taken her hat and traveling-
sachel, and gone to spread a lunch for
hier, Rae looked around and saw thatthe
carpet was threadbare and the furni.
ture extremely old-fashioned,
Suddenlya door opened, and an old
lady, leaning on a cane, tottered into
the room. Her face, bordered by a
snowy cap, had a strange, white, puffy
look, but she yet showed signs of hav-
ing been very pretty in youth.
* What are you?” she asked Rae, “a
fairy? Do you think you can better our
fallen fortunes? No, no! that can never
Rae's cheek burned under the
strangely significant words, but she
guessed immediately that the old lady's
mind was wandering; then Fannie en-
tered the room.
* Come, mother, come and rest now,”
the said, gently, and drew her from the
room. She came back, saying to Rae:
“ My mother is demented. Do not be
troubled by anything she says.”
It was evening when Doctor Philip
brought his fine presence into the tin
home. His start of delight on behold-
ing Rae was succeeded by a rather sad
smile.
“What pleasure did you expect to
find here, child?” he asked, holding
her Liand.
“ Perhaps I did not come for pleasure,
Philip.”
“For what then?”
a“ Profit.”
“1 tind very little of that here.”
Two days passed. Rae saw plainly
what the life was at the Laburnums—
monotonous, meager; but ever since
Philip had first brought his sister to her
studio, Rae had loved Fannie, who was
older than herself, and patiently be-
coming one of the sweetest of old maids.
So she enjoyed sisterly {alks with Fan-
nie. Philip was absent mest of the
time.
In one o. these confidential chats
Fannie said:
* You ought to have come in the early
autumn, Rae—it is prettier here then. In
November we have nothing attractive
pl iy nothing. I have often ex-
pressed the wish to Philip to have you
visit us; but he always speaks of “the
contrast between your life and ours—
you in the city, with access to so much
that is entertaining, and we so shut out
from the world. But use it is you,
I think, Rae, that I will snow you the
house in the hollow.”
“The house in the hollow, Fan?”
* Yes, our ancestral home; for Philip
and [ came of a prosperous race, poor
us we now are, and the old house is full
of what is beautifyl and rare. Get your
1:at and we will go now.” : .
Thiough lines of laburnums,
VOLUME XIII.
HALL, CENTRE
PA.
CO.,
a
«)
- 9
1880.
NUMBER 31.
across a tiny kitchen garden, along a de-
caying orchard into a slope still green
in the November sunshine. At one end
of the valley which opened toward the
sca, where white sails were noiselessly
flitting, stood a large and handsome
house of pajnted brick, with oriel win-
dows and other picturesque effects,
“It is not an old howe,” said Fannie,
“It was built by my gravdfether, in his
last days, as a wedding present to my
mother. The old house which had for-
merly stood here he had pulled down
and this built. He intended to reside
with his only daughter when she mar
ried lsrael Beauoaire, a French Jew,
whom he had chosen for her. But my
mother fell in love with her music
teacher, Ross Brudenel, and eloped with
him, and grandfather wrote and bade
her never to come back. Bui when
Philip and I were latherless, my mother
came, in her great extremity, and begged
ber father's assistance Grandfather
gave her this cottage we have now, and
allowed her a small income with which
to bring us up, but never forgave her.
At last he died, willing all his property
to a distant cousin in India, who has
never come for it, The house stands
empty, with all its beautiful furniture,
and the rioh flelds lie fallow, while
Philip barely supports us with his
small practice. Lowshore is a distress.
ingly healthy place,” with a faint smile.
The interior of the house was finished
in rich foreign woods, the floors polished
like glass and laid with costly rugs and
tapestries. The furniture was of wa-
hogany and velvet, long mirrors and
dark paintings sdorned the walls. It
was indeed a handsome house, speaking
of almost limitless wealth.
* There are thousands of dollars worth
of silver in the bank at Shoreborough,”
said Fannie, “and rents accumulating
there which will be a small fortune in
itself. But we have nothing.”
“How hard! how cruel!” cried Rae.
“I should not think vour grand.
father could rest in his grave to have
you and Philip, with all your refine-
ment and culture, spending your lives in
a hand-to-hand scramble for bread.”
“They say he does come back and
wander uneasily about here,” said Fan.
nie, carefully closing shutters and doors
and comirg out into the sunshine.
** But of course suchi:? ies are told of
all such places. Philips ays he does not
believe a word of it," with a marked
emphasis which made Rae turn and look
at her.
* But you do, Fan."
“Twice people have tried to sleep
peared to them.
try it, for I am a timorous thing at best,
and-—"
The intensity of Rae's thoughts made
her quite deaf to what further her com-
anion was saying. This fortune was
*hilip's right. No wonder he was sad
moody and hopeless of their marriage
as he was situated and seemed fated to
continue to be.
“The will was made immediately
after mamma's marriage,” said Fannie,
standing under the laburnums and look-
ing up at the great house. ‘‘Poor
mother says he told heron his deathbed
that he made another will—perhaps in
her favor. But what she says goes for
little. Her state is very strange since a
tever she had just after Philip came of
age—her talk so wild and foolish—and
yet she seems to understand some things
in our affairs that we do not see till
afterward. It is almost nneanny to
think over the strange knowledge she
has had during these past years,” and
Fannie fell into a fit of musing.
They walked back to the tiny cottage.
Rae's veins thrilled with excitement,
tea. They kept no maid, this poor
disinherited family, and Rae learned
that Ponilip's own hands tilled the
little kitchen-garden, while every labor
of the household was performed by
Fannie.
She could not sleep that night after
she Lad gone to her tiny bedroom. The
moonlight seemed to disturb her and
make her brain wildly active. What
influence strung her nerves ?P—for when
all was still and the night far advanced
she rose, and, dressing, donned her warm
sealskin sack and cap, and came out
into the hall. She took a bunch of
keys from their nail there, and, selecting
one which she had seen Fannie take,
held it tightly in her slim, white fingers
as she went out into the night.
In the moon's white light she went
steadily through the long linés of labur-
nums, acroes the tiny kitchen-garden,
along the decaying orchard, into the
hollow. She stood a moment before
the great still house, listening to the
roar of the sea. Strangely enough, she
did not feel afraid. If she thought ofjthe
presence of an unseen spirit, it was to
appeal to it prayerfully for help.
Another will. It must be. At Jeast
it would do no harm to search,and that
is what she had come for.
She left the hall-door wide open and
let the moonlight flood the tiled hall.
It streamed through the chinks of the
shutters, which she opened, one by one,
as she fitted keys to drawers of all
kinds. The task was no light one, for
in every nich was cabinet or escritoire.
But there were no papers anywhere,
Many things which must have been the
personal property of old Squire Brud-
enel she found, but nowhere his will.
“Oh, ifl oniy could—ifl only could!”
she said, sadly, *‘ and it would restore
Philip to his rights!”
Rat, tat, tat—the sound of a cane on
the tilted floor. Rae turned for the first
time, hier eyes wide with fright. The
enthusiasm with which she had enter-
tained her generous purpose had made
her utterly forgetful of herself. Now
some one was coming.
The door swung slowly on its tar-
nished silver hinges. A quaint, bent
little figure, leaning on a cane, advanced
into the room and paused beside a
handsome carved armchair which stood
before a table. Lifting the cane, the
bent little old woman knocked smartly
thrice on the seat of this chair, filling
the room with a hollow sound, then, re-
suming her teeble walk, she passed out
of the apartment by another door.
Tremblingly, doubtingly, Rae cari-
ously approached the chair. The blows
of the cane seemed to | ave disturbed or
broken the seat, for it was awry, plainly
revealing a cavity beneath. Turning
the chair to the light, Rae looked within
and saw distinctly a folded paper.
It was a large sheet, yellow, and thick
ns vellum. Her hands trembled as she
unfolded it and resd: “My last will
and testament, Paul Brudenel,” and it
dropped to the floor.
Snatching it up she ran—ran swiftly
out of the ae and flew noiselessly
and shaking to Fannie’s door.
“I have found it—I have found it!’
she cried, flinging her arms around the
amazed, white-robed figure who ad
mitted her to Fannie's chamber.
“Found what? Are you sick? Are
you crazy?" asked gentle Fannie Brude-
el.
“The other will—within a chair—an
old armehair in the house in the hol-
low. A ghost showed it to me!”
answered Rae, hiolding the paper aloft.
There was a knock at the chamber
door.
“Sister, what is the matter? What
disturbs the house?”
It was Philip's voice.
“I have found the will! Come in and
read it!” eried Ree, dragging him in.
She gave him the paper; she lighted
a lamp. He was forced toread. Strug-
gling for calmness as he proceeded, he
read to the end. Yes, late, but not too
late, the precious document was found—
the second will of Paul Brudenel, uncon-
ditionally bequeathing all he possessed
to these two, nis grandchildren.
In the exciting talk which followed
no one heard a slender cane go rat-tat-
tat past the door, but when the blue
morning light dawned and Fannie be-
stirred herself to get breakfast, she went
first to her mother’s room.
“Philip,” she said, coming back,
“mother has had one of her bad nights
must have slept very much more soundly
than usual; she never eluded me belore,
She is very much exhausted.”
Philip went instantly to attend his
mother, When, the next day, she
tion, and Rae had minutely told her
Brudenel as to her visit to the house in
the hollow, and tried to discover if she
had any knowledge of the hiding place
from her disordered mind. i.
only shake her head and smile.
tion to that onely
canny hour, Rae
next evening, when, embraced by his
arm, they had talked over the happy
prospect of their immediate union,
* I was inspired," she answered, laugh-
ing, but with a look of awe creeping into
her beautiful eyes. Then, as she recon-
sidered that strange night, she gently
embraced him:
“All for love, Philip.
all for love."
A Humorist Catehes a Shark,
Burdette, the Burlington Hawkeye
place at such an un-
Mm
It was done
off Nantucket:
Ic is fun. A delightful sail of nine
miles brought us to the fishing grounds.
We anchored off Great Point and de-
company.
est numbers
would have
been anything leit.
sharks.
There is a great iron hook, with two
in the
been encored had there
Then we caught
is a line strong enough to pull a cotton.
wood stump. You load the hook with
bluefish, then let it sink to the bottom,
and wait in tranquility and patience for
a bite. The shark takes hold of a bait
and believed you were a liar an
was stealing it. He Las to roll over be-
fore he can take the bait at all, and as
he knocks it with his nose in this move.
ment, you are potified that your first
shark is following your hook, and if
you are like me, you want to ** holler”
right away. By-and-bye there is a gen-
tle tug at the hook. very easy and very
slow, and you begin to wonder if some
Mississippi catfish hasn't lost himself
down here. Then the shark starts away
with the bait, you let him run a yard or
| mighty jerk fasten the hook in him, and
| haul in.
{ That is where the entertainment be.
{ gins, The curtain is rung up with a
| lourish of trumpets, three ruffles of the
{ drums, red fire from both wings, and
i go into the woods on both sides of the
i road and climb trees, you know about
{ what it is to haul in a shark. You yell
| at the time. Must yell, from the time
i the hook catches until the shark isin;
{ or you'll never get him. And the rest
| of the crew help you. They shout en-
| couraging remarks at you. Hand over
{ hand you tug in the line. Inch by inch
{ the shark takes itout. You rally, and
| brace your feet against the gunwale,
{ and in he comes again. You think you
must have about five hundred fathoms
of line out. You begin to wish yon
were a windlass. You puff, and yell,
{and pant, and howl, and strain, and
shout, and pull, and shriek, and sweat,
and wail, and surge, and haul, and yank,
and all the time that provoking shark is
just holding back with the steady, un-
swerving, aggravating reluctance of a
July hillside, and over and through
your own inarticulate shoutings you
can hear the rest of the crew.
out of the water!”
raise him!"
q oy Jouder, colonel, and you'll
ewh him!
on your eyes
Ard indeed, my organs of vision were
standing out, and looking at each other,
in great amazement over the top of my
nose, having never seen each before,and
twins.
another pound, the great ugly body of
the shark looms up in sight, then you
see the glassy eyes and the smilin
mouth, its rows of pearly teeth; the yell-
ing and shouting is redoubled. Captain
William catches the chain and the
shark's head is held above the water,
while Captain Alexander with a huge
the nose. One or two thumps with that
mighty club is sufficient, for the shark
is vitally sensitive about his nose, and
we had the monster on board.
first shark, and it is nine feet long and
will weigh about 400 pounds.
That is several feet taller than I am.
In the calm majosty of success I tilt
my hat forward and a little to port, un-
over the dancing waters of the blue At-
lantic, and wait for another shark,
while I graciously receive the sarcastic
congratulations and praises of the ad-
1iring crew.
The Spider.
The spider has never been at school a
day in his life, he has never learned a
the straightest lines, most perfect cir-
cles, beautiful little bridges, and many
of his family can spin and weave, some
of them can hunt and swim and dive
and do mason work almost as well as if
they had a trowel and mortar. There
is a spider in my garden that makes so
many lines and circles you'd think it had
been all through geotctry, It makes
circles, every one a little larger than the
other, about twelve of them, and then
from the smallest circle begins and
makes about twenty-eight straight lines,
going to the outeide circle, like the
whalebones in an umbrella. It makes
its web 80 perfect and regular that it is
called the geometric spider. You'd see
late in summer clusters of its eggs on
bushes and hedges. When hatched, the
spiders all keep jogethor in a little ball.
You touch this ball and the little spiders
will scatter in all directions, but as soon
as they can they'll get together again,
as before. left my silk dress
last night hanging over a chair
near the wall, and this morning I found
that Mrs. Spider had been there in the
night and made a beautiful little bridge
of spider silk between my dress and the
wall. The spider that made this bridge
for me had eight eyes. It can’t move
any of these eyes; each eye has but one
lens and can only see what is just in
front of it It had a pair of sharp claws
in the fore part of its head; with these
little pincers it catches other smaller
spiders. When the spider is at rest it
folds these little claws one over the
other, like the parts of scissors. This
spider has eight feet; most insects, you
know, have six. At the end of each
foot 18 a movable hook. It has five
little spinners, or spinnerets, with which
it makes its web. Each of these spin-
ners has an opening which it can make
large or small as it likes. There is a
tube like a little hall communicating
into each of these openings. In this tube
are four little reservoirs, which holds
the “‘gluey substance of which the thread
is spun.” As soon as this liquid comes
to the air it becomes a tough and stron
thread. I suppose the air acts upon it
In some way.—The Growing Age.
The man who loafs his time awa
around a one-horse grocery while his
wife takes in washing to support him
can always tell you just what this coun-
TIMELY TOPICS.
| The "aggregate cost of the several
| bridges that span the Mississi wi river,
i from St. Louis to St. Paul, 4 been
$20,573,000, ranging from $120,000 for
the bridge at Prairie du Chien to $11,-
i 573,000 for that of St, Louis. The annual
| Wiis upon the merchandise cressing the
{river upon these bridges is officially
| stated to amount to $2,803,795, or nearly
{ len and # quarter per cent. upon the
original cost,
~ Emigration at the port of New York
for the first six months of 1880 shows
{ & larger total by 19,000 than at the same
{ period in 1872, which until now had
stood us the highest figure of the past
twenty-five years. The total for the
| past six months is 177,000, or more than
| three times the number of those who
jeame during the same period of last
| year,
| A parliamentary document gives the
{ certified expenses of members returned
{at the last English general election,
| The costs, of course, vary according to
i piace and circumstances, The lowest
are about $2500 in small jboroughs.
But some, especially in counties, go
| over $50,000, At the last general eleo-
| tion, six years ago, tha total cost was
| over $7,500,000, or an average of $11,500
| for each one of the 860 members,
A New York paper remarks editori.
ally that **it is a safe prediction that he
ocean steamship of the future, with its
improved compartment build, its per
| fected code of signals, its electric lights,
| its buffers, its apparatus tor deluging a
fire as soon as it shows itsell, its 1m-
proved lifeboats and rafts, ready for use
al & minute's warning, and its thor-
intrust their lives.
The facts, so far as they are obtain.
able, go to show that New Yorkers pay
out more money for flowers than the
people ol any other city. On New
fear's day, 1844, the sales of the largest
to $200, and the sales of all the shops
then in the city only amounted to about
It is now said that the sales of
to not less than $50,000. The salee
throughout the year extend far into the
millions. Within a radius of twelvs
miles from the center of the city it is
estimated that there are fuily 500 floral
establishments, and that the capital in-
sold are cultivated are on the upper part
of Manhattan Island, in Hudson county,
N.J., on Staten Island and on Long
Island,
There are sixty-four cities an the
United States with a population exceed-
ing 30,000; there are forty-four cities
with more than 40,000; thirty-four with
more than 50.000; twenty-seven with
more than 60,000; twenty-four with
75,000; twenty with more
than 100,000; four with more than 500,-
000; and one with more than 1,000,000,
000, London is a long way ahead of
fall below the American cities. Liver.
peo! ranks below Philadelphia
jrooklyn; Manchester and Birmingham
are below Chicago and St. Louis; Leeds
and Sheffield are below Boston and Balti-
more; Bristol, Bradiord, and Salford
are below Cincinnati, San Francisco and
New Ocleans; Hull, Neweastle and
Portsmouth are below Washington,
Cleveland, and Baffulo; Leicester,
Sunderland and Oldham are below New-
ark, Louisvilie and Pittsburg.
They Wanted to Live In the Stars.
Very near us sat two young people.
three times a day, and that white neck-
There was pearl powder on the shoulder
of his coat, and a tender, dreamy look in
They sat and looked
“Mortimer,” she murmured
of earthly life, the coarse greed of the
world and its animal instincts, that
would be our heaven, would it not,
And Mortimer, he said that it would.
“There, heart of myown,” he said, and
his voice trembled with earnestness,
“my own darling Ethel, through all the
softened radiance of the day and all the
night, our
lives would pass away in an exalted at.
mosphere above the base-born wants of
earthly mortals, and far beyond the chat-
our lives, refined beyond the common
ken—"
And just then the man with the gong
came out. Mortimer, he made a grab at
Ethel's hand and a plunge for the cabin
Ethel jnst gathered her skirts
with her other hand, jumped clear over
the back of her chair and after him, and
away they went, clattering down the
cabin, upset a chair, ran into a good,
sweet old Quaker lady, und banged a bad
word out of her before she had time to
it; down the stairs they rushed,
table, feed a waiter, and opened the
campaign without skirmishing. Iama
man of coarse mold and an earth-born ap-
petite myself, and I wouldn't live in a
star so long as I could find a good hotel
in America; but long, long before 1
could get seats atthe table for my family,
Mortimer and Ethel had eaten two blue-
fish, a little rare beefsteak, some corn
bread, a plate of hot cakes, two boiled
eggs and a bunch of onions, and the
waiter had gone out to toast them some
cheese.
MORAL.
I have, during my wanderings, met
several people who wanted to live ina
star, where earth-born people with hu-
man appetites couldn't trouble them,
and 1 always found the safest place for
an earth-born man when the star-born
soul started for the dinner table was be-
hind a large rock. Distrust the aspiring
mortal who lives in « plane so elevated
that he requires the use of a telescope
when he wants to look down at the rest
of us. And if he ever wants to board
at your humble table, charge him £15 a
week and feed him lots of soup, or you'll
lose money on Lim.— Burlington Hawk-
ewe.
Jealousy of Ants,
The jealousy of ants toward intruders
is well known. Strange queens intro-
duced into their nests are very often
ruthlessly slaughtered, yet it is believed
that communities must occasionally
adopt queens. With the view of testing
how far a temporary acquaintance might
assauge dislike and passion, Sir John
Lubbock introduced a queen, protected
by a wire cage, into a queenless nest,
but when the cage was removed some
days after the queen was al once at-
tacked. Nevertheless, Mr. McCook has
observed the adoption by a colony of a
fertile queen. Such difference in con-
duct, Sir John suggests, may be due to
the fact that his own ants were living in
a republic, for it is affirmed that En
long without a queen are strongly averse
to accepting another. Furthermere, if
a few ants from a strang? nest are put
with a queen they do not attack her,
and if other ants are by degrees added
the throne is ultimately secured.
0 A——
An amateur farmer sent to an agricul-
tural society to put him down on the
try needs to ance her prosperity.--
Detroit Free Press, progpentty
premium list for a calf. They did so.
FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD,
Straw for Horses,
According to analysis made at the
German experiment stations, wheat.
straw has one-fourth the albuminoids,
or flesh-forming ingredients; three
fourths the carb-hydrates, or fat-pro-
ducing constituents, and two-thirds the
digestible matter of good meadow hay,
A lLiorse fed on good hay will keep in
good condition when worked only
enough to give sufficient exercise. 1f fed
cut straw only he should have from six
to eight quarts of oats per diem with
his straw, and if he has mueh work to
do the grain ration should be increased
to ten, twelve or more quarts daily. In
some livery stables when straw is fed, a
mixture of oats, bran and corn meal is
fed, which keeps the animals looking
and doing better than when fed only oats
and straw. It would be near enough
for all practical purposes to call the
straw worth half as much as good hay,
and the other half must be supplied in
the shape of grain. — Country Gentleman.
The Feonomy of Selling
Boiling saves feed snd labor. One
acre of oats will feed twenty-five cows
fora week. An acre of good clover
and orchard grass has fed the same
number four days. An acre of half
grown corn, planted in rows three feet
apart, will feed them for ten days, and
when full-grown will last for twenty
days. Twenty-five cows will use up
one acre of good pasture in one day.
But in soiling all the grouna can be
made to produce two crops, aud some
of it three, and although the pasture
will keep on growing, yet it will not
grow so fast as crops on plowed ground,
and the surface soon becomes soiled and
spoiled by the droppings. On the other
hand, when cows are soiled, all the
manure is saved, and ean be gathered
and put out on the flelds as it may be
wanted. There is economy in feeding
and in saving manure; and in practice
the two savings are equivalent to doub-
ling the stock which any number of
acres can carry. It is a practice adapted
especially for dairy farming on high
priced lands, and where there is a!
market for all kinds of produce. There
are no panaceas or specifies which will
suit every case, and those persons who
make hobbies of things which are use-
ful or practicable in suitable cases, and |
insist they are applieable everywhere, |
will be apt to disappoint themselves and
those who listen to them. The wise
course is to find out what suits each
particular case and then persevere with
it until it is made successful.
Ducklings.
Ducklings are as liable to die of}
chills and cramps as young turkeys, and |
for that reason must be kept from ex- |
posure to cold rains and heavy dows, |
and away from the streams and ponds |
until they are a month or six weeks old, |
When the eggs are hatched by a duck |
she will strike a bee-line for the water |
with her web-footed children almost as
soon as they are out of the shell, and as
young ducks are not overburdened with
sense they are apt to stay in the water |
until they are * wet ual ™ then |
about one-half of them will die with
chills, and the mother duck will wander |
around in the dewy grass until most of |
the remainding half die from exposure. |
{ by chance any survive this course of |
treatment you will find that constant |
exposure has stunted their growth, and |
that they will never make as large birds |
as they would have been had they been |
properly cared for. Hen mothers do |
not show such marked anxiety to get |
rid of their charges, and for that reason
are preferred. As soon as the ducklings
are well oat of the shell keep them in a
coop for about a week. Water that has
hiad the chill taken off may be supplied |
in shallow pans, and the ducklings will
dabble around in it and enjoy it. Have
your duck coops as far as convenient
from the stream or pond, and they must
be moved at least three times a week to
fresh ground. After the ducklings are a
week old, if they had a hen mother,
the pen ay be opened on pleasant days
after the dew is off the grass, and the
mother and her brood allowed liberty
to wander around in search of food.
By the time they are six weeks old their
under feathers will be well out, and they
may be allowed unlimited range. Duck-
lings are great eaters, and will eat almost
anything in the shape of food. Give
cooked food, with plenty of green food,
until they are old enough to have free
range. Almost any kind of food that
ou would give chicks and young tur-
Fo is good for ducklings. Until they
take to the pond or stream, unless insect
forage is plenty, give a little cooked
meat. Feed them often, but never give
all they can possibly swallow; some-
times ducklings will eat until they kill
themselves. After they take to the
water they will pick up a large amount
of the food that suits them best, and for
this reason ducks are economically raised
in the neighborhood of ponds, streams,
wet marshes, or near the sea.—FPrairie
Farmer.
Household Hints.
HANGING vr COoATS.—A heavy gar-
ment like an overcoat, if hung by the
loop at the back of the collar will soon
stretch out of shape by its own weight.
To avoid this, various devices have been
made, some of wire and others of wood.
A piece of hard wood, long enough to
reach from the outside of one sleeve to
the other, will answer this purpose; it
should have a hole bored through the
center, or a loop of strong cord to hang
it upon the nail or hook. Under-conts
and vests may be hung in the same way.
For the “best suits" this little matter is
of considerable importance to all who
desire their coats to not be full in the
back of the neck, and therefore out of
shape,
To Max Boors Warerrroor.—~QOne
simple plan for making boots and shoes
proof against snow-water is nothing
more than a little beeswax and mutton
suet warmed in a pipkin until in a
liguid state. Then rubsome of it lightly
over the edges of the sole where the
stitches are, which will repel the wet
and not in the least prevent the blacking
from having the usual effect.
CHear SORKERS = Vary pretty and
useful sereens are made of the common
laundry clothes-frames, which open in
leaves, by painting the uprights biack
and gilding them, and covering the sides
with crash, canvas or gray linen. A
screen covered with large flowered
eretonne put on plain is entirely useful,
and may be set off with fluted frills,
bands or plain stuff of coarse lace.
The Pronunciation of * U,”
Ninety-nine out of every hundred
Northerners will say institoot instead of
institute, dooty for duty--a perfect
rhyme to the word beauty. They will
call new and news, noo and noos—and so
on through the dozens and hundreds of
similar words. Not a dictionary in the
English language authorizes this, In
student and stupid, the ““u” has the
same sound ag in cupid, and should not
be pronounced stoodent or stoopid, as
80 many teachers are in the habit of
sounding them.
Ifitis a vulgarism to callja door a doah
~n8 we all admit—isn't it as much of a
vulgarism to call a newspaper a noos-
paper ? One vulgarism is Northern,
and the other Southern, that's theonly
difference. When the London Punch
wishes to burlesque the pronunciation
of servants, it makes them cell the duke
the dook, the tutor the tooter, and a
tube a toob. You never find the best
Northern speakers, such as Wendell
Phillips, George William Curtis,
Emerson, Holmes, and men of that
class, saying noo for new, Toosday for
Tuesday, avenoo for avenue, or calling
a dupe a doop. It is a fault that a
Southerner never falls into. He has
slips enough of another kind, but he
doesn’t slip on the long “u.” Asmany
of our teachers have never had their
attention callea to this, I hope they
will] excuse this notice.—Southern
8
FUR THE FAIR SEX,
An Feonomical Fashion,
For the correspondents who ask what
to wear with black silk skirts, there is
nothing prettier, more Greasy and less
costly than a coat basque of light fou.
lard silk of some quaint color and pats
tern on & cream ground, her colors
are used for the ground of such basques,
hut the effect is not nearly as good as
those of creamy white when worn with
any black silk demi-train or else long-
trained skirt left over from a former
season. When worn with long skirts
these basques are of course meant for
the house only, and are then sometimes
cut square in the neck, and this square is
filled in with India muslin, or else a mull
fichu is folded there, leaving an open
point instead of the square neck. If it
is intended that the basque shall also
serve for the street with ashort walking
skirt of black silk, it is cut quite high in
the neck, with a Directoire collar and
revers, and its only ornament is facing
of colored Surah and large, handsome
buttons. The skirted basques and those
with habit backs are the patterns used
Sometimes the panel coat basque is
made to serve this purpose. This has
the sides extending in panels that reach
to the foot of the dress skirt, while the
front and back of the skirt are quite |
short.~ Basar,
Old Malds and Confirmed Bachelors,
Thereare men and women who, like
some flowers, bloom in exquisit » beauty
Panning” for Gold,
When gold has been discovered in any
region (and this usually happens
through some lucky nceident), adven-
turous men rush to the spot in crowds,
and at once look for more signs of it,
This search is called ** pros ing,”
and it is done by parties of two or
three, who ko along the creeks flowin
down from the hills, and test the grave
in the hanks until they find what they
seek. The prospector's outfit consists
of as much provision as he can earry on
his back or pack on a donkey, a couple
of blankets, guns and ammunition, a
few cookine-utensils, a shovel and a
pick, and a gold-pan. The last is the
most important of all these, excepting
food, Itis made of sheet-iron, and is
shaped much like an extra large milk-
pan, The prospectors, who eall each
other partner, or “pard" for short,
sing to divide all they find, trudge
along all day beside their Mexican
donkey, keeping their eyes keenly upon
the lookout, and slowly climbing to-
ward the head of the ravine or guleh
down which the creek plunges. Finall
they come to a point where the gule
widens out a little, or perhaps where a
rivulet flows down from a side-hill, and
rave! has collected,
white sage, while they climb a little
way up the bank snd dig a pit a few
feet deep.
You may sce these * prospect-holes "
all over the mountains, for many times
in a desert wild; they are like trees
which you often see growing in luxuri.
ant strength out of a crevice of a rock
where there seems not earth enough to
support a shrub. The words “old
maid,” “old bachelor,” have in them
other sounds than that of half reproach
or scorn; they eall up to many of your |
minds forms and faces than which none |
are dearer in all this world. I know |
them to-day. The bloom of youth has
possibly fuded from their
wut there lingers round the
and face something dearer than |
that, She %s unmarried, but the |
past has, for her, it may be, some chast- |
ened memories of an early love which |
keeps its vestal vigil sleepisss.y over the
grave where its hope. went out; and it
is too true to the long departed to per-
mit another to take his place. Perhaps
the years of maiden life were spent in
i
cheeks,
form |
ing to listen even to thecall of love, and
she grew old too soon in the care of
mother or sister and brother, Now in
these later years she looks back calmly |
upon some half-cherished hopes, once |
attractive, of husband and child, but
which long, long ago, she willingly
pave up for present duty. So to-day, in
Ber loneliness, who shall say that she is
So is she to the wide circle which she
blesses. To some she has been all that
a mother could have been; and though
no nearer name than * Aunt" or “Bis.
chastened ; the midday or the allernoon
of her lifeis all full of kindly sympathies
and gentle deeds. Though unwedded,
hers has been no fruitless life,
It is an slmost daily wonder to me
why some women are married, and not
a less marvel why many that | see are
not. Butthis I know, that many house.
holds would be desolate indeed, and
brigatest ornament and its best power
were maiden sister or maiden aunt re-
moved ; and it may blesithe Providence
Yonder isolated man, whom the world
wonders at for never having found a
wife. Who shall tell you all the secret
history of the bygone time! of hopes and
love that jonce Jwere buoyant and fond,
which death, or more bitter dissppoint-
ment dashed to the ground; of sorrow
which the world has never known; of
fate accepted in utter despair, though
with outward calm! Such there are.
The expectation of wife, or home, has
been given up as one of the dreams of
youth, but with groans and tears; now
he walks among men somewhat alone,
with some eccentricities, but with a
warm heart and kindly eye. If he has
no children of his own, there are enough
of others’ chilaren who climb his knee
or seize his hand as he walks. If he has
no home, there is many a home made
glad by his presence; if there is no one
1eart to which he may cling, there are
many loving hearts that look lovingly
toward him, and many voices shower
benodictions on his head. —"Life at
Home."
Fashion Notes.
Wide canvas beits are again worn.
Fans grow more and more fantastic.
Japanese parasols grow more and
more popular,
Kid gloves are worn only on cool days
in summer. ‘
The handsomest dust cloaks are
pongee or fine mohair.
Gold lace, gold braid and gold cord
are worn ad nauseam.
A touch of the antique prevails in all
fashionable coiffures.
The dressiest round hats are of cream-
white Tuscan straw.
The feature of the
plaited or shirred waist.
Linen costumes and linen dust cloaks
never go out of fashion.
Fine twilled or satia woven cotlon
fabrics are much in demand.
All fashionable costumes show two
fabrics in the composition.
Biscuit, red and almond shades of
color, are very fashionable.
Corah silk is similar to Surah, but is
figured in printed designs.
Slight draperies around the hips have
taken the place of paniers.
Black costumes take precedence in
the favor of American women,
Black laces are in fashionable for
dress caps for elderly ladies.
Plain black ice wool shawls look
handsome over black silk dresses.
Plain effects are sought for in cos-
tumes for all occasions at present.
Jorah snd Surah silks take prece-
dence of all others for summer wear,
Something resembling a collar is seen
upon nearly every dress this season.
Solid colored muslins are much worn
in the country and at watering places.
Navy blue and gray blue flannels re-
main the favorite fabrics for bathing
suits.
White Surah silk collarettes and
looped bows trim many white wool cos-
tumes.
Sashes beaded ana finished with bar.
rels, spikes and tassels are much worn
Treatment of the Sunstroke,
In case of sunstroke, loosen the
patient's clothes and bathe the head and
entire body with cool water, and with
moistened hands rub the extremities,
the neck, and the whole length of the
spine, rubbing in a downward direction
to draw blood from the head. As soon
us boiling water can be obtained, put a
dry blanket round the body, then wring
flannels from the hot water and pply
them quickly to the region »>f the
stomach, liver, bowels snd spine, over
the blanket; also, immerse the feet in
hot water, or wrap them in hot flannels
as far as the body. Rewring the flan-
nels once in every five or eight minutes
for half an hour or more, then remove
them and apply cold water in the same
way, either by cool towels or sponging
with cool water; dry well and rub the
surface lightly an briskly with the
hand until a glow is produced. Assoon
as the patient can swallow give him hot
water to drink, plenty of it, with oc-
easional bits of ice or sips of cold water.
Often, of course, the attack is so slight
that so thorough treatment is not neces-
sary.-~8t. Joseph (Mo.) Evening News.
of
season is the
nothing lias been found at the botiom
there; and a man who is unlucky
ets the reputation of being a
fer.” and finds himself laughed at
“heir prospeet-hole dug down to where
ful of dirt and carry it down to the
margin of the stream. First having
picked out the large pieces of stone, one
of the prospectors then takes the pan in
both hands, dips up s little water and,
gently shaking the pan, allows the wate
to flow over the edge and run away,
carrying with it the lightest portions of
This is done repeatedly, but
to keep the bottom of the pan always
lower than the edge and at the same
time dip up and pour out the water
without throwing away more earth
than you wish to. Tender manage-
ment for eight or ten minutes, however,
ois rid of everything except a spoon-
ul of black sand, and among this (if
you have heen successful) gleam yellow
particles of gold, which have settled to
the bottom, and have been left behind
in the incessant agitation and washing
away of the earth, because they were
heavier than anything else in the pan.
This operation is called “washing” or
“panning-out;” but it is not quite done
yet, for the “colors” or particles of gold
must be separated from the biack grains,
which are mainly of ironor lead, and b
passing a magnet back and forth Jong
them, these wili be dragged out, stick-
ing toil. The gold is then weighed and
the valine estimated. Nowadays, if &
prospector finds he ean count on three
cents on every panful of dirt, he knows
he can make money by the help of
machinery; but if he ist» do his work
wholly by hand he must collect at least
ten cents from each pan, and in the early
days ihiz would have been thought very
moderate pay. There used to be mines
in Colorado known as “pound-diggings,”
because it was said that a pound weight
of gold a day could Le saved by every
man who worked there.
After testing here and there, our pros- |
pectors decide upon the best part of the
gravel-bank (which they would calla
“bar™), and take possession of a small
tract or “eciaim,” the amount of which
is regulated by law, and this “claim ™
they mark by driving stakes down and
writing their names and the boundaries
upon them... Nicholas.
So IO 555545550500
Queer Things About the Dismal Swamp,
A Virginia paper tells some things
which are not generally known about
the dismal swamp. It is not a vast bog
sunk low in the ground, into which the
drainage of the surrounding country
flows. On the contrary. it is above the
level ground some fifteen ortwenty feet,
as was demonstrated by actual surveys.
Instead of being a receptacie into which
rivers and streams enter and flow, it is
in reality an immense reservoir that, in
its vast sponge-like bulk, gathers the
waters that fall from the heavens and
pours them into the five different rivers
which flow onward to the sea. Any
one would imagine that the dismal
was a veritable charnel-house that
spreads its missmas throughout the
country. On the contrary, it is the
healthiest place on the American conti-
nent. Theswamp is entirely of green
timber. There is absolutely no decom-
posed wood ; one sees trees lying around
the forests and swamps. e two
principal woods that grow in the place
are the juniper and the cypress, which
never rot. They fall prone on the
ground like other trees, bnt instead of
the wood Secompesing it turns into
peat, and lies indissoluble by air or
water for ages perfectly sound. There
is nothing in the swamp to create
miasma; no rising of the tides and de-
composing of rank vegetables; no |
marshes exposed to the burning rays of |
the sun. All is fresh and sweet. and the |
air is laden with as sweet odors as the
fragrant woods in May, when the frag-
rance of the flowers mingles with the
ungent soent of the pine and dogwood.
n the ante-bellum days all planters were
anxious to hire their slaves to shingle-
makers in the swamp on account of its
healthfulness. Mr. Reddick, a well-
known contractor, says he worked a
gang of fifty hands for fifteen years in
the dismal, getting shingles, aud in all |
that time there was not a single case of |
the ague and fever. I have seen num- |
erous affidavits of overseers and agents
who have lived in the swamp their
whole lifetime, and they never knew a
death caused by miasma or a solitary
instance of ague and fever. The air is
pure and sweet, and the water, tinged
to a faint wine hue by the juniper, is as
potent a medicinal drink as is to be
found at the famous watering places of
the Virginia mountain spas. It is often
used by vessels going on a foreign cruise
on account of its healthful properties,
and also because it keeps fresh and clear
for years. It is a strong and invigora
ting tonie, with pleasant taste,
—————————
A Fasting Lunatic.
There was some years ago in the
Blockley almshouse a man named
Thomas Wiggine, who persisted in de-
claring that he was Jesus Christ, and
started out to imitate the Savior by
fasting forty days and nights. He sve-
oceded in doing without food for thirty-
five days, « hen his system gave out and
the process of restoration was begun;
but nature had been overtaxed, and he
lived but forty-eight hours, The first
geven days of his fast he existed on a
small bottle of porter, with a few swal-
lows of water. The porter he finally
ave up, taking only water. When he
ied he was very much emaciated. A
post-mortem examination showed that
all his vital organs were very much con-
tracted—his heart weighed six ounces,
his stomach was one-third the normal
eize and bloodless. In the right lung
there was a terberculous cavity con-
siderably larger than a goose egg; there
were also terbercles scattered through
the left lung. From the start he began
losing flesh, and, despite the exertions
of the attendants, declined to partake of
food, saying he was Christ. Wiggins
was a native of Boone county, Ky., and,
aside from: his peculiar hallucination,
was intelligent and rational, and was a
general favorite with his attendants.—
KISSING,
A Very Ancient Institution = Different
Forms and Significance of Hissing-~
Hispers.
Kissing is the oldest of all the inartica-
ate utterances of affection. The kiss
has a history above all others. Men
used it to salute the heavenly bodies. A
passage in Job, written B, C. 213¢, illus-
trates this, It to the Greeks, and
from them to the
humility and homage. In Homer, Priam
is represented as kissing the hands and
the knees of Achilles while
he sues for the dead body of Restor
Examples are numerous of this kicd of
The custom of kissing was unknown
in England till 448, when the Princess
d, pressed her lips to the cup and
saluted Vortigem with n litle kiss."
TOIN & PASSA ge n * Eve diary,’
appears that men Mori Lob other in
the streets of
the seventeenth century. The Spanish
conquerors found it the custom preva-
lent in the new world. The kiss of
pence was anciently given by the faith-
ul one to the other, as a testimony of
cordial love and affection, Afler the
priest had given the salutation of peace,
the deacon ordered
le to salute
one another with a ho It was
also given before the ist until the
twelith or thirteenth century. Toward
the end of the third century the ia 24
peace was given in baptism. .
of England refused to give Becket the
kiss of peace, at that time the usual
pledge of reconciliation, in 1168,
Shakespeare was very fond of Kissing.
You cannot read a single piay of
" master” without an abundance
of talk about lips and kisses, The fol-
lowing is taken from one of his very
deep tragedies:
“ He kissed—the last of many Jouble kisses.”
“ We'll e'en but kiss Octavia, snd we'll fol.
low,"
# There is gold, and here
My ldusst veins to kiss; a hand that kings
Have lipp’d, and trembling kissing.”
“ Give me a kiss—o'en this repays me.”
“| shall return once more to kiss these lips.’
This is & soldier's kiss.”
mend unto his lips thy favoring hand;
Kiss it, my warrior.”
“Come, then, and take the last warmth of my
embracin
“
And in Cymbeline he says:
“ Or ere I coald
Give hivn that parting kiss, which [ had
set
Remwizt tao charming words, comes in my
tather,
And, like the tyrannous breathing ol the
Shakes all our buds from growisg.”
KISSING NOT LOCAL.
Kisses are not iocalized. The li
though erally associated with
idea of kissing, are not the sole recipi-
The forehead, cheeks and hands
all come in for a share of the Lonor.
And each one has in the rite a peculiar
value and significance of its own.
Kisses on the cheek sXe regard, and
are closely sllied to k on the fore-
head, which signify blessing and esteem.
They are much employe! by aged peo-
ple. They possess, 100, the great advan-
tage of ing non-comn.itinl. Then
there is the kiss of custom, the kiss of
duty, ‘he p ugal kiss, the filial
kiss, the playful kiss, the kiss of be-
trayal and the kiss of passionate devo-
tion and intense temperament:
“ A man hath given all earthly bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this—
To waste his whole heart in one kiss”
The Rev, Sidney Smith said: ** We
are in favor of a certain amount of Shy
ress when a kiss is proposed, but it
should not be too long, and when the
fair one gives it, let it be administered
with warmth and energy—Ilet there be
a soul in it. If she close her eyes and
sigh immediately -after it, the effect is
greater. She should be careful not to
siobber a kiss, but give it asa humming-
bird runs his bill into a honeysuckle—
deep but delieate. There is much vir-
tue in a kiss when well delivered. We
have the me of one we received in
our mouth which lasted forty years, and
we believe it will be ane the last
things we shall think of when we die.”
Gilbert Stuart, the portrait painter,
is said to have met a lady in the streets
of Boston who accosted Lim with: ** Ab,
Mr. Stuart, I have just seen your like-
ness and kissed it, because it was so
much like you.” “And did it kiss you
in return?” “ Why, no.” “ Then,” said
the gallant painter, **it was not like
me,
When Charlies II. was mak his
triumphal progress through England,
certain country ladies who were pre-
sented to him, instead of k the
royal hand, in their simplicity held up
their pretty lips to be kissed by the king
—a blunder no one would more
Wikingly excuse than the lover of pretty
Neil Gwyn. Georgiana, duchess of
Devonshire, gave Steel, the butcher, a
kiss for his vote nearly a centurywines.
and another equally utiful woman,
Jane, duchess of Gordon, recruited her
regiment in a similar manner. A kiss
from his mother made Benjamin West
an artist. * Kiss me, mother, before 1
sleep!” How simple a boon, yet how
soothing to the little suppliant is that
soft, gentle kiss. The little head sinks
contentedly on the pillow, for all is
peace and happiness within. The bright
eyes close, and the rosy lips are reveling
in the bright and sunny dreams of in-
nocence. Yes, kiss wother, for that
good-night kiss will linger in the mem-
ory when the giver lies moldering in the
rave. The memoryof 8 getle mother's
i has cheered many a lonely wander-
er's pilgrimage, and hal the
beacon-light to illuminate his desolate
heart; life has many a stormy billow to
cross, many a rugged path to climb, and
we know not what is in store for
little one so sweetly slumbering, with
no marring care to disturb its ul
he parched and fevered lips
will become dewy again, as recollection
bears to the sufferer’s couch a mother's
love, a mother's kiss. Then kiss your
liitle ones ere they sleep; there is a
nage power in that kiss which will
endure to the end ot life.~2voy Times
How a Murder Was Discovered.
From a private letter by Sir J. H.
Lefroy, lately governor of the Bermuda
islands, Professor Moseley extracts an
account of a singular discovery of mur-
der. Inthe autumn of 1878, a Bermuda
woman suddenly Sisuppenred. Her
husband was suspected of having caused
her death, but as no trace of the missin
woman could be found, there seem
little probability that the crime would
be detected. A week after the disap-
arance, however, some Somervilie
tmen, looking out toward the sea,
were struck by observing in the LongBa
channel, the surface of which was ruf-
fled with a slight breeze, a lung streak
of calm, such as a cask of oil usually
diffuses around it when in water.
The feverish anxiety about the missing
woman suggested some strange connec-
tion between this singular calm and the
mode of her disappearance; and the
spot being found to remain, severa' men
visited the place in a boat two or three
days after it was first noticed, and
the bottom of the channel. The re
sult was the finding of the nearly flesh-
less skeleton to which a heavy weight
was fastened. Some bits of clothing
roved the identity of the body. The
Pusband was a fisherman, and 2
Bay channel being a favorite fishing
d, he calculated, truly %
that the fish would very soon destroy
all means of identification; but it never
entered his head that as they did so,
their ravages, combined with the pro-
cess of decomposition, would set free the
oily matter which was to write the
traces of his crime on the surface of the
water. The husband was found guilty
and executed. Professor
lieves this case must be of
y be-
unusual in-
Jot 0 shoe,
And that's the least of all my care
“ | would wot change with squire,
“ For oll bis Inod snd m sey;
There's thorns for him as well as me,
But not couch roses bonny ! i
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
A sus suade—An eclipse.
Out un the Ay—Various fish.
Round to matrimony—A bridal path.
A four in hand Is worty two in the
1 e talked of for 1.
The indisidual who points y
is the woman with a
some ring.
people ss than he iy of Phi adetpbin.
elk ae mie or Tl es ve 6 TE
wn Va 33,000,000 poulatd $208.
casions,
eri Eo he une uy
A barber is not
isbor
alwate s oo 1
oo
ig
oo
3
ity
;
i :
It is claimed by some
that smoking weakens
Maybe it does, but
medical
the
know | was an author, eh
Fred): * No, I didn't; and if
my advice, you won't let
know it if you can help it.”
Lite is too short to waste
In oritie peep or cynic bark,
"Twill soon be dark;
Ay! wind thine own sim, and
God help the murk!
Two boys in Paris settled a
by having a duel with knives, C
threw at each other. One
killed, and
father of
FETE
Eis
A |
ul i
Lx
i
:
and open eye
rapid win 2
A
Beats Shakespeare all Hollow.
A printed circular has been sent forth
{from Gallipolis, O., from which the fol-
Jowing statements are extracted:
‘ « Benlet and Melleen Treelawn’ is the
the title of a mew play, in five acts, by
Joseph Wilson, a young nan whose
home is in Putnam, a little vil-
lage known as the Ninth Ward of Zanes-
ville, O. In leisure . Wilson
has devoted his attention to the com-
tion of this play. It will be ready
epi oa Sh fa
year it wi printed in pam
and sold throughout the earth.” An
extract from this impending marvel is
here appended :
Unler. 1
Glad to hear thet vou will romain
Solo
Benl. Nol never have.
Under. Never been in Troy, N.Y.?
Beal. No, or ay a
. then, you never have
much.
traveled
Benl, Well, I cannot say that 1
AA
ties fe 3
1 n 1h :
am
with ne
Philadelphia Telegraph.
terest to medical men.