————————— ———————————" TWO COUSINS---A RONDEAU. And so you vow 1've grown strait-laced, And call me prude, and say I'm fickle! You tell me how we've often raced To reach the bank where cool drops trickle, You seem to think I'm still a plekle Add never can be taught good taste; - And yet you vow-I've grown strait-laced, And call me prude, and say I'm fickle! That down is long enough to tickle, And I'm too old to be embraced; It almost forms a double sickle, And shan't be over my lip placed; “That's why you vow I've grown strait- laced, And cail me prude; and say I'm fickle. HRT Sn LE THE MISSING WITNESS, «I'm afrmd it is a bad case,” I said to myself as 1 laid down my brief after roading it over for the third or fourth time, and leaned back in my ohair to reconsider it for about the twentieth. «A bad case, and I am sorry for it.” 1 was a barrister, young both in years and in professional standing, and this was the first brief of any importance I had ever held My client was an Italian sailor named Luigi Bernini, and the crime of which he was accused was robbery; the plun- der being the life-long savings of a woman upward of eighty years of age, which the poor creature kept hidden in the thatch of her little cabin, The witnesses were the old woman herself, theft, and a neighbor who deposed to having met the prisoner in the immedi- ate vicinity of the cabin. When Ber- nini was arrested some days later, a curious foreign coin, identified as a part of the missing hoard, was found in his pocket. This, howeyer, he accounted for, by saying that he had picked it up on the road. The weak point in the chain of evi. and had afterward adhered to this state- ment with what appeared to be dogged obstinacy, rather than real, true oon- wicti~n, The prisoner himself positively de- at all on the day of the robbery, but unfortunately he could not speak with certainty as to his whereabouts, He had been lately dismissed from hospital, scarcely convalescent, after a bad fever; his own ship had leit the port, and he had been rejected by the captains to whom he had offered his services, as not being sufficiently robust for a sailor’s work, therefore, took to wandering aimlessly of her again. His mind had been weakened and confused by his illness, snd sithough he knew that for several days preceding and following that of the robbery he had been in a part of the country fally twenty miles distant, he could not positively *say where he the day in question. many persons interviewed who remem- bered ‘the poor foreign chap,” but no sccurate information as to dates was forthcoming, As the testimony of would not, unfortunately carry much weight in a court of justice, I had to trust for a defence to the cross-examina- tion of witnesses, whose character for veracity I hoped, by judicious manage- ment of the nsudl forensic weapons, to compel them to annihilate with their own lips. dence, as I was strongly prepossessed in favor of the prisoner; something frank and honest in his face making it difficult for me to believe him guilty of the cowardly crime of which he was ac- cused. Beside, it was, as I have said, my first important case, and self-interest and professional instinct alike prompted me to desire its successful 1ssue, But of this I had little hope. 1 laid aside my brief at length, and went up to the drawing-room, where I was greeted by my cousin and hostess with a somewhst petulant repreol for having lingered so long over those musty old law papers, Alice and I tad been children to- gether—a big girl and a little bcy—we had grown from playfeliows into friends, and since her marriage her house in Carrigarvan had been my resting place in assize times. 1 was at no loss to un- derstand ber vexation al my tardy ap- pearance, She was somewhat of a matchmaker, and having no one but myself on whom to exercise her talents, she had devoted them exclusively to my service, She had already decided on a suitable wife for me, and was now exerting herself to the very utmost to bring about the marriage, The chosen young lady was present, and I knew that Alice was much an- noyed with me for devoting the evening to my brief instead of Dora Lyne. The 1atter was the danghter of a solicitor in goed practice, and was herself a v pretty, bright looking girl, who Thc | 1 was compelled to admit, be a most desirable wife for a young,unknown bar. nster, I was thoroughly fond of Alice, and she was my chosen confidante, whenever 1 needed one; but I could not tell her even that the true reason which pre- vented Dora liyne's brown eyes and aweel voice their due impression on me was the remembrance of a {ace seen but during a three hours’ railway journey, a face with dark gray eyes and quiet, Shoughiifal expression, aud of a voice heard at somewhat rare intervals in the space of time, whose full, low. pitched tones still vibrated in my 1mag- ination, Alice would have been too good natured to laugh at me, but 1 felt ware tnat, had she known the state of the case, she would have entertained, end probable expressed, fears that over- study had affected my brain, an oplmon that would probably have shared by all persons whose characteristic was ©0ommon sense. ' Miss Lyne, perceiving that Alice was ' | vexed with me, and wishing, I think, to show that she did not share the feel ing, oalled me over to look at some prints and photographs she was exam- | ining. “Alice,” said Miss Lyne, at length, “did you show Mr, Lestrange that sketch “you found in that book?” “No,” said Alice, “‘I forgot it, You will find it in that volame of the ‘Stones of Venice’ on my table, Rich- ard. It is really a beautiful sketch, I wonder how 1t came to be forgotten in the book?” I brought the book to Dora Lyne, who turned over the leaves until she found the drawing. which she put into my hands, The moment I saw jt I uttered an exclamation of sur. prise, which brought my cousin to my side. It was a spirited water colored sketoh of a man's head—a dark, foreign- looking face, surmounted by a red cap. It was, however, neither the skill of the artist nor the picturesque beauty of the model that a%tracted my attention; it was the fact that in the somewhat peculiar features of the latter I recognized those of my client, Luigi Bernini, “What an odd coincidence!” said Alice, when I had explained. ‘‘J. won- der who could have taken the sketoh— some one who knows how to handle a it. “See, here are initials and a date, but they are so faint that I cannot make them out.” “Let me try,” said Dora; good sight,” She took the sketch closely. “W. M. D,, bat I cannot make out the date, tenth, 18-—." “May tenth-—why. taat was the very day o! the robbery,” 1 said, | full significance of this | turned giddy. “The alibi!” I gasped— | sketch, we might succeed in proving the alibi,” ready quickness, | from, was it notpAlice? They ought to | be able to tell you there who had it | May.” | is, will have to be hunted up,” I said, tiand there is so little time, nesday. I suppose Morrison's is closed by this, Alice?” | “Indeed It is,” she answered, | You must wait patiently nntil to-morrow, | Richard.” i ! | the batter, | The following morning found me at { Morrison's Library. | charge of the library department, from | whom I totally failed to obtain the re- | usually attended to that part of the business was away; if I could call next | week-— me, at the time, | self-control, that most praiseworthy next week would | not do, giving a partial explanation | of the circumstances. Bat the clerk, although apparently willing to help do 80, “You see, sir,” said he, *il yom wanted to know what book any sub- | seriber had out at a given time I could { probably tell yon, but as for ascertain. | ing the whereabouts of a special book— { it's an impossibility, If you like to look | over our entries for yourself, you are | welcome to Jo so,” I accepted this offer, and spent a good part of the day turning over the blotted pages wherein were inseribed subscribers of Morrison's, And an un- profitable morning's work it was, The record was to all appearances imper- fectly kept, aud I failed to trace the second volume of the ‘Stones of Ven- ice” through a pericd of longer than three weeks, duricg which time it had twice changed hands, Some hours more were spent in hunt. ing up the persons in whose possession it had been for that length of time, neither of whom could give any infor. mation concerning the sketch, An ap- plication to Bernini himsel! was equal- ly fruitless, He remembered that a lady and gentleman whom he had met during his wanderings had asked him to sit to them, but he did not know who they were, nor could he even make it clear where the imcident oc- curred. 1 returned home at dinner time, tired and baflied, to report my failure to Alice and her husband, from whom 1 received munch sympathy, but no sug- gestion of practical value. I had given up hope, and was endeavoring to dis- miss the subject from my thoughts, when late in the evening the hall door bell sounded, and a message came up that a person wanted to speak to Mr, Lestrange. Going down, 1 found wait- ing for me a bright-looking boy, one of the shop agsistants at Morrison's, who had been for a short time aiding in my investigation of the entries, “¥ think I have what you want, sir,” he said, as I entered the room. ‘It was in my mund all that day that I had given ont that book to some one, I couldn't think who, and a chance word that I heard this evening brought it all back to me like a flash, It was to Mrs, French of Redeourt that I gave it, and it must have been on the third or fourth of May, Here i= ths lady's name and address, sir;” and he handed me a slip of paper on which was written, Mrs, French, Redecourt, Kiloarran,” It was in Kiloarrap, or the neighbor- hood, that, scoording to Bérnini's own statement, ho had spent the day of the robbery, Thanking and dismissing the lad, I returned tc the drawing-room with m e, The next step was to CL cate with Mrs, French, Kiloarran was fully fifteen miles from Carrigarvan, and the trial was to begin the following morning. “Hand me over that railway guide, Dick.” said Alice's husband, “1 thought so —no train before ten, There's nothing for it but for me to drive to Kilearran the first thing in the morning the mare can easily do it in two hours ~and if I find that any one there oan give evidence worth having, I'll bring them back with me, and have them in ocourt before the case for the defence opens” The trial began next morning, pro- ceeding at an unusually rapid rate, It seemed to me that the learned counsel for the prosecution had never before put forth his wisdom and legal knowledge in so condensed a form, The cross-exam- ination of the witnesses was of course in my hands, and 1 did my best to make it as tedious as possible, totally failing, however, in my attemps to confuse them or enuse them to contradict them- selves, My only hope now lay in the unknown witness, and of him there were no tidings. The ease for the prose- oution closed, and the court adjourned for lunch; I was standing in the bar room, thinking over my speech for the defence, and mentally re-arranging my sentences after the manner of the most prosy member of the circuit, when a note was handed to me: “All right—the witness is in the sher- iff 's room.” Going into the sheriff's room, 1 found my cousin, accompanied by a strange **This is the prisoner's conusel,” the former, ws I entered, said “Allow me I turned to the lady as her name was bow, in my surprise and delight at me my dream of the last six my nuknown love, another | whom had been my chief | desire over since I lost sight of her | as she stood on the platform of the little roadside station where she had | alighted, “It was Miss Darcy who did that | members all about it.” “Yes,” said the girl, “the sketch was i Having by a few hurried questions | Daroy’s testimony, I took her and placed | prisoner, latter for a minute or two, and then said | She looked attentively at the | “Yes, that is the man.” I opened the case for the defencas in | as possible, and then Hhe stated | that she lived at Rdeourt with her | sister, Mra, French, and that on the | tenth of May she and her cousin spent | the greater part of the day sketching | by the river side at Kilcarran, At about | two o'clock a gust of wind had carried her hat into the stream, whenoo it was recovered by the prisoner, who hap- pened to pass by at that moment. In. terested by something io his appearance, with him, bat without much success, | his English being very imperfect. They, however, managed to make him under- stand that they wished to employ him | as a model, and he sat to them patiently for more than an hour, at the end of which time he went away with many ex- gratitude for the money they gave him, Miss Darcy would have (which was produced her cousin aad the ninth of in court) as arrived at Kiloarran on May and left on the | Cross-examination failod to cast auy her veracity was of | The jury professed themselves satisfied with the evidence, and pronounced a verdiot of | “Not Uailty,” The prisoner was | scized upon by some of his ocom- | patriots, who were serving on the | mixed jury, and carried off in tnumph, somewhat dazed by the change in bis prospects, Some months afterward a man, dying from the effects of a hurt received in a drunken brawl, acknowledged himself guilty of the erime of which Bernini had been scoused. He also was an Italian, and bore sufficient resemblance to Lis countryman in height and com- p.exion to account in some degree for the mistake of the witnesses, As for me, I date the beginning of both my professional sucoess and my life's happiness from the day of Ber- nin's trial Chicago Cheek. * May I bave this seati” she asked of the genteel looking drummer whose bag- was occupying it “[ don’t know, ma'am.” he answered politely. *‘It belongs to Lhe railroad, you know; but 1'll see the conductor, and may be he can give it to you.” . She grew purple and said. “You don't understand me. | mean, can I take It4” “Well, I don’t know that, either. Youn pee it 18 fastened very firmly to the car floor, and would be troublesome to get up; however, 1'll have a carpenter {0 come on board at the next station and ask hus ad. vice." +4 don’t want to take the old thing, ’ she howled. *‘Is this your traps on 1?” “No'm,” blaandly answered the drums. mer; ‘they belong to the firm 1 travel for.” “Well, can [sit down herel” ste fin- ally screamed, after shifting from one foot to the other, «1 don’t know, madam; you are the best judee of your muscular powers." “Where do you travel fromi” she “Chicago,” he replied. “That settles it,” she said meekly; ‘will you please move your valises, and permit me to ocoupy a small’ portion of this seat?” . “Certainly,” he replied, “why didn’t you say that at feat?” The train sped on, while he sat count. ing up his ex and she wondering it Ohieago prop ogo. any equal under the sun. An Indian Trias In the Bummer of 1847 a young brave was tried in Michigan for the murder of a chef. The trial was conducted in accord- ance with the unwritten law of the In disns. IL 18, or was, an Indian custom that when a murder is commitied among them the murderer flies to the protection of the chief and band to whom he is the nearest akin, and remains there until the chief secures a court or council for his trial. In the meantime the murderer must remain in the wigwam of the pro- tecting chief (unless the latter accompany him forth) until the court assembles, ‘I'he chiet who is nearest of kin to the murderer calls the court in conjunction with the medicine man. It is alwaye held in a new wigwam in which no one has ever slept, eaten or lived. The wigwam on this occasion was large enough to hold about two hundred persons. When the time for convening the court is fixed, all the relatives and friends of both sides are secretly notified, and they at once begin to make preparations for the feasts which are to be celebrated in the forenoun in the village where the court 18 1 con- vene in the afternoon. The chiefs and relatives of the murdered man meet in one wigwam, and the medicine man, the chiefs and the relatives of the murderer meet with the latler at another wigwam and feast together. This party has brought the presents which are to be given by the medicine man during the open trial to the family of the slain. After tbe feasts are ended the prosecuting parily march in single file to the new wigwam, which they enter with funereal solemnity, Zressed in their gayest attire. The most distant relative filed in first, walked half way across and sat down op lhe The wife and children of the defendant party made front of the wigwam very quietly, shaking 8 semi circle and then hands with (How do you do?) The murderer was & forlora picture of human medicine man sullen, depravity. were the last soal 10 denote his sorrow, and his blankets pathy of his opponents. The in the ogntre of the wigwam, with the criminal on one side ard the presents on the other to be given In froot of ths wigwam perhaps a hundred lodisos, come to witness the trial of who had All dealh the speakers, in council on the great This fools chief. friends, felt When we, his heard this bad very sorry in to-day. And we are sh Ww you buy of you reistives and news, we all mel bere to to try and the, life of this , The medicine man now ar ried across the wigwam some new Indian Mackinac Disnkets, and sud them down in front of the mourniog family. here me and car- He aod pro his own family. sixteen years old, has to hunt and get food for his mother her other children. His place the council is vacant, sod this makes us all (dar wl for TH in there (pointing to his stricken family); his 3C Cle<ba sod bis spirit hunting grounds We all mourn, 1 is gone Lo the great beyand the selling sun, we 3 pv wir brother. There were other speeches, and the med- young. The prisoner re- mained silent and motionless, and did not look up. ‘Lhe medicine stowed more gifts, All him as he took from his fawn-sgin pouch a plug of Cavendish tobacco, carefully With dint and punk and steel ready, in a very unpressive manner he thus addressed the eourt: “Brothers, we have met here before the (ireat Spirit, who sees us all, who knows why we are met, who sees into our hearts, who knows what your tongues have talked, and what your hearts have thought, and He knows what these presenis are that i have carried over and given to this fam. ily to make peace. “*Now, if you are all true to each other, snd intend to settle ihis trouble, and let thie young man live who has brought it into our hearts and wigwama, then I will have to strike this flint once only with this steel to Light the pipe of peace,” All on both sides responded **Ahl” in token of assent, There was a momentary pause, and every eye was turned upon Mus-kah-ke- ne-ne-ne, or medicine man. For the first time since he entered the court the murderer lifted his eyes and fixed them on the medicine man's nght arm that was raised to etnike the flint. The steel clicked against it, and in an instant there arose from the ignited punk a curl of smoke--and the pipe of peace is lighted. The medicine man imperturbs- bly takes a few whifls amd moves, emo- tionless, across the space, and offers the pipe to the son of the murdered chief. Onca—but the ‘boy took it not. Again 1s it offered, but not & muscie moves. A third time, aad still there is no sign. The medicine man was about ts turn away, when the boy's mother quietly touched his arm and looked an appeal for him to take the pipe. He instantly obeyed, ook one whiff, and then it was handed to the widow. Up to this stage in toe tnal the proceedings have been conducted with the utmost decorum, but now the widow gives way io a wall of sorruw, while tears run down her cheek in token of her deep loneliness and her mourning for her murdered husband, She arew a whifl, and 80 procisimed ber tor. giveness of the crime. The mediator goes on from judge to judge (for they are all judges bere), There are two young men md « way of the circle, cousins of the murdered chief, They had declared their unwilling. nest to forgive. It is the unwritten law that if any relative of the murdered dead can not forgive toe slayer, then in « pia coun cil, where the pipe of peace is offered, he who will not smoke it may rise and in the weners! nrosence kill the murderer witn his tomabawk., It wag the sapren: manent / when the medicine roam stood ap before the inexorable avengers and presen.ed the | pipe to the first of them with unusual de- | Iiberateness. The young brave was in a | quandary, What should be dof He seemed to struggle with Lis impulse to | brain his chiet’s destroyer, but when the | pipe was offered to him ihe third tune he | slowly reached forth and with it ok a | single whiff. The other followed huis ex- ample and the deep suspense was ended, Then all except the murderer smoked again, and one by one the offending par- ties shook hands and glided out as undeui- onstratively as they had entered. - tl RA Catching Whales, An old whaleman says: 1 have been in the business 8 long time. [ first went | to sea when I was 12 years old, and | had command of a ship at 20. 1 have been round the world three times, and killed 800 whales. By that 1 don't mean that I first struck them all—by no | means. That 18 done wilh the iron, as we call it—what you call the harpoon. 1 mean I have lanced so many. The best man | ever had with me was a Bhinpecook Indian, from the east end of Long Island. He was with me seven years, and rendered me jmportant serv- jces 1m some cases in which I thought | any other man I ever koew would have | been unable to act quite in time or with | sufficient strength, coolness, and dex- | terity. One day 1 was out whale rode my boal; up and threw himself right scress the middle of it, and, of course, broke it | in two and instantly threw us ail into the sea. I beheve he did it by acci- dent, coming upon us in thal manner merely because we happened to Jie in | his way. 1 recovered mysell and got | into the mate's boat and helped to get in my boat's crew. The whale, in a few minutes, made his appearance again did not observe him, | The boast was crowded, having two crews in, and I was sittiog with a lance in my hand and the line which belonged to it | about my feet. Suddenly wy Indian | called to me: “Look! He's coming!” And | 1 saw the whale swimming right down | toward us, just ready, I thought, to strike | our bows with his hesd. 1 had heard 1t with lum and a | that is, he came it will stop him 1mmedistely, as it seems | to take tum right aback, and be will sud- denly op sad turn away. I determined to try 1% and struck him with my iron | and wounded him deeply; but he did not | mind it inthe least. On be came, and the | pext thing 1 knew 1 was deep in the | and going deeper; sod, what | sround my ankles, and Kpew that when it | ughtened 1 should be tied tight] for one | end was fastened to the bost and the other 1 strove to clear away the took me 8 Jong time to get the other free. | However, 1 sucoeeded, and then began 10 This, as 1 have remarked, I slways had presence of | mind enough to do; and I can tell yon it 1s highly importani. Oilher men gener- ally do not slop to look, but do what they first think of, and #0 are as hkely 10 jump into danger as oul it. 1 mever took much time, commonly a single instan!, a single turn of my eyes was sufficient; and 80 it was in this case. I Jooked above me od saw it was dark, and therefore 1 was under the whale. 1 then attempted to swim out a little one mde, but that brought me against his fin; and then “1 dove,” kmnowiog that the fins of that kind of a whale were very broad, s ot pre- gets between them. When 1 bad swam were in company, and very near esch be haz. 1 should I thought it maght ardous Vo rise among them, as moment for them to pass | This they soon did; and 1 was giad once more on the tp of the water, where I could breathe; for, al been under it much less strength somewhat reduced. 1 got into the boat and began to get all ready and pursue the whales and get one of them at past. Seeing one of the crew In the stern- sheets, bending over the water, I ordered him to the bows, and was surprised snd a nittie vexed that he did not obey me. 1 did not at first see that 1t was my Indian; but I saw at the next glance that he had a man by the hair, who was sunk in the water. Gong to help him pull lnm out, 1 discovered that he was a young man who had shipped for the voyage for the benefit of his health, sod had a large circle of highly respectable relatives in the Uaited States, to whom his death He was a man of uncommon stature and frame, spd had gained so much flesh ai sea that he was almost unmanageable even in the water. 1 attempted to ssast my faithful Indian, but found my grasp so much weakened by exhaustion that I des- paired of getting hum into the boat, when 1 reflected that my crew bad been strug- ghng with the waves as well as myself. 1 then resolved to save the young man if posmble, and gave orders to row for the ship, which we reacted, dragqing the young man after us, managing after a while to get his head and shoulders clear of the water, and afterward to pull lum into the boat, When we came alongside, thay lowered a tackie-fall, and we howted him on board, where many hour: were spent in endeavors to restore him. They were at last successful; and the boat which 1 had sent after the whales on reaching the vessel, returned with one of the best of them. which they had taken. It 1s thought by many persons tbat the most dangerous thing that can happen to a man is to be thrown into the air by the blow of 8 whale, 1 have not found it so, although 1 have had frequent experience in that vay. It is certain that the strength of the anima) is so great that nothing ean withstand! its direct force; bul a man may be thrown up with a boat without being struck himself, and without having his booes broken or his skin torn by the tim- bers, and then he has nothing to fall mto but the sea. Now it always to me to be unhurt, and 1 got only a ducking, and was usually soon picked up by an- other boat. 1 have been thrown a dis tance of several rods through the mir, and, put it all together, 1 suppose the eolire distance that 1 tave bees thrown wv whales must be sbout a mile! F Log vig Ooty Hindle. Tie seversl loguieg camps of Woods, Pack, Periy & Co., in Northern M-chigan, have 1urne out au aggregate of 40 000,000 feet of lumber iu the season just closed. The camps are scattered along the Au Sable and Pipe nvers, some of the logs floating one hundred and fifty miles before the mill is reached. The logs are hauls d from where they are cut to the river on low bob sleds over a carefully prepared roadway, These roads, after & spow foundation 1s formed, are carefully scraped with a pstent scraper. Then a sprinkling car, with an abundant flow of water, 18 run over the road at night, This water freezes snd makes the road-bed a mass of solid ice. Esch spowlsll 1s care- fully scraped off and the flooding process continues until the icy driveway i 18 or 20 inches above the surface of the adis- cent land. Thus built, the road-beds are firm and not as susceptible to a thaw a8 the ordinary snow-packed roads. In lay- ing out thess roads a distance of two miles fourth of a mile distant. in making 1t perfectly level, or what with a slight incline toward the objective pont of the loaded sleds. On such magnificent roads immense hauls can be made and the in bmilding and carne In the company office 1n this city is a photograph of the largest Joad of logs ever drawn by & single tenr of horses, The picture was taken at Otsego Lake, Micthigsa, the head waters of the Au Bable niver. There are 21 pine loge 60 feet long, and ihe load 50,008 feet of good umber, board measure. The hollow butte, bark This is requisite on A close estimate of the weight of $0 tons The team pounds, and be apart, the neck yoke The “bunks’ or bol- which the load rests logs rise LO 8 The boss of the weighed about horses stand wide o.200 5 HJ height of about 16 feel camp, six feet tall, stands DY the side of wd and hus hesd wiih the third tier of Jogs. The runners of the bobs are about four inches thick. The bobs are connected b cross chains which run from the heel of the tront bob to the toe of the rear ope, crossing in the centre. ‘The load was bauled a distance of a mile and a quarter. A few years ago three or four of these logs, scaling 1,500 or 2,000 teet of even have largely con- tnbuted to the increase. The next largest haul on record was made in anolber camp of the company. This losd consisted of 20 pine logs, 52 feet long, scaling 20,000 feet of good lumber. This was hsuled three-fourths of a mile. These logs are loaded by means of skids which reach from the ground to the load. By means tackle the horses roll the isto plsce with the logs greatest case, up se——— cs A A Five Cents a Day. power Of The cumulative fact very generally apprecialec. are few men living at harping on 0 existence by employment, or pensioners, it may be, on the bounty of kindred or friends, but might, by exercising the smallest partic ie of thrift, ngidly adhered 10 in the past, have set aside a respectable sum wbich would materially belp them 0 marian their independence in their old age. Let us take the small sum of five cents, which we daily pay 10 have our boots blackened, to ride in a car the distance we are able to walk, or to procure a bad Cigar Wwe are better without, and see what its value is We will suppose a boy of fitteen, by blacking his own boots, going without Lis cherished cigarette, puts by five cents a day; in ome year he saves $15, which being banked bears interest si the rate of nve per cent. per annum, compounded bi- yearly. On this bssis, when our thrifty money 18 & There age of 75 some the § dy slender 4 set his five cents per day religiously aside surpris- po lefts a A scrutiny of the At ing. He has socumulsted sum than $2,895.18. progress of this resuit is inleresting. the age of thirty our hero had $395; ai sl fifty, $1,667; at sixty, $2,962. After fifteen years’ saving, his annual interest more than equals his original principal; in twenty-five years it 1 more than double; in thrty-Lve years it is four umes as much; in forgy- five years it 1s eight times as much, and the lsst years’ Interest is $56, or ten and sa half umes as much as the annual amount he puts by. The actual cash amount saved in fifty years is $912.50, the difference between that and the grand total of $3,8030.17—wiz., $2,080.67 is ac- cumulated interest. What a magnificent premium for the minimum of thrift that can be well represented mn figures! ——— i ——— Leave It. “How shall | eat an orange in soci- etyi” asks a reader. Now, what in all the world do you want to eal an orange in socsety forf They are not there 0 eat but to jook at, or to hold mn a void, clammy way.n your hand, or roll off your plate while you are using both hands to steady it. But if you will per- mst in peng odd and eccentric, and est. ing your orange before the world, there are several ways of sacrificing it and yourself. First, oatch your orange. Then skin it gently, and throw the pulp away. Or you can quarter it and choke to death on the sections. Or you can dissect it, toy with it, and run your own clothes, and your bost’s furniture with the julce. It 1s usually adventure enough for one evening, to cut the thing up. Bither it is a ripe orange, and holds a cistern full of juice whith squirts all over creation, or it 1s dry with a hide like a rhinoceros, and nothing inside. You can impale yourself on either horn of the dilemma. The only safe way 10 eal your orange 18 to leave it. Sansui AMI ARI 5 33 — April Events, the month of April. On the 19th of April, 1776, the battle of Lexington was fought, the beginning of the levolution. In 1861, on the 15th, Fort Sumter was taken, and on the 19th, the mob attacked the Massachusetts t m Baltimore. In 1865, on the 3d, fell; on the 9th Lee surrendered, and om the 14th Lancoln was assassinated, A sini I I IIIS, A runsace should be like a gooa singer—-able io Yeath the upper regis. *
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers