A peaßpww attarasr, "hfle trying s oauae. Was qalsstas s witness and looking for flaws. Ite witness, who owed htm s personal grudge Provoked htm until he appealed to the Judge -1 dsmsnil. Mr," he ertod, with s fiery-rod fees, •• A Utile attention whOe trying this esse." •• Tow honor," responded the meek Uttls man, "I* paying as little ae any onsoaa." The Judge, with s frown, Looked solemnly down On the squabble, and said, from tho bench whore he sat, " We want nothing hat Wlenae, and little of that,- v n. Bald young Romeo Butte to Wise Clsribel Outts, (As U>ey>tood in a parlor resplendent with Utt), With a wearisome sigh, "Oh,l oannotteU why, But somehow, I feel like a fool here to-night Bald Was Claribel Outts to Romeo Butts, WRh a pMßeas mile that she oonld not oon oeal : " Tee. your face woold betray,l am sura, what rmmy, For you certainly look all you say that you feeL" "Oh, husband !" said Mrs. Ophelia McMnnn, As she gased at her willful and passionate eon' " Where that boy got his temper, I Dover could see; I'm certain he Dover could take it from me." "No doubt, my dear wife, your aaeortiou is true— I never have missed any temper from you." Chicago Trihunr THE STORY OF TWO SINGERS. An Italian vessel had reached the shores of America. The passengers bad landed. The wealthy had been taken to their hotels or their friends' homes in carriages. The poor folk, who still hat! some certain destination and some one to greet and meet, had been led away tinder friendly guidance, after many embraces and much gesticulation, or had taken cars and omnibusses for the purpose of reaching their homes and the welcome that awaited them. Borne, poor and forlorn, were wandering vague ly about the Battery—the prey of emi grant boarding-housekeepers—and one, poorest and most forlorn of all, sat upon ' a bench under a great tree and wept 1 silently. Bhe was a woman. She was ; young and of the peasant class. Her husband had died upon tne voyage. Bhe had not a friend in America, and some thief had stolen her purse from under her pillow, as she slept between her little children in her berth in the steerage. She had only a great bag, with a few j shabby garments, and these two chil dren, and a pair of earrings, which she | might, perhaps, sell for a little bread— ' in all the world. As she stared oat j upon the water, which bad swept swsy ; the body of her dead husband, and which still covered it, she was very I miserable. " If it bad been the Lord's will that I also should be buried in the sea," she . sobbed. "I and my children." And ! she bent her bead upon her hands; her ' eyes were blinded with tears; she saw nothing of what was going on just then. " Mother 1" cried the eldest child. " Mother, look. The bad boy has car ried off our bag." The poor creature started to her feet. ! Bhe stared wildly about her. A boy was running away at full speed with the bag of clothes on his back. Uttering u scream, she began to ran at full speed. People stared at her, but did not know why she ran, or understand that the in- ! terpretation of her cry was "stop thief." The boy outran her very soon; her breath failed her. Bhe saw him turning a corner of the street, and regardless of the wagons, eon and carriages in her path, dashed across the road. Thoie was a cry—a crash ; a policeman strode < out upon the crossing and stopped the vehicles, and the body of the Italian woman was lifted from the ground ; her i black hair fell over her ahonlders, her eyes were fixed, her face pallid, and the yellow kerchief about her hood soaked < in blood. No one knew anything about her. They carried her to the hospital; i thence to the morgue. Afterward she | was buried where they bury paupers. j, When their mother ran after the thief, : i the little girls sat where she had left i them, for awhile; each was playing with something. To amuse them their mother had riven them her earrings two hoops of gold. . They had their own little ears pierced, bat as yet there were only threads in j ! them. Their father had promised that, when be made hia fortune, they should I have gold earrings like their mother's. ; I But their father was buried in the see, 1 and their mother was poor. It did not i seem likely tbey should ever have rny i of those nice things that they had been promised when they came to America. Howevor. children are light hearted, and | they were on land again and not stuffed it to the steerage of the crowded ship; | sod they had no doubt that their mother < would catch the boy with the bog. They jdsyed with the earrings and stared at j' tbo pedestrians and at the carriages, j, with uo anxieties about their mother, i until they grew hungry. Then the youngest began to cry. " Mother stays a long wLile," said the oldest. "Let us go snd look for her, ] and tell her we wont supper." And < awsy they went, hand in hand, each clutching her earring. The eldest was s handsome girl of eight; the youngest a Utile aix-year-old beauty, wonderful to contemplate. Tbey •poke only Italian, of oouise, As they ! wsadmod on looking for their mother, *od growing more and more frighteuo-i at every step, there came mnrdnng up ( Broadway ,a military procession. The j bugles blared, the drums beat, the ben- 1 sen wvod, a crowd of hangers-on ( tramped over the sidewalk. Rough mm nod boys took no heed of the little i ei, ami they were at lost separated, oldest was helplessly pushed for- I word by the crowd ; the little one, who had clang to the railings of s reetau rant-wms left behind. *' When the procession end the crowd had passed, she still sat there, weeping bitterly. " What a beantifnl child," said many, and one or two spoke to her, bat she did not understand, and oonld not answer them. At last there came along the street an old Italian with an organ on his back, and a monkey perch ed upon it. He paused in front of tho restaurant and held ont bis hand to the child. " What has happened to the pretty little girl ? Has she lost herself ?" he asked ; and the child, glad to hear words that she could oomprehend, told him her story. The old man listened kindly. " Dr T your tears,pretty one," he said. " Wo will find yonr mother, and mean while, yon shall hare supper with mo and my monkey. Bee what a One monkey. He will shake hands with yon. Pepa, shake bauds with the pretty lit tle girl, and bow." The monkey put ont one brown paw and took oil his velvet cap by the crown with the other. His pranks smused the child. Bho trotted along by the sido of the organ grinder, and had maoaroui with him in a dismal little room in a terribloold to no men t house. Bho had no doubt that be could fiud her mother for her—her mother and her little sister Franceses; for Bianca was only six years old, and at that age we aro always hopeful. But the old man who.ofter tfie frugal supper, went nbont to do what lio could to find the child's mother,soon learned the truth. Ho knew Bianca was the child of the poor woman who had been killed ; and though he kept tho knowledge to him self with a dread of mysterions ovil, per sonal oonscqnonoes peculiar to foreign ers who do not quite understand the lawH of tho land—and scarcely to be wundcrod at—ho generously resolved to take care of the little girl, to whom ho did not t£ll tho truth. Bianca believed that her mother would soon come back, until she forgot her grief ; but the old man bonght a little bit of black ribbon and suspended to it the solitary earriug. " Never part with it," he said. "It is a memento of your mother, pretty one." He had n little poetrv in his breast, as most Italians have, though he was only a poor organ-grinder. Every day when he went out with his monkey ami hia organ, he took the child with him. Bhe held the plate, into which the patrons of this cheap ! concert dropped their coin. After awhile, he taught her to sing some little songs. Italian children can always sing ; ami it w„s no loss to him to have adopted this little creature, for ho never made half as much before, ! The child brought him luck. One day a 1 musician heard her sing, anen window of a certain great hotel. " Bhe is said to be charitable," ahe said ; •• at least she would tell a poor girl if it might be possible for her to earn her living by her voice; where to apply; what to do." And, full of that ardent trust in human nature which ia part of youth, she tied on bar poor little hat, and made her way through the wretched streets in which she lived to the great thoroughfare in which stood the hotel which was the prima donna's home. "Can I see signora?" abe asked timidly of a servant who answered her timid ring. " Well, it isn't likely, young woman," said the msn ; " she's just going out to ride. Does she know you T " No," said the poor girl; •• but"— " Oh—begging, or something, I sup pose," said the roan. '• No. yon can't." " Let me be the judge/ said a aoft voice ; and a beautiful lady clad in vel vet swept toward her. " What have yon to nay to me ?" she saked, kindly. And Bianca was about to reply when she suddenly caught sight of something pendent from a chain which the lady wore that struck her dumb. It was an earring—a hoop of gold—the mate to that about poor Bianca's neck. Bhe re membered bow her mother had given ono to each of them to quiet them on that day when she sat deeolste upon a foreign shore. Strange fancies filled her mind. Oonld this be Franossea ? If it were, would she not despise the poor organ grinder's adopted child f— an ignorant girl, so shabby that the servants took her for a beggar. '• Oome along with me, my child," said the beautiful yoabg lady, "At least you are of my country. I know it by your accent. We have that tie. Come." Bho led her to her sumptuous apart ment, snd closed the door. " Now, let me know what you cams for," she said, smiling. Bianoa bent her head, trembling. "I oame for something else," ahe said, bnt I oan only think of one thing now—that hoop upon your chain. What is it? Where did you get it f And you look—oh I you look—you are like She faltered and paused. " This bit of gold," said the lady, "is all I have to remind mo of my lost mother. I wear it for that. And be sides—l have been told that it may bo a means of—of— Bhe broke off and covered her face with her hands. "Why did you notice the ring?" she said, " Of whom do I remind you ?" "Of my mother," said Bianoa. "Mv mother, who ou the day of our arrival iu this conntry, left me with my sister upon the Battery. Bhe was killed in the street, though I did not know of it for yearn afterward. An old man—good and kind, but very poor—cared for me. I never saw my sister again. I came to see you, signers, to ask you wliat one could do with a good voice and love for music, but with little musical education. I heard you were charitable, but—Oh, signora, what does it mean ? As we aat on that bench on the Battery, my sister and I, our mother gave us each ono of her golden earrings to play with. Bee ! I have mine yet." Hho drew it from her bosom. "Your name?" criod the prima donna. " Bianca," said the girl. " I am Franctsca ! " cried tho other. Bhe held ont her arms, and the next moment the two girls sobbed upon each other's bosom. Franceses had been adopted by a rich man, who had developed her great tal ent by all the menus in his power. And now she herself was winning fame and fortnne. A great joy had oornc to her in tho restoration of her sister, and she took her at once and forever to her heart and homo. And the old Italian, in tho comfort of a luxurious hou e and the society of his adopted daughter, who soon followed in hei sister's footsteps, and became a great singer, fonnd himself well repaid for his kindness to tho orphan child, and ended his days in peace and happi. noes. Why they Explode. The Scientific American explains Uie philosophy of keroeenn lamp explosions. Read ami learn how to avo:d danger : All explosions of petroleum lamps arc caused by the vapor or gas that collects n the space above th© oil. Of course, a full lamp contains no gas, but immedi ately on lighting th© lamp consumption of oil t>egins, noon leaving a space for gas, which comment** to form as tho lamp warms np; and after burning a abort time sufficient gaa will accumulate to form an explosion. Th© gaa in a amp will cxplo lc only when ignited. In this respect it is like gunpowder. Cheap or inferior oil i* always th© most danger ous. Tlie fl-.me is communicated to the gas in th© following manner : Th© wick tube in the lamp-burner* is mad© larger than tho wick which ia to pas* through it. It would not do to have the wick work tightly in the burner ; on tho contrary, it is essential that it move up and down with perfect ease. In thi* way it i* unavoidable that space in tho tube is left along ti c aiu© of the wick sufficient for the flam© from the burner to pass down into tho lamp and explode th© gaa. Many thing* occur to cause the flam© to pass down tb© wick and explode the lamp. 1. A lamp may be standing on the table or mantel, and a slight puff of air from the open window or door may ennae an explosion. 2. A lamp may be taken np quickly from a table or mantel l and instantly exploded. 3. A lamp ia taken into an entry where there in a draught, or out of door*, and an explo sion ensue*. 4. A lighted lamp ia taken up a flight of stairs, or is raised quickly to place it on a mantel, resulting in ati explosion. In these instances tho mis chief i* done by the air movement,either by auddenly chocking the draught or forciug air down the chimney against the flame. 5. Blowing down the chim ney to extinguish the light ia a frequent cause of explosion. 6. Lamp explosions have been caused by nsing a chimney broken off at the top, or one that has a piece broken, whereby the draught ia variable and the flame unsteady. 7. Sometime* a thoughtless person puts a small sited wick in a large burner, thus leaving considerable space along the edge* of the wiok. 8. An old burner, with its air draught* closed np, which rightinlly should be thrown awav, ia sometimes continued in nse, and* th final resnlt is au explosion. Hew te Utilise Old Fruit Can*. Perhaps one of the moat appropriate naee of an old fruit can that can be de vised ia to make it contribute to the Kiwth of new frnit to fill new cans, ia ia done in the following manner: The can ia pierced with one or morn pin boles, and then sunk in the earth near the root* of the strawberry or tomato or other plants. The pin holes are to be of such size that when the can is filled with water the fluid can onlv escape into the ground Tory alowly. Thus a qnart oan, properly arranged, will extend ita irrigv tion to the plant for a period of several day* ; the oan is then refilled. Practical trials of thia method of irrigation leave no doubt of ita success. Plant* thus watered flourish and yield the moat bounteoiia returns throughout the long eat drouth*. In all warm localities, where water ia scarce, the planting of old fruit can*, aa here indicated, will be found profitable as a regular gardening operation. — Scientific American. A Uremetlve l u a t|airk*and. The Leavenwarth (Kan.) 7*mcs nan: Mention m made in the Timr dnring the summer of a singular accident which oecnrred on the Kansas Pacific road at the bridge crossing Kiowa creek, forty two milea eaet of louver, in which an engine attached to a ireight train went through the bridge into the bed of the creek, instantly disappearing in the qnick sand and baffling all attempt* to recover it For the pact si* months tbe search for tbe '•>, wing leeomoHve |gg been kept np, rear.Huig bi aw* *e c wo or three daya ago, when t waa funnd hurl-d forty feet deep in the quicksand. The sand had been removed for a gnat num ber of yards around tbe seene of tbe die sppeanuoe of tbe engine, a hydrantie ram being used, the locomotive being fonod at Uat after a search of six months. The instance is one of the most remarkable on record. Heett'i Poetry la Wester* Prose. The train had withdrawn from the eaatle, but Marmion lingered behind to bid adieu to Donglasa. " Though something might be explained," he said, "of cold respect to a gentleman sent hither by your king's beheet, while in Tantallion s towors I stayed, part me in friendship and noble earl, receive my hand." But Douglass was out of sorta, and taking another reef in the band of his ulster, said : "My dear sir, my manors, halls, towers, et cetera and so forth, are open at my sovereign's will to whoever he de sires to send hither, no matter how un worthy such a ono may be to stand in tho presence of the gentleman who now has the floor," and he looked Marmion straight in the eye. " My castlee are my king's alone, he continned, " from cu]>ola to the basement kitchen, but tho band of Douglass is his own and never ahall in friendship clasp the hand of such as Marmion carries so jauntily in the breast of his cntaway." Ho saying he thrust his hands in his pantaloons pockets and turned on his heel. Marmion was the maddest man in town. Hi 1 swarthy check burned until it was red as a lobster and aliook his very frame for ire. " And this to me I" ho yelled ; " an' 'twere not for thy gray hairs snch hand as Marmion had not snared to cloavo the Dong lass head aa if struck by lightning, and I'm not so snro bnt I'il do it anyhow I And I tell thoo haughty poor, he who does Eng land's mew.age bring, although the meanest politician in the country, may well, proud Angus, be thy mate I And furthermore, my gentle gazelle, even in thy pitch of pride, nero in thy hold, thy vasealn and lick spittles near—take yonr hand ont of yonr hip pocket or JH smash yon—l tell thee thou are defied I And if thon naidat I am not peer to any lord in Boot land, Lowland or Highland, rich or poor, Lord Angus, yon re a liar 1" and lie shook his list under the Douglass nose. It wna now Douglass' turn to get mail, and he improved the excellent oppor tunity cffeisd. At first he turned white and purple about the gills, and hia ears wagged in awful silence. Then he broke forth: *' Dnreat thou to beard a family of royal Bengal tigers in their den, the Douglass in hia hall ? And hopeat thou thence unscathed to got No; by Saint Patrick of Both we 11, no! Up draw bridge, grooms I What, warder I let the portcullis fall, *Dd be lively abont it, while I take it out of the fellow's hide 1" Tb© warder and grooms wore on deck in an instant, bnt a moment was lost in running to the kitchen to get the key of the portcullis from the hired girl. Lord M arm ion turned—well was his ucnina- Rny bonnet* ami ban*. Frank—l am going to college. Hnaan—What will yon do there ? Frank—Cnt capers. Susan—l am going to Dover. Sarah—What will yon do there ? | Hasan—Dreas dolls. Sarah— I am going to Erie. Rnasel—What will yon do thero? Sarah—Eat egg*. Rnaael—l am going to Fairhaven. Grace—What will yon do there ? Rnaael- Feed fawn* with frog*. | Grace—l am going to Grecnbuah. Howard—What will yon do there t Grace—Qive gold to girls. Howard—l am going to Hanover. Sarah—What will yon do there ? Howard—Hunt vrith hounds and bomea. The party goe* through the alphabet in the above manner. Whoever cannot answer readily, after doe time is al lowed, most suffer some penalty. The Hangmen's Record. In the United States daring the pest yenr ninety-six murderers (all men) were hanged—an increase of thirteen over the reoord for the previous year. Of thia nnmber forty-one were white, fifty-two colored, two Indiana and one Gbmaman. Five wore banged for out rage, and fonr for wife murder. There were seven double executions, four triple and two quadruple. Friday te tain* the reputation as hangman's day, seventy executions having taken place ou that day. The largest number in any one month was in March; twenty-five exe cution* having then occurred. Seventy per cent, of the hangings were in the Southern States, and nearly two thirds of the victim* wore colored. In Texas t.*wware tea- Lou is* an*. t-Jnc; Ala LJStm, eight; South Owwbu*, eight; Carolina, eight; Pennsylvania, six; Missouri, five; Georgia, five; Ten nesaee, four: Arkansas, four; California, four; Hew fork, three; Kentucky, Vir gink, Montana, Delaware, Ohio, Mis sissippi and Maryland, each two; Mas sachusetts, Ariaona, Florida, New Hampshire, Indiana and Nevada, each one.— New York Humid, lkvi§L£ V I® CLAY OH CBOWH. UurfMN.Oij H.lw. Hi. VIM la Behalf ef the RlrW-Wkai Keape frmm lie Ifce Plaaee mf Karat. Cousins M. Clay writes to the Rich mond Reaitter as follows : I was pain ed to see In your jonrnal lately an ao connt of the slaughtering of the crows, without protest. Nature seems to have provided for the greatest sum of animal life. First vegetables, then insects, and then high er animals, man standing at the apex. All insectivorous birds are the allies of man; withont birds the human race would have a hard struggle for exist enoe, and wonld perhaps be exterminat ed. Over all the world the great breeders of famine—the locusts and grasshoppers—are ruinous only where birds cannot exist. Tho swarms of locusts, which the Bible tells infested Egypt, exist yet, and will exist until trees shall be planted or saused to grow in all places whore grass grows ; then the birds will have come and destroyed the locusts. Bo the same law pre vails in interior Africa and in the United Htates. All along tho Platte river for hundreds of miles, wherever I saw a few treea and ahmbs there were hawks hovering over to ponnoe down upon and destroy the birds. The prairie chickens are de ft royed by mnn, and between those two ullifcß the birds are lost and tho locusts spread ruin; every green thing is eaten, and men fly for life to other lands or perish I The phylloxera in Franco, a small in fect, has inflicted, by the ruin of the vine, more loss than tho German war ! In early years our Htato was full of woodpeckers and kindred birds. They ate some apples and other fruit; our fatliera destroyed them. Then our veg etables were flue and perfect; after the birds have l>een killed we are overrun with insects; perfect fruit and vegeta bles are now almost unknown. B j I believe Uut lb© quails or par | tridgcs, th'jn(,h gramnivorour, aleo do ; stroy many insects. Whilst all onr ' ; "tbcr bird* feed mc-tly upon insects, c every bird Laa hia special habitat B j Th© swallowi, several species in Kcn j tnckv, feed on th© wing; the owla upon | th© tipa of treca aiid leave*—pinching j j off insects, often tin wen by th© natural p j ©ye. The wren and sparrow are verr n activo feeder* near and npon the ground t | When th© pea* are sown I have observ ed the sparrows following the lint* and , ; picking up the nea Img* aa they emerge | from th© ground. There are many birds f which pock th© roa© bnah and grape j vines. All the woodpecker and aap t | sucker trib© cat bugs and not sap. t For many yeara I have kept a box f nailed to a tree near my library window; ] I feed about a quart of crumbs and hominy a day. Last winter I counted I fourteen varieties eating tbera, among others, the beautiful red-birds, which, ' though naturally ahy, have become almost aa tame aa the sparrows. I had rather a sportsman would shoot down ! and carry off a pig than on© of those | beautiful songster* I And now with this preface I com© to 1 tb© crows. For long years I have ©eased my early war upon th© crows. They are eminently insectivorous. The " j crow, when the weather is very ©old, . | will ©at tho ©yes of weak, prostrate 1 lamb*, other birds' egg* and young; take corn from the ground when it is j fl**t sprinted, and follow and ©at the soft, half jligeated corn from fed cattle lin the field*. But for all this they I should never be killed. In man© lands | the buzzard, a* a scavenger. in protected by law. The crow in aleo a rooat act,ire I scavenger, bat, a* I aaid, ia mostly in seetivorou*. I dissected ycmng crow* ; in the neat, and never fonnd a aeed or ; grain of oorn. I found bugs, beetle* and, aboTe all, cab rpillara. Thi* morn ing, all orcr my blncgraaa pasture, the ( mercury atan ling at twenty-eight de gree* Fahrenheit, and a thin cruet of frozen earth and a fine enow existing, tliere were tbonaanda of err ore feeding. They were eating graaa and the egg* of grasshoppers. In France the government pay* a ! Price for the gathering of theae egga ' Here the crowa do the work mnch more effectively for nothing. I have in my i life aeon whole meadow* a tripped of blade aud seed by graaaboppera. Who i ; <*n aay that the crow* do not keep n* i ' from famine f Tlio annonnoement by j your paper of the deatruetion of the j 1 crow* atrnek me arith the name aenaibil- I ity aa if one had txiaatcd that be had ; dried up all the we 11a and all the r-pring* jof the county 1 Should I aronae the , State to paaa efficient law* for the pro j teetion of crowa and other birda, I | will bave done more for my country I than all tho politician* and warrior* ao | juatly made illuatrioua. Daman a* a RucllDu ; One night at the theater of S n Carlo, j Naplea, Dnroia the elder (fhe oclebrat j ed French novelist), found himaelf ehat i ting familiarly with a atranger who, when th rlay wa* ov r, aaid to him patronizingly : " I have greatly eujoyed your oouver aation, air, aud hope to aee m ire of you. If ever you viait Pari* call on roe, I am Alexander Dnmaa." "The deuce yon are! So am 11" re- Elied the noveliat, with a roar of ■ughter. Ry the way, Dnmaa left Napiea under peculiar circumstance*. One fine morning he printed an arti cle in whioh be handled the Italian people in a manner more vigorous than courteous. At eight o'dock the paper came ont; by ten Dnmaa received thirty chal lenge* ; by noon, alxty. At one r. a. he called a meeting of ti.e 120 friend* of hia challenger*, and aaid nnto them : " Gentlemen, I leave Naplee to-night, and therefore have not time to light all your principal* aingly. Neverthelee* I am anxious to give than all the satisfac tion that ia in my power, ao aa I have the choice of weapons I propose fight ing with piatola; your sixty principal* will be collected into a group, and an re ceiving the word fire a volley at ma and I'll blase a war into the crowd." The proposition wee not accepted. A tailor on board a vessel in the har bor of Zanta having been atrnek by lightning, there was fonnd cm hia breast the number M. being an exact oopy of tho same figures on a part of ship's rigging. ... r* i. LIFE on THK KAIL. Pern Ptriarn* •( Tra>M*ra. Ik)b BardMto, the paogmt [rtgru>h er of the Burlington Hawktye, DM been traveling i good deal by rail lately, and be supplies his paper with the fol lowing amnning picture* of noma peo ple he met on the cerw : nnvma A *KAT. A woman with three bird cagee and a little girl, baa jnat got on the train. Hhe arranges the tbreo bird oagea on a seat, and then she and the little girl stand up in the aisle and she glares around upon the nugaliaut men who re main glued to their seat* and look dreamily out of the window. I bend my face down to the tablet and write furi oualy, for I feel her eyes fastened upon me. Somehow or other, I am always the victim in caAes of tide delicate na • ture. Just as I expected. She speaka, fastening her commanding gaze upon me. I " Sir, would it be aaking too much if f begged you to let myaelf and my Utile girl have that seat 7 A gentleman can always find a scat so much more easily than a lady." And she smiled. Not the charming oat kind of a smije. It was too trium phant to be very pleasing. Of course I surrendered. I said : "Oh, certainly. I could find another aeat without any trouble." Hhe thanked me, and I crawled out of my oomfortable seat, and gathered up my overcoat, maun scrip*, my shawl strap | package, my valine, my overshoe*, and she and the little girl went into the vacant premises as soon as the writ of ; ejectment had been served, and they looked happy and oomfortable. Then I stepped across the aisle ; I took up those bird cagee and set them along on top of the coal boi, and set I down in the seat thus vacated. I apolo ! gelically remarked to the woman, who ; was gazing at me with ar> expression thct boded trouble, that "it waa much warmer for the canaries by the stove." Hhe didn't say anything, but *he gave me n look that made it much wanner for ne, for about five minutes, than the stove can make it for the canaries. I don't believe she likes me, and I am un comfortably oonfldent that she dis approves of my conduct mnoß or cojrviutsATio*. A friendly passenger wants to talk. I am net feeling particularly sociable thia ' morning, and consequently 1 do not ; propose to talk to anybody. He aaks how I like this kind of* weather, and I, i y. "splendidly." lie laughs feebly, bnt encouragingly, and says there has been a litUc too much snow. I say, " Not for health, it was just what we needed." He asks if I beard of the accident on the Central railroad, and I say, "Yea." Then he arks me how it was, and I tell him, "I don't know; didn't read it" He wants to know what I think of Hayes, and I i ay, " I think he made a i very good con able." " Constable. ' he says, "I mean President Hay I say I tbo fht be meant Dennis Haves, of Poor.?. Then he asks f I " am going far f" I say, " No." " How far ?" he asks. " Ponrteen hundred miles," I say, unblnahingly. He thinks that is what be would call "far," and I make no response. Two liabiee in the car arc rehearsing a little and in rather faulty time, but with fine expression. And the man. with one or two " dashes," aaks it if doesn't bother me to write with a lot of " brats squall ing around. I looked np at him very severely, for it always make* me mad to hear a man call a baby a " brat," and I say to him. in a alow, impressive manner,* that " I would rather listen to a baby cry than hear a man swear," Thia eminently proper and higfaly moral rebuke has ite efloet. The man foraakes me, and be is now wreaking a cheap miserable revenge on the smiling passengers by whistling " My Grand father's Clock," accompanying himself by dramming on the window with his fingers. jnTKjrci.K IKORATnTDK. A woman jrot* on the train and nay* a very warm-hearted good-bye to a great cob of a aixteen - year-old boy, wbo seta down ber handle* and tarn* to leave the oar with a gruff grant that may mean ; good-bye or anything elae. There ta a i little quiver on ber lip at the calls after him: "Be a good boy; write to me often, and do aa 1 tell TOO. " He never looks around m he lea era the oar fie looka jnat like the kind of a boy who will do jnat aa ahe tell* him, but ahe moat be carefnl to tell him to do jnat aa be wants to. I have one bright apark of consolation as the train moves on and 1 aee that Imy performing a clumsy satire on a clog dance on the platform. Borne of these days he will treat some man aa grnffiyand rudely aa he treats his mother. Them the man will climb on to him and lick him— pound the very sawdust oat of him. Then the world will feel better and hap- Kfor the licking ha gets. It may be ' deferred, bnt it will come at last. I almost wish I had pounded him my self, while he is young and I felt able to do it He may grow up into s very dis couraging!* ragged man, utreaiydli flenltto lick, and the work! may have to wait a very long time for Una act of jnatice. It frequently happens that these bad boys grow ap into distress ingly bad men. Pee! 17 Pstttira. • Poetry and politics have not modi affinity for each other. There is vevy little poetry shoot polities, and vice versa. But when the moae does conde scend to enter the political arena it makes a big strike. what con Id be mora suggestive than the following lines from the May*rill© (Ky.) RutUUn f Where be your sweet singers now f Listen : If yeeateat ObaaUr'tmd. B* aora and rota for J, J. Waod If ysa'd aujoy fruit* rick sad rata. Don't UM present tarn*. anseasi tie anal Will And tbaSmedy la J. P. Las. Thm comm IMetarish to Um van. Von couldnt tod a brttrr aaaa. Bat that your joy ttert te so last In,' Utopsbt It* fia**a Qsryfe HHTieke! Pro** *n (riaswe * litest a scratch, Tate "0. X. 8." and yes teva ta* batak