Lines to the First Fly of 1H79.
Dance on tny nose with you ' inkling loot.
blue tsittle fly'
Sing in my car* with your buss to greet
Me. ns ir.
VtHi will seek me out in my *lork retreat,
With an eager zee) I hut no screen can tieat,
Ami I try to slnp you clear into th sweet,
Sweet, by-anil-bye.
f haven't seen you since 'seventy -eight,
Little house fly;
Anil I see you now with the bitterest hale
You can defy.
Oh, how I lutte you, nobody knows,
Author or hull of my summer woe**,
Oh, how I prayed that you might be I rose,
Villainous fly.
All through the winter you did not lrcwse,
Not much, Mary Ann.
Now all the summer you'll do as you please,
That is your plan.
When, in the warm afternoons, we would sleep,
Near us your wakefbleet vigils yon'll keep;
Precious is sleeping, but waking is cheap,
Sleep, man, it you can.
Oh. how I wish that uiy two broad hands,
Spread left and right.
Stretched from tlx- poles to fciquator's lunula,
Giant* of might.
Some summer day in my wrath I would rise,
Sweeping oil space with my lmiuls of sire,
And smash all the uncounted million of flies
Clear out of sight.
Vain arc my wishes, oh, little house fly.
You're hard to mash;
Strongmen may swear ami women may cry,
•Teething their gnash;
But into the house your friends you'll lug,
You'll bathe your feet in the syrtip jug,
And your cures you'll drown in llie Iwbv's mug,
Cheeky and brash.
Still, precious lessons, dear little house fly,
You leach to me.
lluled or loved, you tell me that I
Happy may tie.
Why should 1 lore, wlmn 1 tickle a nose,
Whether it* owner's eonduct shows
That he like** it or hates it, just so it goes
Pleasant to me.
•This line should read: "Gnashing their
teeth," Imt a little |sK-tic license waa Decenary
to bring in the rhyme.
Burlington Hau-kryt.
TILT.Y.
" Asked Tilly?"
" Y*"s, actually I heard him myself
Did you ever!"
Miss Rosic Green, for an answer
looked unutterable tilings. Miss l\>si*
Green took oft her sundown and fanned
herself vigorously with it. Sh*- looked
warm; her faee was flushed with feeling
no less than with the weather. She anil
her sister w-r<- no longer as youthful as
their names suggested. Moreover, irri
tation brings out the lines and wrinkles
of a face, and it is unquestionably irri
tating to l- passed over for a slip of a
thing with a doll-baby faee, not one's
own flesh and hlfNsl at that.
"* it's all pa's fault." Miss Rosie pur
sued. presently. "He does spoil that
girl so abominably. There will Ik- no
enduring her presently."
"I shouldn't Is one fiit surprised if Mr.
Leonard makes so much of Iter just to
please pa. Men are such time-servers.
Of course it's to his interest to keep in
pa's giHiil books."
"There they go now!"' cried Mia*
Reisi*- in an excited whisper, flying to the
window, anti fs-eping through a crack in
the shutter.
" For goodness' -ake. don't give her
the satisfaction of seeing you look at
her."
"I don't care whether site si-es moor
, not —not a rush. Tiiat old pink calico
•in! Ido tli ink sin- might have had t In
decency to make herself look respecta
ble. riding out with pa's young man."
"Pa's young man! What away to
put it!"i
" Well, isn't he, for the present? He's
reading medicine in pa's office, I'm sure,
and In-takes the messages that are left,
ami tells pa afterward. For my part. I
think be is bound to be civil to pa's
daughter's."
W ell, In- is being civil to one of them."
" Yea. That's the worst of the way
pa treats Tilly. It's real unjust to us.
Hateful little piece!"'
A ease of cruel step-sisters, you are
thinking. However, there was no tic
either of blood or of marriage in this in
stance. Dr. Green had adopted Tilly,
brought her with liini when he moved
to Wood bridge fifteen years ago. She
was a mere baby then, and his wife was
still living, and cared for th*- child like
her own. She was a motherly soul, and
loved babies. Hep own girls had left
infancy half a scon of years behind
them. Since h* r death lift- hnd not fx-en
■osmooth for Tilly. Perhaps th** Green
girls would have hc*-n kind to another
person in the same situation, but th*-y
certainly made life a burden to their lit
tle adopted sister. There is no account
ing for likes and dislikes. It did not
prove Tilly morally deficient because
site aroused the worst feelings in Rosie's
ami Posie's nature*. It is an unpiensnnt
mystery why certain antagonistic na
tures should Is- subjected to eertnin ex
asperating frictions. There arc those
wliotii it sets wild to fee I the down of the
peach. Others bite through the skin
with unalloyed enjoyment.
Mr. l^-onard—lie hop*-*! to Ik* Dr.
Leonard this time next year—drove a
fast horse liefor*- a shining new buggy.
It was a bright day. anil he had a pretty
girl beside him. ills spirits rose to the
level of the occasion. Tilly and lie
laughed and talked in n way that would
have driven Miss Posle frantic. I specify
Miss Posie, because h-r sister had ac
quired two or thn-e years' additional
resignation in which to h*-ar th*' ills of
spinstorhood; wall-flowering had be
come almost a second nature. Hut Tilly
laughed on regardless. She was happy.
John I/Ponard was the handsomest, best
mannered. the Ix-et-dressed young man
she hnd ever 1 nown. and he had singled
her out r hi i-speeial favor. She was
willing to believe anything of an nuspi
eious fate.
John 1/onard compared her mean
while to a wild rose, her hlooin was so
exqnisitc, h<-r whole cffi-ct so dainty.
Her large dark eyes were wonderfully
bright and shining. I am afraid she
wan quite unaware how much they
•vowel as she raised tliein to John *
face now and again. Prudence should
have kept them averted.
" I burned my finger to-day," she
■aid, displaying it, "taking the baked
custard out of the oven."
"Why. the poor little finger I And
rach had stuff ** custard is, alter all." |
"Do you think no? I'll likes it."
"Yes. So did my mother. She al
ways considered it iui csptwijl treat. I
was a tender-hearted chap. It made me
unliappy Itecausß I hated it; It seemed
" "Pllly thought this delight (hi trait.
•• We often have custard." she pursued.
•It's so hard to think up new kinds ol
desserts." ,
" And a great waste brains.
•' l'erhaps it is. I often wish I had
more time for improving my mind."
•• You should take the time," dogma
tised John. He had had it on Ids mind
to say this. It struck him that Tilly's
education was shamefully neglected.
Site wrote a wretched, scratchy little
hand; she stumbled in reading aloud an
ordinary newspaper paragraph ; she had
once committed herself to the opinion
that Vienna was in France. It was
strange that beauty eouhjMteso illiterate
I —strange ami a shame. The poor child
1 was kept drudging from morning till
: night, rooking, sweeping, dusting. Why
didn't those two sisters of hers nut their
; shoulders to the household wheel P It
l was all they were good for. Some one
; had said that Tilly was not old Green's
<>wn child. The more fool she to wear
herself out in his service; hut women
! were apt to he finds; they would slave
; themselves to deatli for any man who
] gave litem a kind word. At least so his
I mother had always said. And old
(iron was certainly affectionate enough
to the girl. Poor little tiling, who
| could help Isdng good to her? All tills,
1 while he kept up at the same time an
! animated conversation witli Tilly.
Nor was that the last drive they took
together, lie asked iter all the oftener
when he saw it made the "wicked sis
| ten," as he dublHsl them, angry. As it
! proved, lie askisl Tilly far oftener than
was good for her. This was only an
episode with him; with Tilly it was the
most real experience of her life. John
j IjConard seldom talked of his plans, hut
slie had mappist out his career for him.
When lie graduated in medicine he
! should become her father's partner, and
finally relieve her father of the burden
! of Ids practice, and then—and then
! Tilly always herself shared these air
| castles with John.
This was a long, long time ago—he
fore the war, almost; accurately, at the
very breaking out of the war. Those
drives occurred during the April and
May when the first regiments were put
in the field. At tirst John hunanl,
who was an (Englishman. escaped th*-
war fever. 1 >-t these brothers tight out
1 their own family quarrels. Hut gmdu
, ally the soul of the war clarions "passed
; into his blood." He must have a hand
lin this himself. A man must In* long
somewhere. So he coolly informed Dr.
Green one day that lie hail enlit*si; h<-
was going to light f**r his shoulder
straps. "As for my diploma. I'll wait
awhile for that."
The doctor told him he was mad, ami
urgeil him at least to wait a year. Ilut
much recked John; it is a waste of
words to answer a young man except ac
cording to his folly. John was an ardent
Soldier hy this time. He had come to
America to s**-k his fortune; perhaps the
wav to it lay along the path of glory.
When lie came to bid Tilly"good-bye,
.she hurst out <r\ing. That settl*-*! the
question as to their manner of farewell.
M*' took her in his arms ami kissed her
repeatedly. This was decidedly wrong,
decidedly imprudent, although they
werennfv affectionate, hroth'-rly kisses
Missßosie cam*' in as lie released her.
" Well, Matilda Green!" she cried, with
an intonation that meant anything iuit
well. Hut Tilly was too henrt-hroken to
extenuate her conduct. She left that
,to John, who said, good-naturedly:
" You'll give me a ki-s tyo, won't y*>u.
Miss Rosie? Rctnemlx-r. you may never
see tne again."
Anti he actually kissed her t*si. lie
' wanted to put it out of her power to
tease poor Tilly. She had been guilty *>t
the same impropriety herself.
Poor Tilly w'as wretched, wretched,
after lie was gone. Hut she was huoyed
up hy hop*-a and visions. She hall a
brave picture, too, of John which lie
sent her when lie was made a lieuten
ant. Oh. how proud she was when that
came!
She never forgot that speech of John's
about improving her mind. She trbsl
hard to find time to do so H*t favorite
method was the composition of letters
to John, which were never sent, in the
course of which she would lalsiriously
liunt out in the dictionary nearly the
words she wanted to Use, to insure their
correct spelling. She also endeavored
to find time to read such light lit*-rntiir
as was contain*-*! in the weekly paper of
the household. She read tit*- love
stories, to be sure, with an especial -/est
apart from their purpose as educators.
They struck a kindred chord.
One day John I*ennard received in
camp a copy of this same pa|x-r- the
Wood bridge ,NVi/-.. It ontaim-damark
ed paragraph. "G*hml gracious!" ho
said, reading it, "old Green's dead.
How fearfully sudden!"
His particular chum, Lieutenant Phil
Rom, was standing lor. This gentleman
was a cormorant of fact*—a trait which
the thoughtl**s are apt to confound with
curiosity; hut I contend that there is a
difference between inouisitivenes* and
acquisitiveness. Mr. Ross stretched out
liis hand for the paper.
" Old Green? Hum! ah. yes—Dr.
Green! HyJove! * Philhrick Green, for
merly of (reenhriT. New York.' I
knew the man. I hail from Greenbrier
myself. So he has turned up again, lias
he? ' Wood bridge, Rockland county,
Pennsylvania.' H*-*-n in Woodbridge.
ell? What ever took you there?"
"I studied medicine in Dr. Green's :
office. There was an excellent opening
for a country practice."
" ls-t us see: he had two daughters—
Rosie and P<sie."
" Three."
"The third waa only an adopted
daughter. She accounts for my int*-rest
in him. Her mother was a distant
• ousin of mine. Is-ft a widow with
three children, utterly destitute Sew*-d *
for h*-r living. The Greens took a fancy
to her little Tilly, and offered to take her
•iff tier hands. She agreed, rather tiian
let the child starve. The Greens moved
away shortly afterward. The last time
F was in Greenbrier (I run up there
every summer to see my mother) I found
that nty cousin had married—a very j
w*-11-to-ilo man. too. Her other childr*-n
had died meanwhile, and she had set h*r
Mart ob reclaiming Tilly. Her husbaad
had made inquiries for Ir. Green, hut to
no purpose. He hnd made two or three
move* since leaving Greenbrier, and no
one knew where he ha*l moved to last. ,
My cousin was fretting herself sick. I
can't say that I pitied her as much as
though she had not given up her child
of her own free will,To begin with. It
always seemed an unmotherly thing to
me. And here I have suddenly un
earthed tlie girlt"
" Luckily enough for her," John
opined. " ltosh' and Punic will lead her
a life of it, I daresay. They'll have it
all their own way now, and a very un
pleasant way it is, as 1 happen to know."
"Had old Green, as you call him, any
money P"
"Should say lie had. I hope he has
left, Tilly her share of it. She will get
nothing by favor front those two close
listed old maids that does not eotne to
her by right."
" I'll writ" to her mother this very
day."
"And I'll write to Tilly," John added.
He wrote to the mother, too; he
| seemed so anxious, as Phil said, to have
I his linger in every corner of the pie that
| Phil waived his rights of acquaintance*
I ship and permitted his friend to tnake
! the disclosures to Mrs. Futon, Phil coll*
! tenting himself with inelosinga few lines
' to his cousin—indorsing John's moral
character—in that young titan's own
words.
Speed''** came the answer. A very
incoherent, agitated, short little note
from Tilly, so badly penned and ex
pressed as to be almost illegible and un
intelligible. Hut John made out from
it that she was very unhappy, and would
hail any change with joy. Mrs. Fin ton's
missive was blotted with tears. She
hail evidently a talent for letter-writing,
that is, for tin - writing of letters consid
ered as essays. This one invoked bless
ings upon John's head. It referred to
the writer's past sorrowful life. It was
' a dirge.
"She always had that whining xvay
about her," Mr. Ilos* commented, after
it. "Coddles her miseries, you
know."
Not long afterward arrived the news
that Tilly bad gone on to her mother in
Greenbrier- John breathed a sigh of
relief. He had learned that Dr. Green
had died intestate. His projierty hail
gone to hi" legal heirs. It would have
iH'en hard lines for Tilly, slaving all the
rest of her days for those hard task-mis
ttvsses, the " wicked sist'TS." The life
long lx milage seemed inevitable to
John's excited imagination.
So several months passed. Then John
applied for leave, on his doctor's ml vice,
who said lie needed rest. It WAS a problem
when'to spend it. He lind no mother or
sisters to hasten to who would receive
hint with open arms, and make each
day lie was at home a holiday. He had
distant relations in Fngiand, none in this'
country. He would have gone to Wood
bridge, as Ix'ingthe nearest approach to
home, luwl Dr. (iron and Tillvstiil b<"cn
there. He would like to sis - Tilly. She
had cried when he had hidden her good
bye. He did not think that any one '* 1 si
ll ad shed tear* for hi sake since. Pxir
little Tilly! Pretty little Tilly! He had
a great notion to go to Gnrnhricr and
look her up. He wantixl to find out
whether she would lx- glad to sis- him.
He went to Greenbrier. He found the
decent, tidy little brick house where th<-
F-It'ins lived. He was shown into a
dark little parlor. The woman who ad
mitted him went up stairs to tell Mi**
Tilly so noiselessly that John thought
she must he in her stock ing- feet. And
when Tilly came down to him *he ap
peared to have on list shoes. Fvery
tliing about the house was mutfted
" Mother has a dreadful headache."
'l'illv explained; "-lie suffers terribly
with neuralgia."
It was impossible not to *'*• that Tilly
was extremely agitated. The hand slo
gave to John was like ice, and trembled
to hi* touch He almost seated Iter,still
holding her hand, and she hxiking up at
him with the old wistful look in h< r
eyes. John was touched. HP always
had liked Tilly. And, pxir little soul,
how thin she was! Wa it j*>"iblc that
she had only exrhang'sl one kind of
lxindage for anotlter?
She went out to the front dixir with
him when lie left, and h" awthen in the
daylight liow pale she had grown. Th"
I little wild rose hail lost h'T hlonm. II"
asked her to take a drive with liitn for
til" sake of old time*. " You l'xik :is
though you ti'ssled fnsh air."
" Y'-s. 1 do not g't out often; mother
is so ailing."
(in th'* even ing of his last day in f Jrecn
hri'T he had made up his mind that he
wouid a*k her to marry him. He had
very little doubt of h'T answer, px>r
foolish child; for his own part he fancied
he was In love with her. At allex-cnt.*.
In* ought to lx- in love with some one by
this time. Tilly was almost the only
girl lie had ever known well.
Hut fate interl'Ted with his intention.
Mrs. Flaton was so ill that Tilly could
not he spared from her side for more than
live minute*. She ran down just to say
good-bye. John rcsolvsl that he Would
write instead, lie told Tilly he would
waite. " And take care of yourself," he
added. She did not cry this time, per
son* who take an extreme view of human
maladies would perhaps have said that
she look'-d simply broken-hearted.
When John did write, it was n differ
ent sort of letter from the one he had
plann'sl. On his return to camp lie was
confronted hv a crisis in hi* life. A gay
party from Washington rame down to
dance and ftirt in the tented field in lieu
of the conventional ball-room. Of it*
number was Maud Ga.e, who, if experi
ence gix's for anything, should have Ixs-n
an adept in both dancing and flirting.
A society girl par r.is-rUrnrr, but the first
of the type who had crossed John lionn
aril's patli. She had cultivated fascina
tion to the full ext<-nt of her powers,
and John fell an easy victim to her prac
ticed wiles. He was hi-witched. What
if her hair WTC blnndincd, and her skin
were whitened and reddened, and her
eyebrow * blackened? John was a* In
nocent as a babe nlxuit these matter*. .
To him Maud was radiant in all the
fresh heatitv of young womanhood.
Tilly? She faded in his thought by con- ,
trust Into such n mere dull little country
girl.
Still licwitcheil. he became engaged
to Mattd. She reasons| tint she might
do worse. She had weathered a good
many Washington campaign.* now, j
young a* she looked. Still bewitehisl,
lie would have married her hail not fat' -
Intervened. Had he done so. lie would ,
infallibly have rudely awakened from ,
hi* golden dream; but lie would doubt
less have survived his disillusion, just as ;
other ni'n and wonun have done lieforo '
him. He might have found comfort In
the reflection that lie was no more
wretched than other men who like hlni
had married—for love.
He wo* still madly infatuated, how
ever, when his regiment was ordered
into liattle—a battle which ended in a
victory fir hi* side, hut which left, him
in a condition hovering between life and
death. He was desperately wounded;
Mill—-boor fellow!—when they first told
him that the amputation of his right
arm was unavoidable, it seemed to him
that he would rather die outright. A !
cripple! malno-d! lie thought of Maud
and h'T strong, bright beauty with a
sickening sensation id unfttness.
HP lay at death's door for weeks.
Part of the time he was too ill to recog
nize any one. Only the tendrtrat nun
ing, the most assiduous care, saved him.
And when he finally opened his eyes to
consciousness, upon what assiduous and
tender nurse do you suppose they
rested P
It was incredible. Upon whom but
g.-ntle, care-worn, ga/elle-eye<| little
Tilly! "How on earth —" began John,
then dropped oft' t.i sleep again.
It had been almost a year now since he
had seen this dewy woodland rose, lie
had only written her one letter mean
while, hut that letter hail been her
heart's sustenance ever since. She hiuL
laid it away among certain other meni
! oriea of hers— memories which retained
their sweetness like withered sprigs of
lavender. As the months sped hy she
' made up her mind that she would never
I see John again—that he had forgotten
her. This was her presentiment. Hut
she did not blame John because he hud
not proved all that she once hoped he
would; that had been her mistake, but
a mistake whi -h bad Iss-n also her one
joy and romance. She called him her good
'angel. In the dear Hebrew phrase, lie
hud ronie to her—as in truth every g.xxi
friend comes to us—as an angel of God.
During this weary while her mother
died. 'I illy found herself without a tie
in life. She might come and go as she
pleased. There was a distinct desire in
ner loving heart to do the one work for
an unemployed woman just then. Hut
it was some little lime before she
gathered courage to carry out her wish
to become a hospital nurse. The alarm
ing first step once taken, she wegt on
easily enough. And she found an im
mense pleasure in thus living of use as
she proved—and of comfort to many suf
fering souls,
j Tiie I'rovidenec which directs small
matters as well as great, appointed her
duties in a certain ward in a certain hos
pital, where she eimie upon John lyon
ard's white fact one day, as he lay
stretched on his cot of pain, and she
realized, with a sudden tumultuous
, rush of feeling, that it was for h'T, hu
manlv speaking, to tend him back to life.
She felt as though this satisfaction more
tllup eomnensat.sl for all that she h.'ul
suflfer'sl—loneliness, neglect, disappoint
ment —in the past.
There was little romance about Maud
(talc. She made some excuse for break
ing her engagement as soon as she learned
of John's misfortune. She had little
faith in a one-ann.sl man's Ix-ing able to
tight the battles of 111.- successfully. And
stie.-ess meant to her more than a flection;
one might fall in love many times over.
John fortunately found that tie- cun
for Ills disappointment lay in the nature
of t lie .liap|xiinttnelit itself. ".So weak
a thing! so w.-ak a thing!"
So we come to the end. Tilly, con
tinuing her round of blessed dllti'-s. was
greatly surprised when John told IMT,
not many months after that, that she
was the one n'-cd of hi" life. She hail
buckled down to work. When love
come t" her suddenly, its voice was as a
voice in a dream. Hut she lx-lievisl it
—oh. how gladly' It i so easy f<>r youth
to he happy, to forget'
Mis Hale might hnv< marrh-d a dis
tinguili's| man, after all. 1 >r. !>*inard
gradtiated in his nrofe-sion inimisliately
In-fore hi* marriage to Tilly, and hi*
name hv this time is one that is well
known aiming physicians.— Harper's
III:ar.
I nibrellas and Parasols.
The umbrella, as a *un*shade, Ixiasts
an antiquity great'-r by many s-nturies
than that of the Christian religion. It
•"■eni* to have had its origin in the ne
eesiti'siif the tropical countries of the
F..it, and was for many yi-ars u*<sl only
lv tie rulers and those in high '-state,
'the original loriti* cenis to have Ixs-n
somewhat similar to that with which
all are fantilar, though in some '-outlines
a *un-hade was al*o constructed in the
form of a banner In whateviT form it
was constructed, however, it was always
,' umtx-rsonie. and requinal. not only !<>r
dignity's sake, but lor physical reasons
is well, an attendant to earTV it. 11l
(re* '• and Home the umbreifa or ion
/•mrtiluui, as it wa eailed. was ipisj as
a sun-shade by tlie wealthy, and was
also still retained as a distinctive mark
of royalty. l-ndics ha<l their maids
' arry these parasols over them during
tlie day; even effeminate men ux-d the
same prole, ijon from the strong rays ni
the sun. The form of the parasol ap
pears to have been very much like tliat
which we use, but tlie covering was
made of skin or leather, and could l>e
closed and opened at will. An Fnglish
writer, as lat' as IWH, d *eri!x-s the Ital
an fans, and concludes with the infor
mation that "tnanv of them do carry
other fine things of" a far gn-atir pri'-e,
that will cost at least a dllcnt (alxuit
*1 37). which they commonly call in the
Italian tongue umhr<Hot*, that is. things
1 that minister shadow unto them for
shelter against the scorching heat of the
sun. Th'we are made of leather, some
thing answerable to the form of a little
canopy, and hixitxsl in the inside with
divers little wiHiden hoop* that exti'nd
the umbrella in a pretty large compass 1
They are used especially by horsemen, j
who carry tle-m in their hands when
they ride, fastening the end of the handle
against one of their thighs; and they
impart so long a shadow unto tlieni,
that it keepeth the heat of the sun from
the upper liart ol their bodies." The
umbrella flourished in other southern
countries at the same time, and was not
unheard of in F.ngland. though it had
not been adopted into general ue. and
was not even familiar to the tnasies of
the people. Mention i made of it, how
ever, as early as II6, and before the ;
close of the seventeenth n-ntury the
parasol had liecome considerably used. !
its introduction into Fngiand and F"ranee j
apparently having come from" China, i
as the fogin was somewhat similar to
that u*wl in China and Japan.
Tlie use of umbrella* a* defence* against
the rain dhl not become general until
late in the eighteenth century, though it
had been used to some extent, exclu
sively by laities, for many years previous.
It was too effeminate a thing for men,
and when Mr. Jonn* llanwny. in the
Mreets of Istndon. lir*l had the iMildnesa
to earrv an umbrella, lie was subjected
to tin little ridicule, and it was some
year* later Ix-fnrc any men, except the
weak and sickly, had the temerity to
use essentially feminine covering as a
protection against rain. It is recorded
that the first umbrella s'-en in (ilnsgow
was brought there in 17*1 from Paris,
ami was regarded with much curiosity.
The first Fnglish umbrella* were made
of oiled silk, and when wet were very
diftleiilt to open or close. Tliestiek* and
rib*, tixi, were very large and heavy,
and altogether tlie umbrella was a de
cldely clumsy nlf.ilr as compared with
the latest Improved frame, with it* al
paca or silk covering of to-day. The
umbrella of two hundred year* ago, with
a thirty-one-Inch rib, weighed three and
a If*lf" pounds; one of the same size
now weighs not over alx or eight
ounce*.
The Young Man with the Wringer.
On# ilny about a week ago a nlim
wast'sl young man with a clotlic* wring
• r niulif liia arm attempted to open the
gal" of a yard on Cass avenue. 11. had
mail.- up liia mini! tlmi he could h.*ll I lie
people II wringer, ami lie might have ue
eomplihh<*<l Ills object hut for a dogniiout.
Hh hig na It tohae.-fi hogshead, wlli.'ll
stood waiting on I lie other side of t le
gate for a elianee to taekle Home leg.
weary agent.
"I 11 call again," whispered the agent
an lie turned to go, and lie meant just
what he Hiiid. The pri-scnce of one dog
did not diwourage him except for the
moment, lie panned tip the street and in
ian Imur returned to try again. There
I win no dog there an he opened the gate,
! hut in ten weondn after the latch clicked
; a hundle of tis'tli and bones iliot around
; the corner of the house and the agent
i shot across the road.
I " Now, you mark my word*!" he said,
; an he shook the wring'-r at the dog, " I'll
| get in there if I have t.i walk ov r your
dead laxly!"
lie meant it again, and in the after
noon lie returned. He surveyed the yard
from every point, had reasons to eon
elude that the dog was down cellar.
wnteWng for rat, and finally opened the
I gate. School children who were watch
ing say that the dog overshot the mark
hy trying to swallow the agent and
wringer at one gulp, and therefore got
neither: hut it was nucha close sluive
; that the young man went round the cof
ner minus his hat and fine coat-tail. He
I did not return again hy daylight. Per
haps it was hr who tossed the poisoned
i meat over the fi*nee that night, and pcr
liaps it was some young man who want
ed to fall ill love with the good-looking
girl in the house. Some folks may think
the dog didn't find the meat, hut there
are proofs to the contrary. The agent
was on hand ahout nine o'clock the next
morning, and to Ins great joy discovered
the dog'- dead In sly lying in the yard.
The |ioisou had done its work and he
was free to announce the merits of his
wringer to the waiting family.
A hoy who sal on a 1.-nee -mv the .log'*
eves open a little as the ag*tit paescd
through a gate. He saw the dog softly
get upon his feet after the agent had
pascil the " body." H<* saw something
iik'- a grin cross that canine's fare .* lie
got lii leg- well under him, and then
the lad fell off his r.xist, and only scram
bled up in time to see a shadow .TOSH a
• vacant lot. jumping clear over the tons
of old thi*tl<-< and never minding the
frog-ponds. The Ixiyhung around there
till till- d"g had swallowed everything
belonging to the wringer except on.- eog
wh.s-1, and that lie buried alongside the
fence to •' k'sj." for some future meal.—
IHI mil Fret Pres.*.
In Army OHlecr's Suicide.
The mysu-ry of the suiei.fe of Lieuten
ant farrow, of the Seventh I'nit.sl States
fa\alrv, at St. loui*. was cleared up hy
tic finding, among his personal effects,
of a latter writb n by Ella Btank, daugh
ter of Major-General Sturgis, of the
I nlte.l Stat.-s Cavalry, and slst.Tto Cafe
tain Jack Sturgis, who lost iiis life witli
'i< n rai Custer at the titneoi tin-famous
mux-acre. Mis Sturgis ha.l tn< t Cirrow
at Fort Lincoln. \oh.. when* she and the
young lieutenant Iws-aine very friendly.
Th- general thinking his daughter iuid
the young lieutenant were becoming Ino
devoted to each other, removed h<T to St.
l-otii*. hoping in tliis way to break up
a friendship which he d.srned unwise,
farrow's pride wa -uing, and. aft'T
nursing hi* affliction for moiitlis, lie re
solved t.i come t.. St Ixiuis and settle
the moim ntous question. He arrived
there, and at once plunged into all the
his inati.ms of tlie best society. Four
w.cks after his arrival he attended a
g.-rman at the h"U< of a w.-althy resi
dent. He Was to lead in tlie evening with
the young lady he so passionately loved.
He told a friend of this Ixfore the even
ing arrived, and soetii'xl delight.si at the
thought of *•* ing Miss Sturgis. He
further "tal'sl that his prosiest* were
never fairer, and that he U-ljcvcd he was
going to he successful. The next day lie
met the same fri'-nd, and said that lie
flattered hitns. If tliat Uw* iong and anx
iously .lis. us*.si question had lesn dc
i cidisi in his favor. Just a wok after
the event almvc mention. - .! farrow told
the same friend that he was going to
nihke a final chary, and "if I atn re
pulsed." said lie, "I'll give up file strug
gle." Tlie charge was maiio, It was
neither a defeat nor a victor. Kiln had
answered : " Wait a few days, and I will
write you a letter." It is supposed hv
those who knew the young oflSeer inti
mately that he nccived the fatal letter,
and that it was the final and unfavorable
answer. The next night tlie bodv of the
voting man was placed on a Yandaiia
train and taken to its last resting place in
PotUvillr. IVnn . where I i father lives.
The KYtent of Freemasonry.
The following statistics of tin - ntimleT
of Fris'tuasons' l.tdges which exist.al at
the end of last year, says the london
Family Ihralil, will Ix-r< ad with inter
est; In Germany there are 342 beiges;
Switzerland has 3.1; Hungary 41; Itou
mania. II; SIT via 1 : Fngiand and Wales,
1.1K7; Sdolland, .131: Ireland, 2!M; Gib
ralfer. A; Malta. 4; Holland and Luxem
burg. 46; Hclgium, 15: Ib-nniark. 7;
Sweden and Norway, I*; Franc.', 2>7:
Spain alxuit 300; Portugal. 22; Italy.
llO; Greece, II; Turkey, lit; Fgvpt, 'JN;
Tunis, 2; Algeria. II: Morocco, 2; tile
Wait Coast of Africa. 11: African Islands
25; tlie fajx*. 61; Arabia (Aden), I;
India. Il*i; Indian Islands, 16; fhinn
73; Japan. 5; Australian Islands, 4;,
Australia. 2211; New Zealand, Hi; United
Stales, 0.864; Canada. 535; Cuba, 30;
Haytl, 32; West Indian Islands, 65;
Mexico, 13; Hrtir.il. 250; other States in
South America. 176; a total of about
5,000 lodges. The number of meinlH'rs
is calculated at ahox'c 5,1*10.000.
K (Jncer Character.
" Jinimy-tlie-I>uek," of Yirginin City, i
Nev.. is dead. He made a living by a
queer invention. He usisl to put a liu.'k
in a has, xvith its head sticking out of a
hole, and allow the crowd to throw 1
clubs at it for twonly-llve cent* a throw,
the bird lielonging to whoever should
hit It. The ducks would of course '
•• duck" th.'ir heads just before tlie sticks j
whizzed along, and It was not oftener
than once in *ix months thai Jlmmv
would lose. The following Is his epi
taph; "Old Jimmy's wearv bones are
now resting peacefully under the sage
brush. Let us hope that when Uic
trump of the nwurn-etion shall echo on* ;
the rugged |>cak of Mount Davidson he j
will lie abb* to pop his head up like that
famous duck, and should the devil ap
pear and make a grab for the old man.
may he dodge back euvocwftiHy."
After all. telegraphic repairers are the
liesl wire pullers in the country.
n
FOR THE TOL'JIW FEOFLE.
A I Jul# Ulrl > Wowlir.
Wlntdn Hit bird* hHf, I wfwidi-r, I wonder,
Willi their (liitti-r and chatter 1 Jt iili'l al
play,
110 ihi*} -smld, 'ln tiicj fret nti.l *##nic boggle ##r
blunder,
A* we Irft, a* *<• scold, <l*y alter .lay '
I>ij their Ikihi# ever a/ he, I won/ier, I womier
At anything elm- thmi the <laiiger that corn#*
I When Mime tawny thr/nten* tbtm <iver or
under
| 'Hie great, InaJy I*i(ftie <il their Kreat, lealy
home* T
j Llo they vow to helii/.uiJ*, 1 wonder, I wotvltr,
W itli proiuiMM lair ami |>roriii*#w swwrt,
| Then, ijuick a* u wink, at a wonl tail asunder
| A* hiitnari friend## #!#>, in a moment of heat *
j Hut <lay aiti-r <lay | may wonder and wonder,
And auk them no end of aueh '|ii<wtiorui h
tbeae—
W it li clutter, and chatter, now over and undei
lite big, leaiy hnigh* d the big li-aiy trees,
, 1 hey dart and they kini, with their lUa full
of plunder,
j But never a Wind ol an anawer they (jive.
But ueier a word .hall I get, though I
wonder
, From morning till night, a* long u- I live.
—Aura I'erry, in Si. AT'holm
A ttleliti fori Moiihf) ,
Little Jtuk if tin fun of the whole# age.
ami tit tin wuiie tin,. |„. is the plague ami
torment of the inhabitants thereof. Hci*
about as large as a half-grown eat, ami
though <juite a hahy, lie luu# the t* < of
an old man. Ife i* fl rhesus. th# Hhun
r. "r sacred nionkev of India. If#- i*
r.-markahle for agility. Hi*# y. - are full
of intelligence and a- ouicfc as a haw k
Hi h i regular I'aul Fry, an#l intrude#,
hitnw lf just wliercviT he i not wanted
I hut, when Tiny and J# nnv have n<-*tlod
themselves in a corn# r. litije .lack jump
right into the middle ol the grout# and
do#-* hi* I rest to upset the part v Llk# a li
j Jitti# people, he ha* a neat idea of hi*
own uiii* #juen< ■<■, and he think* that I—
hi* ma*t< r- am 1- rrihly afraid of him. for
lie ntak<- at rue the most hideous face*
and chatter* irt a manner that one woul#l
think lie wa* a hig gorilla; at l#iu#t. per
hap* he i* in hi* own •-stitualion. He
can't bear Ling laughed at. and if I
laugh at him he g# t perfectly savage h
i* a euriou* thing, hut 1 always know
when it i* getting on for one o clock hy
the monk# ys Lgijining t<# cry out for
their dinner. They alk have different
voi#•#. ami I know th#-se voice* as well
a# 1 know the voice* of people altout me,
l iny Is a Moon.# nink< y. ami she almost
fays tli# wonl ' Moo-na " in h#T cry : it
is a pr. tty, melancholy cry. When angry
'he maker a dliferent noise; when /acting
or warm *lie grunt* with satisfaction, and
they say I grunt like her. .fenny lia* a
trembling white. Little Jack iiatt#r*
" kik-kik-kik. andw len he is in trouble
lie s#Teams most fenrftilly. Tie* triarmo
*<•l * note is a very high, -tueakv. plain
tic not/-, like that of a hat. He has also
another note which I cannot describe; it
is of ang. r or fctir.
Wlien the dinner of lioiled potat/w* is
brought up the monkeys sit n>und the
plate, each one ; uirig .-i* f;c*t a* he can.
It is then that their m !fi*hm * is fully
demonstrate!. There is an old riddle":
"Why do#*, a dog carry a Line j n his
mouth * All*. Ih-eaUsc h' lias no k# t
t/i put it in." Mo*t monkey* have check
(Kiuehes, an#i I am -ure tlie reason why
they have pouches is a* follows: Their
natural habitant i in tr* s. They <-#ime
down on the ground f##r insect*. My
monkeys arc particularly fond of meal
worms. They rolled thz-ir food on the
grounil an#i put it in th'-ir pocket*—that
i-. potich<*—and g.i up into the trees again
to finish tli' ir dinnner. Titey, therefore,
when the potatoes arrive, set to work rat
ing us liani a.* they can. They fill their
poll. li'-snt til#, sametime. Utile Jack ha*
very large pouches; no trace of ti# m can
lie soph at ordinary tint'*, but at dinner
time h<* tills lit* poll# It#*- t#i tlr|| an extent
that tie-two of tli#m put togetleT are
nearly as big as lii who]#- head.
Well, one day the two elderly monk# ys
were sitting on tii<- perch in the cage, tin
i*hing off th# 1 '-/ intents of their pouch#-*,
and tln-ir tail* were hanging straiglit
diwn fr#>m the perch. What ttm-t ra*-
. < ally litt i<- Ja# k >i< l>ut tah- Tinv's tail in
. on#' Itand an#l Jenny's tail in tin- other,
ami give both at th# - vim#' moment a tre.
tnendou* pull. This brotiglit the two
Lauti'-s on to the floor of the cage in an
instant. Tiny were L#t,h furious at L--
ing thus int<rt-u|>t<*l at dinner-time;
they a*k#*l no (|U#wti(ins, but ea# li think
ing the other had in*u)t/<d her. I>gnn to
: light in a m##-t unloving manner. They
j grappled and roll"#! over and over like an
animat/sl bail. Tbey <ion'l littrt them
s/lvi's wlicn lighting; their teeth arc not
l#ig enougli. I #-an always stop them
by throwing cold water on th#m Wliile
tli'V were lighting little Jack kept iump-
U|m>ii thi'in. to k*-p them going,
a it Wen-. Tlie ras#-al Was ntU#lt too
active ever to get cauglit. Tile noise o
th#' combat brought up Jemmy the *ttrri
cate from tlie kit< hen lielow . Jemmy
was niek'sl up bv a frien#! of nttne m-ar
111#' ( ap#- ofliiKHl IIojm. lie i* about the
sir* >f a large rat. an#l not unlike a ntun
goose in appearance. Ife always turn*
up when a monkey tight i* going #n, and,
a* uual. up my g#-nt)eman routes, tail
• reet nn#l fur all bristles! up. to ntske
himself look big. It so happened that
during this fight Tlny's tail prm#*# !*!
through the liars, .leinnty immediately
bit it with bis sharp teeth. Tiny thought
it wa* littl#" Ja# k tlint had #lone thi*. so
"lie tunic#! and huntes! him all over Un
cage, but she ci hi id not catch him. l.ittle
Jack kept |#opping in and out the sleep,
ing Ikjx. ami then Jimmy joined in the
liunt. Jemmy kept guard outsi#le th
i-age and bit anylaKly's tail a* tln'ir tail*
ltn|ipened toisiraeout from the bars. Al
together, t!i(*re was a nice row and little
Jack, as usual, was at tlie bottom of it.—
IVnai Hocilanrt. in 1/nrui ami Hitler.
The largest Libraries.
The largest library In the world i*
stated to no the Xntiona. Library at
Farts, which in l*l contained a.000.000
tu inted book* and 150.000 manuscript*.
Tiie Hritisli Museum and tlie tm|#eriai
Uhrary at St. Petersburgbrdli contain#*!
a)mtit 1,100.000 volttm#* in 1574. and tli#-
relalion is prolialily tb- same now. Tlie
Hyal Lllirarv of Mtmiidt eoniains 000.000
Lsks. Tlie Vatican Übrary at Home in
en#neoUsly stt)ipose#| to be among tin- .
largest, while in point of fact It Is sur
passed, so far as t!e number of volumes
go*, br more tlian sixty European oil-
Vectiomi. It contains 105,000 printed
IwMiks and 25,500 manuscript*. In tli*
I nib-'l States the largest is the library
of Congress at Washington, which in
1*74 contained 201.000 volumes. The
llostoo Fublie lollowtsl very clearly after
it with 200.500. and the Harvard I'ni
v#-rslty collection came next with 'JOO.tMtI