Too und I.
\ oil fti cliuilriag up lilo'H pathway—
Going down am I;
Youth's bright days o'er you are shining,
Mine have all passed by;
Yet I fain would bo remembered
All the Journey through;
Will you think oi me as kindly
As 1 think of yon T
s
You are strong lor all endeavor—
Weak and worn am I;
You are longing for the conflict —
For the rest I sigh;
Yon have faith, and hope, and courage—
Memory's wealth is mine;
Yet a tie of love and friendship
links my heart to thine.
You are looking on to Rlory—
Looking upward I;
You have stored on earth your treasures
Mine are placed on high;
Yet no height or depth can sever
Love's immortal baud;
We shall sometimes find the level
Of the heavenly land.
—Christian Leader.
TOM.
Mrs. Hacker and her daughter sat
t]ic little parlor behind the shop taking
tea. It was a frosty winter night, and
the brown teapot was kept on the back
of the stove that it might not chill. So
was the pan of sausages, which tasted
all the more crisp and savory in conse
quence. The door between the store
and room stood open that any chance
customer might be seen at once by the
tea-drinkers, but the bell had not jingled
since they took their seats.
" Trade is dreadful, Emma Jane," said
Mrs. Hacker, dipping her bread into
the sausage pan and transferring it to
her plate by means of the long cooking
fork. "Trade is dreadful! I should
just give up if it got a little worse; but,
dear me, I never had any luck in any
thing. There's Mr. Ninnevcr putting
plate glass—whole panes—into his
windows, and beginning to talk of
hiring the second floor for ready-made
suits; and my things hang on my hands
though I'm sure I make better selec
tions than he knows how to. Another
cup, Emma Jane —what a comfort tea
is. to be sure."
"Then give me a cup, won't you, Mrs.
Hacker?" said a voice behind them. " I
want comfort, I'm aure. Here's grandma
gone out and forgot to leave the key,
and nothing for me to do but to sit on
the stairs and cool my heels."
"Thomasfjia! how you scared mc
coming in so sodden! screamed Emma
Jane.
" Sit down, do," said Mrs. Hacker.
"Take your seat here, Tom, and have
your supper with us. Your grandma
stopped to tell me she wouldn't be hack
until late, and the. key is in the money
drawer."
"About all there is there, too," said
Emma Jane, with a pout; "and I want
a new winter bonnet."
"Look here, Afrs. Hacker," said the
young man, slowly turning himself
toward the old lady. "Look here,
ma'am; here's some one ready and will
ing to buy that winter bonnet, and all
the other bonnets Emma Jane will ever
want. We've been engaged a year now,
and at last I've got to be foreman in the
factory. Why should we put it off any
longer? Tell Emma Jane that it's all
nonsense. She won't listen to me."
"Well, I don't think long engage
ments arc best." said Mrs. Hacker*
"What I should say to Emma Jane
would be, 'Have him row.'"
"Ob, well! I suppose I shall be both
ered until I do say yes," replied Emma
Jane; and then the anxious lover, plead
ing his cause earnestly, the wedding day
was actually set for Christmas eve,
which was at that time about a month
off.
This conversation, as well as the even
ing meal, being over Mrs. Hacker dis
creetly retired to the shop and left the
lovers alone. However, she did not
stay away long. In a few moments she
came running in with her glasses on
her nose, and an open letter in iter
hand.
"Read this, one of you," she said.
" I've read it, but I can't believe I un
derstand it. It seems as though I must
be crnzy. Here, you read it Thomas: I
have more confidence :n you."
Then she pat the letter into Thomas
Hunt's hand and sat down at the
table.
" I found it on the floor," said she.
"The postman must have thrown it in
at the slit. I don't know whether it's a
hoax or not, but its got a regular stamp
on, an' all. My gracious, bow queer I
feel."
Meanwhile Thomas Font solemnly
placed the sheet of paper before him,
read it through, and turned back to the
first line.
"It isn't a hoax," said he. "It's a
regular lawyer's letter, and what it tells
yr.u is that your old uncle, Samuel
Hacker, of London, England, is dead,
and you are his heiress to the tune of
•100,000. It's down in pounds, but
that's the sum in our money."
" Pinch me! Emma Jane," cried Mrs.
Hacker. " I mean it, dear; and if I
don't wake up, I'll think it's true."
"Ob, pahaw, ma! It's true enough,"
cried Emma Jane. "How splendldl
When are we to have the money? Oh,
isn't it just lovely?"
But Thomas gave a little sigh.
. , . ... ad
" r.s. Hacker," lie said, "maybe you
think a mechanic not rich enough or line
enough lor your daughter, now you are
as well off as that. II no, say so out and
out, and I'll bear it as well as I can."
" Why. Thomas, if I was a queen, I'd
think you a good son-in-law," said Mrs.
Hacker.
"And you, Emma?" said Thomas.
" I shall wait until I get my diamonds
on before I take airs," said his lady love.
Nevertheless the fortune made a
change in the programme. It was neces
sary for Mrs. Hacker to go to England,
and Emma Jane must go with her, she
said; and, on the whole, it seemed best
to postpone the wedding for awhile.
"It wouldn't be respectful to Uncle
Simon to marry immediately," said the
mother.
So Thomas had the unhappiness of
seeing his lady-love leave the shores of
her native land, and went back to his
shop with a very heavy heart.
However, he worked hard, and many
letters comforted him; and at last his
Emma Jane returned gorgeous in the
last London fashions; and there was all
the bustle of buying a new home, fur
nishing it, and Liking possession of it—
and very little time for the lovers to he
together.
"You see," said Mrs. Hacker to
Ihomas Hunt, " you see Emma Jane is
all stirred up. She'll settle down after
awhile; but joung people will be young
people, you know."
At home Thomas got less comfort.
"Emma Jane feels her money; she
shows it," said Grandmother Hunt.
"And the place is too tine for me, ann
the servants stare too much. Sarah
Hacker is a sensible woman; but Emma
Jane isn't much to depend on. You'll
find that out, Thomas."
And poor Thomas did find it out.
"You see, Tom," said Emma, one
day, twirling the cheap ring he had
given her softly about on her finger—
"You see, Tom, somehow I'd rather
not lie married for along while. I don't
want you to be angry with me; but I
never was a rich girl before—and it's so
nice. I get so much attention. I don't
want to settle down as an old married
woman yet."
" I'll wait, Emma," replied Tom.
"Ah, but—but you sec it might be no
use," said Emma. " Perhaps I never
may want to marry; and if you don't
mind tnking hack the ring, why wo can
be friends all the same."
" Can we?" said Tom, in a strange
tone. " Well, I shall never be your
enemy."
And he put the ring into his vest
pocket; but he did not trouble
the servant to open the door of the big
house again.
" What ails Tom, Emma Jane," asked
Mrs. Hacker. "Why don't he come
here any more?"
" It's just as well he shouldn't," an
swered the girl; "and if you could only
drop the Jane, ma; I hate it so."
"You didn't use to hate you poor
grandma's name," said Mrs. Hacker;
"but money has spoiled you, Emma
Jane, if ever it spoiled a woman."
" Don'i, be cross, ma," coaxed Emma
" Tom is very well, hut he is common ;
and you know how elegant young Mr.
Vreeland is, and—and he pays mc a great
deal of attention, ma."
"Ah, that's it," sighed old Mrs.
Hacker. " He's cut Thomas Hunt out.
You've jilted the poor boy."
And now Vreeland came often to see
Emma Jane, was her escort everywhere,
drove her out, walked with her, sang
sentimental song 3 with his eyes fixed on
her face, and all that might he done to
show " what his intentions were." And
a year from the day on which Mrs.
| Hacker took possession of her new house,
she was not surprised by hearing that
Mr. Vreeland desired to see her nlone.
"Yen, I'll go to sec him, my dear,"
said Mrs. Hacker, putting on her best
cap at the glass; " but I can't help think
ing of poor Tom."
Mr. Vreeland sat in the parlor in ex
actly the proper attitude, wearing the
proper drpss, and propcrlv excited—no
more. He informed the old lady that he
had lost his heart to her daughter, and
that ns he believed he had found favor in
that young lady's eyes, desired to have
permission to set the wedding-day.
And Mrs. HaeP'r listened calmly, and
answered thu?
" Mr. Vreeland, I think you arc what
hey call a good match for Emma Jane,
and I've nothing against you. It shnli
be as she chooses. Only it's but fair to
tell you this. You must take her for
herself, for in a week's time we shall
leave this house, and I shall go back to
my little shop. I've been speculating,
and, well, you know how things go
sometimes."
" Yes, I know," replied young Vree
land. He turned as pale as death as he
spoke, and sat looking down at the
carpet.
After awhile he said:
"Accept my condolences," and arose
and bowed himself out of the front
door.
An hour nfterrwad Emma Jane, to
whom her mother bad told the same
story of speculation and loss, received a
note, which the Vreelands' black ser
vant had brought to the door. It ran
thus:
"MT I)A KM NO EMMA: You know I
adorennri must adore yon forever; but
my habits a:e extravagant. My father,
like your mother, has entered into dis
astrous speculations, ai:d I will not bind
you to a marriage which could result in
nothing but misery. Yours over, in
deep despair. REGINALD VKERLANO."
Ah, it wns all like a dream to Emma.
They went baok u> the old house, and
the shop was opened again. The dirty
boxes were brushed, the oounter oiled,
the pins and buttons, and striped blue
elastic, and boxes of cheap thimbles,
and the curd-board mottoes stamped for
working in silk, graced the glass case
once more.
The same limited number of cus
tomers dropped in, and Emma served
behind the counter, and washed dishes
in the back room. She was very, very
wretched, and life looked dark indeed to
her.
Old Mrs. Hunt and Thomas still lived
on the upper floor. The old grand
mother told Mrs. Ilackor that Tom was
beginning to like Fannie Earle, the
hair-dresser's pretty daughter.
Sometimes Tom would pass the win
dow, but he never looked toward it.
Emma used to sit behind the counter
thinking of him. What a lover she had
had, and she had cast him away for
iortune-huntcr. Her verdict was that
she deserved punishment, and she was
very sad and very meek.
She expected nothing now but to die
an old maid, living behind that little
shop counter, and never having any ad
miration or attention again.
In this mood she sat beside her mother
one winter evening. The table was
spread with the thick stone china; the
brown teapot and the pan of sausage
hissed on the stove. The door stood
open between the shop and the parlor.
All that had happened since might have
been a dream, and it might have been
the same night, a year before, when the
letter had come to them which had
made such changes, and Emma had even
poured out the second cup of tea or her
mother, when the door into the hall
creaked, and looking up, she saw Tom,
big and brown as ever, witli such a look
in his eyes. But it could not lie for
her; she did not deserve it. And Emma
dropped her head upon her hands and
burst into tears.
Tiien she felt Tom kneel down beside
her and put his arm around her waist.
" Look at me, Emma," he whispered.
" Look at me. my dear. I cannot bear
t any more. I never can heip loving
you, and forsl 1 that's come and gone, I
believe you do love me a little."
Then Emma found courage to put her
hands upon his shoulders and whisper:
" Oh. Tom, I believe I do."
• ••••••
They were married in a very little
while, and it was only after the wedding
that old Mrs. Hacker, with a very
solemn face, informed them that she had
a confession to make.
" I haven't lost my money at all, my
dears," she said. " I'm half afraid of it,
for it seemed to bring unbappiness with
it. Yet still it is comfortable to be rich.
And now you are married to an honest
man, that chose you when you were
poor, my dear, wc might as well make
the most of it, and ail go over together-
Granny Hunt and all—to the big house
the servants are keeping for us, thinking
we're off on a joarney. I shall never
blame myself, and 1 don't think any of
you will blamp me, either."
Tom looked at Emma, but she only
threw her arms about his neck and hid
her face in his bosom and said :
" The money cannot make me any
happier than I am, Tom."
And even Grandmother Hunt de
clared :
"The house don't seem too fine to me
now, for there's love in it. and truth
in it, and my Tom is as happy as the
day."
Live Within Your Means.
It is almost every man s privilege, and
it becomes his duty, to live within his
means—not up to, but within them.
\\ ealth does not make the man and
should never be taken into account in
our judgment of men; but competence
should always be secured when it can
by the practice of economy and self
denial to only a tolerable extent. It
should be secured, not so much for
others, as to secure to us the conscious
ness of independence, and the constant
satisfaction which is received from its
acquirement and possession.
There are families who endure miseries
untold! because they live beyond their
means, because they wish to dress and
visit and entertain as neighbors do who
have tenfold their income. Of this nar
row and vulgar ambition, a brood of
sordid and unwholesome things arc
born. It is impossible that children
shall develop symmetry of character in
houses where life is a frantic struggle to
appear as gladly as the occupants of the
next one appear, the grandeur being all
tnsel and vain show.
A Russian journal gives some inter
esting official information in regard to
the drainage of the great Russian
marshes in recent years. At the ciose
of the year 1879. 30,000.000 acres of the
Polessie marshes had been reclaimed by
033 miles of canals. During that year
thirty-four bridges furnished with hy
draulic machinery 'or the purpose of
watering the Selds in the time of
drought were erected on these canals.
These, added to the number previously
built, made sixty-eight. In this same
district haifa million of these reclaimed
acres are now arable land, which has
added 14,000,0C0 rubles to the national
wealth. Great drainage works arc car
ried on in other Motions, which will give
a great impulse to the wealth and pros
perity of thateoumrv.
There is a lake having an area of ninety
acre# on Kern river. Gal. The lake is
about] twenty-nine feet in depth at the
lower end, and so clear that the fishes
are seen swimming around. The lake
is located ten miles, nearly east, from
the Mineral King mine. A few miles
higher up the river there are plenty of
bear and deer, and eighteen miles higher
up four waterfalls from 7,000 to 10 000
leet high each.
DitINKIMU HOT BI.OOD.
How I'ntlmf* Take Their
Mnlallnal Ormutfht* at a New Orleana
Hlauuhter-House.
It is comparatively only within the
lust fow years that the medieal world
has recognized the vitnl properties of
blood when tnken by the mouth ns a
remedy against phthisis, or, as it is
more commonly known, consumption.
When in France it wasiirst proposed to
give blood as a stimulant and nutrient
in cases where the system had lecome
depleted from the drain upon the sys
tem by tubercles on the lungs, the idea
met with great opposition, and for u
lime there were long discussions be
tween physicians in the leading medical
gazettes. Hut some remarkable results
in cases of great debilitation, which
were well authenticated, gained for this
treatment many friends, and a change
was wrought even among those who
had been most bitter in scofling at such
a restorative. Now the abattoirs of
I'aris are daily crowded with people
suffering from lung troubles—in fact,
from all pulmonary complaints. The
treatment was not long being intro
duced this side of the water, and in
New York it was marked with more
success than was anticipated. It soon
came in use here, and sevral physicians
have prescribed the drinki;. > -f blood to
their patients, with goo res..lts in a
number of cases.
Besides blood, their is another remeay
for consumption, called koumiss, which
has also attained a high rank, and
which is now being freely used through
out the country.
Koumiss is made by the Cossacgs in
the steppes of Tartary, from the milk of
the mare, which, owing to its liability
to ferment and decompose, is not sus
ceptible of transportation; but there is
made an artificial article here which is
said to contain all the chemical prop
erties of that from Tartary. Many phy
sicians, however, prefer fresh beef's
blood to the manufactured article.
Recently a reporter of the Democrat
visited the Crescent City slaughter
house, below the barracks, for the pur
pose of witnessing some patients take
their daily drafts of gore, and his visit
was not without recompense. Meeting
the genial superintendent, Mr. John
Dolhonde, he gave many details of
blood drinking which few people of cur
city know of. He said that there ore
now as daily drinkers some three or
four ladies and the same number of
gentlemen. They reach the slaughter
house by the cars from Canal street by
about noon,and stand near the slaughter
pens, awaiting the killing of an animal.
A beef is driven into the pen. and the
door is closed. A butcher aloft on a
scaffolding, armed with a long spear
headed pole, watches his opportunity,
and with a sudden thrust drives the
steel point deep into the base of the
steer's brain. The animal, paralyzed
by the blow, drops to the floor, wben
a second butcher advances and, after
cutting d'.wn a portion of the skin,
severs the an ries of the neck, and a
crimson tide liows out. The ladies have
their large pint glasses ready, and the
butcher catches the blood flowing in a
pulsating stream from the neck and
passes it out. when the patients drink it
down while still warm and before it has
time to coagulate. After the slight
feolirg of disgust at the first! draught
has passed away, the patients nppci
ently relish it and do not evince .tie
least sign of hesitancy in'taking it. The
taste is a sweetish, salty one, not very
different from that of sweet milk, and is
likened .to that experienced when a cut
finger is involuntarily put in ones
mouth to stop the pain. This taste
lingers in the mouth for a considerable
I time, but the blood-drinkers do not
! complain of it as being unpleasant.
Mr. DoiLonde says that he has noticed
several remarkable results from it. One
—a young lady—who. when she first
went down to the slaughter-house,
looked exceedingly ill -uiu far gone
with .consumption. ll* could mention
her name, but it would not be proper.
After some weeks' trial drinking blood,
she began to improve and to-day is well
and hearty. He mentioned several
other cases where like good results had
come from it, but said some came down
there in the last stages of consumption,
when, of course, it was too late to do
any good.
The ladies generally came to his office
and he, with pleasure, escorted them to
the pens about killing time, which is
after twelve o'clock.
The reporter then waited for some of
the drinkers to appear, and presently a
lady, exceedingly thin, with a hectic
flush on either check, got out of the cars,
and securing her glass, started with her
escort down the walk leading to the
ab\ttoir. A large milk-white beef had
just been driven in one of the pens, and
overhead, with pole poised, his execu
tioner stood .waiting a favorable oppor
tunity to strike. The blow falls, the
brute lies trembling on the floor, and
in a moment the knife at his throat has
opened the dood-gates of his life-tide.
The lady's glass was quickly filled, and
as quickly handed to her. Without
betraying the least emotion, she (pressed
the crimsoned breaker to her lips, and,
without withdrawing It, swallowed Ps
contents and turned away as if she had
*ust partaken of some soda water. There
was none of that gagging and nausea
that cod-liver oil excites, and the effect
appeared to be almost its stimulating
and exhilarating as a glass of cbsra
agne. A brighter color came to her
cheeks and her eyes seemed to gain a
brilliancy they had not before.
As the animals are all inspected be
fore they can be slaughtered, perfectly
healthy blood is insured, and It is said
Ito increase the appetite wonderfully.
An ex-sheriff, who is a gentleman ol
large franje. after taking three glosses oi
blood every day, says that his appetite
for dinner is wonderfully increased
thereby. It seems to set the organs of
appropriation going, and food is more
rapidly digested.
Blood-drinking has 'become such a
common sight at the slaughter-house
nobody Beems to pay the least notice to
the patients, and they take their gratui
tous beverage and go away without ex
citing the least attention. During the
winter the number increases, but blood
enough for a thousand runs off down the
gutters of the pens.
The treatment, to be of benefit, it is
said, must be kept up some months,
regularly taking a glass every day.—
New Orleans Democrat.
Lacked the Conveniences.
•' My dear sir," began a cheerful
looking gentleman,not particularlyiwell
dressed or smelling very pleasant, as he
broke into the EagWa sanctum yester
day and grasped the city editor's hand.
" My dear sir, do you not recognize me?"
"No, I don't," rcspoc d <1 the city
editor, gruffly. What's you. 'a :ket?"
" Don't recognize me! Why, my dear
Bir, don't you recognize—did you ever
see Doctor Carver, the famous rifle
shot?"
"No, I didn't," replied the city
editor.
" Oh, well, that accounts for it," said
the visitor, breathing easier.
" Are you Doctor Carver?" asked the
city editor, suspiciously.
"The same," responded the seedy
man. " I've dropped in to ask a bit of
a favor. Coming across on the boat from
New York I made a match with a man
who is waiting downstairs for me. We
are to shoot right away, and I have
oalledin to borrow your gun until I
eat him."
" Where's your own?"
"In New York. Haven't time to get
it. The match comes ofl in an hour,
and I must have a gun. Happened to
think of you and stepped ia. Will re
turn it in two hours."
" Hut I haven't any gun," said the
city editor. "Neverfdid have one. and
don't want any."
" Anybody round the got one?'
asked the doctor. "Do you know any
body who has got a gun?"
"No, I..don't. Why don't you buy
one?"
"That's just it. This match is for
•f 1,500 a side, and it took every cent of
change I had to make the stake. Haven't
got a quarter left, so I'm compelled to
borrow a gun to win my money back.
You wait here, and I'll see the man, and
see what he'll do," and the doctor
shuffled across the street to where the
man in a slouch hat and toqp trousers
was trying to decipher a theatrical
poster. After a few moments'conversa
tion the doctor hobbled back.
"We've fixed it," he shouted, glee
fully. "He consents to shoot with a
pistol. Twelve hundred yards with a
; revolver, which lets us out. The man's
a stranger to me, but lie seems to be a
[ perfect gentleman. So now we're all
i right, eh?"
" It looks so," said the city editor
fx>d day. Hope you beat him."
"There is only one trouble." continued
the doctor, "and that is, I haven't any
pistol with me. ,If you'll lena me yours
till I finish this match, it'll be the best
thing you ever did for this paper," and
the doctor winked mysteriously.
" Hut SI haven't got any pistol," re
monstrated the city editor. "There
isn't a pistol in the office."
" Well, that's funny. I'll ask him
again what we'd better do."
Once more Ihe shabby doctor and his
shabbier friend entered into negotia
tions, and the doctor returned, con
vulsed with mirth.
" He says be'li'throw [penknives at a
mark with me, provided I furnish new
imported stock. Of course. I can beat
him at that, but I haven't the knives.
He's thequcerest chap I ever ssw. You
liaven't got a couple of nice penknives,
have you?"
" No!" responded the city editor; " I
haven't any."
" I don't see how we are going to have
the match out, "said thedoctor, "unless
he could consent to shy clubs. Hnve
you got any Indian clut a or nice walk
ing canes about you?"
" Nothing of the sort!"
" I reckon I'll have to go to New York
for my gun, but the worst of it is I've
put up my last cent of change on the
match —91,500 in cash—and I haven't
two cents to pay the ferriage. Of course,
I must pay for him because he'a holding
the stakes and I don't want to lose aight
of him. Got a quarier?"
" No," said the city editor. " Haven't
anything of the sort."
"Of course, 1 don't need a quarter,
'cause the fare is only two cents apiece.
Lend me a nickel till I get my gun?"
" Haven't got it k "
" Very well," said the doctor, with a
shade of disappointment on his fac
"then the match is off. It won't be
shot and I lose my money."
Ten minutes afterward the doctor and
his friend flew through the swing-door
of a saloon on their way to the curb
stone. and the city editor looking on
from his window felt his conscience case
up on him as he noticed that the doctor
was a length and two necks ahead or
bis competitor, and that he had won
one match even if he had forfeited in
the other.— Brooklyn Eagle.
A return issued by the German post
master-general shows the number oi
post csxdsused in Europe in the year
187 J to have been *19,000,000.
Hope.
What is hope ? A moiling rainbow
Children follow through the wet;
'fin not here, wtill yonder, yonder;
Never tirehJn found it yet.
What ia life ? A thawing iceberg
On a ea with nanny shore.
Cay, we nail; it melt* beneath u;
We are annk and ecn no mo re.
What ia man T A looliab baby.
Vainly strives, and fights, and freta;
I remanding all, deserving nothing;
One small grave is ail be gets,
Thomnt Carlytf
HUMOKOUM.
Sour feet—A balloon ascension.
A woman's belt is always waist fu...
A grave error—Burying a man aav*.
No matter how old a crowbar may be,
it remains a pry as ever.
The barber's apprentice is usuaj.ya
strapping fellow.
Put your head in the cold and you
shail be rewarded by having a co.d in
your head.
All reports to the contrary, tii" i<*
I crop for 1%81 has not yet been d&mag'.t
| by frost.
DressmakTs who know their buain< --
I never make butls; they do all the goring
themselves.
" Ah," said a deaf man, who had a
scolding wife, "man wants but
hear below!"
A man is a " perfect brick" when i,t
shows himself all the better for brine
i hard-press?d.
Shell pink is a fashionable color. f :.<
husband of the lady who w-ars the pink
| usually does the shelling.
The principal resemblance betw -n a
j man who stops a team on the crossw .
of a crowded street and half a barr< of
' flour is that both make about a hundred
! wait.
" The difference," said the cook. "
( twef n a child of royal birth and a young
, iamb is that the first is tended in sp.en
dor and the other is splendid 'n teuri<r"
1 Petroleum World.
i The papers make a great bother about
I the number of people who escape a*, a
railroad accident. Wouldn't they Lav
escaped just the same had there been no
! accident?— Boston Transcrtpt.
Bjornscn. the Norwegian novelist and
poet, hjas ajrrived ijn tjhis cjountry.
ejreating qjuilcajnejxcitement ijn iji'.'r
ary cjircles, ajnd ijs ajnxious tjo mj<-<;
I Wilheimji, bjingo.— Oil City Derrick.
A Cincinnati man had his portrait
i painted in Paris. His friends com
! plained to him that it was much too old
" 1 hat's what I ordered," said he. "It
will save fhe expense of another one
I ten years from now. 1
A great punster was asked one even
ing in com pa- y, to make an extempore
pun. "Upon what subject?" he in:
quired. One of the party ati-wered -.
"The |queen." "Oh, sir."be replied,
"the queen is no subject."
When spoiling is "reJormsd" she'll writ*
" I'm nailing on theosbun.
The no is hi, no sale in site,
It 01K me with etnoshnn."
But one "spell" will not change its ns-r.-
For she'll lie ne-eick just the saint'
The women are always looking under
i the bed for a man. No man ever thought
i of looking for a woman under such cir
. cumstances. He always scans the mirror
when he is in search of the femai<
1 Bloomington Eye.
We are not very observing, but w.
| have noticed that the first thing any
woman does on alighting from a car
| riage is to carefully put her right hand
I in conjunction with her back hair, .just
, to see if it's all right.
An American lawyer is now aitormy
-1 general of the Sandwich Islands. If in
, two j cars he doesn't own the entire
country and hold the king's note for s
! large sum he is no credit to the Amcri-
I bar.— Philadelphia Chronicle.
People say they shell peas when t >ey
unshcll them; husk corn when they un
husk it; dust furniture when they un
dust it; skin a calf when they nnskin it;
cal* fishes when they unscale them;
weed their gardens when they unwred
them.
The governor or a well-known prison
extolled the liberal diet of the convicts
under bis care in the following manner
" They have not only thirty percent, ol
azoted matter, twenty-seven of albumen,
eighteen of gelatin, fifteen of fibrinc,
and seven of phosphates, but alto ten
cubic yards of air a day—upward of
500 gallons—a regular orgie."
The Indian Herald says: We hear
that a somewhat novel hranc.ii of trade
—a trade in wives—has sprung np in
some of the Punjauiy frontier districts.
Women arc kidnaped beyond the fron
tier. purchased by the Afredees and
others from their kidnapers and
hawked about for sale in British terri
tory. These women are often forcibly
married to their purchasers, in spite of
the fact that they may have husbands
and children at their own homes. The
trade is extensively carried on in the
districts of Dcra Gbaxi Khan and Ko
hat.
A gale blew down a circus tent at Ar
genta, Ark , and two lions escaped from
their broken cage. The beasts bounded
through the frightened assembly and
disappeared into the darkness. The rare
opportunity of a lion hunt was not em
braced by the inhabitants, who all got
behind securely fastened doors as quickly
*• possible. The circus employees, how
over, provider" themselves with torriri*.
pursued the ugitlves, frightened them
with the farrg lights, and drove them
I nto# cage