®ht Centre scm.ocr.it.$ cm.ocr.it.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
TheLsrgMt,Chsspnt and Beat Paper
FUHLISHBO IN CENTRE COUNTT.
Manners and Service.
Boa ton AdrartUcr.
Many of tho small annoyances that
spoil tempers and mnke life disagreea
ble might bo avoided by calling things
by their right names. For instance,
a great amount of bad manners and
insolence passes current in all classes
of society as independence, personal
pride or social superiority. It is dif
ficult to define real independence of
character; to tell just what the combi
nation of self-respect, good judgment
and mental strength is which makes
it; but it is easy enough to tell what it
is not. When a cook lioils the mutton
she was told to roast, she is disobedient,
not independent. When a writer re
venges his personal slights in u news-
Eaper, or gratifies dislike of his neigh
or by false imputation of motives, lie
playes the part of a coward, and has
no courage in him. When a passen
ger stretches his legs across a horse
car, or sits sideways with his feet in
his neighbor's way, and looks like a
thunder-clond at any one who stumbles
over him, he is simply a nuisance and
intensely disagreeable.
Th 6 false notion that work for an
employer is incompatible with inde
pendence and service incompatible
with pride, have made immeasurable
mischief in the world. It is evident
that the old fashioned doctrines of
humility and self-sacrifice are of little
account among men, excepting as
pleasant theories to lie preached from
the pulpit and moralized alxiut in con
ference meetings. "In honor preferring
one another," "ministering instead of
being ministered unto," are not the or
dinary rsles of life. et everybody
is bound to some kind of service;
everybody is dependent upon bis fel
lows; the veriest recluse must have
food, clothes, and a shelter; and if be
can make these himself be is still de
pendent upon the courtesy of bis
neighbor to let him alone. It is im
possible to be wholly independent, and
the attempt might as well be abandon
ed. But it is possible to he reasona
ble; that is within the reach of every ,
one. Sinecures and perquisites are
sweet to the faithless and lazy of both
sexes and all classes, from politicians ;
and the hangers-on of parties all along
the line to ignorant cooks and over
dress waiters —they are all alike un
deserving the name of servant, public
or private, and they should be called,
as they are, shirks and sponges.
Here one is inclined to pause nnd
at what point in the social scale does
the word servant become objectiona
ble ? A public servant is proud of the
title : and when a man calls himself n
servant of the people he assumes a ti
tle that is finer to the common ear
than that of a servant of God. To lie j
a servant of the church is the ambition
of brilliant and learned men ; to serve
at the altar means something better
than to officiate there. The measure
of professional and scientific reputation
is the service done. The expression
of the most graceful courtesy is, "Com
mand me —how can I serve you ?'
The phrase of formal respect is, "Your
obedient servant." And yet, unac
countably, the very service that friends
do for each other, that the members of ,
a family give in common, if they hap
pen to be poor in money, is absurdly
considered disgraceful, a personal dis
honor, when performed for wages.
Thedishoner cannot come in with the
pay, for the President is paid, nnd so
are legislators, honorable and dishon
orable. Ministers are paid, and doc
tors and scientists. Tbe fact is that
heads are full of nonsense about these
things that it is hard to get at the
sound reason which would set them
right. Everybody—for the exceptions
are so few that it is safe to say every
body—must have relations with other
human beings, his equals, his inferi
ors and his superiors ; if he lives he
must do something, and whnt he doe*
must serve or harm himself nnd other
people. To be absolutely independent
and free from service, we repeat, is
granted to no one and even the
choice of service and of fellow-workers
is very much limited. To talk of
freedom is in great part sheer boast
ing. We are born in harness; and
the best we can do is to keep the har
ness from chafing, and to make it a
help.
Having tried to find out what they
can do and what they waut others to
do for them, let people give the faith
fulness they require, and let us stop
calling insolence spirit, rudeness inde
pendence, noisy self assertion manli
ness, conceit pride, and boorishnenn
dignity. Give credit for good work,
whether it is eulogy or a puduing, and
confess that success is doing well that
which one undertakes. Duties as well
as rights are to be considered ; and it
can do no harm to use as common
everyday sense just a little of that
humility, just a trifle of that confes
sion of weakness and blundering,
which is made so unconditionally and
on so large a scale on Hundays. There
would be smoother days and less care
worn faces in return lor it. All this
has nothing to do with social equality,
or an equal division of property; both
are as impossible aa individual inde
pendence is. But decent manners
ought to make all intercourse agreea
ble; and decent manners will never
prevail while had ones are baptised in
all classes by false and misleading
names. ■ _
Old Age.
Do wo ever pause to think what a
beautiful thing is old age? What, a
pathos there is in the trembling voice!
What eloquence in the wrinkled face!
The "hoary head" is called by the
wisest of men "a crown of glory." Wo
cau not wonder that it is so. Think
of a life extending over a period of
three-score years and ten! Think of
a heart bearing the test of toil uud
trial for three-quarters of a century!
Think of one man breasting the storm,
year after year, till* bis head grows
white with Hakes that have gathered
there, bearing the burden of care and
anxiety until bis pulses grow feeble,
his limbs lose their tension, and "the
pitcher" is ready to bo "broken at the
fountain." Can we wonder at the
command, "Thou shalt rise up before
the hoary bead, and honor the face of
the old man?" Hut how often it is
forgotten. Instead of venerating old
ago we learn to treat it lightly. Fre
quently the smile of amusement sup
plants the answer of gentle respect.
The homely advice, the old-fashioned
ways, are made the subjects of jokes
and puns. Even the titles of filial
respect, "father," "mother," are drop
ped for "the old man," "the old wo
man," or "the governor." Ah! can
we with impunity speak thus of tin
dear ones who have spent their best
years in toil for us? Can we seethe
form once strong and erect becoming
bent and feeble, the waving brown
hair daily whitening, tho firm, cla-tie
step growing slow and weary, and
heartlessly call that dear father "tin
old governor!" Can we note the fur
rows upon the ouce clear brow, tin
glasses shading the once bright eyes,'
uud tho wrinkles in bauds that hav<
lost their whiteness in toil for us, and
lightly speak of that patient, loving
mother as "the old woman?"
Our warmest friends should be
among those who ar- aged. '1 he weight
of years does not nece-sarilv chill the
ln-art or sour the disjnwiitioii. Mow
many furrowed faces cau we think of
that are ever wreathed with smiles?
How many wrinkled, toil worn hand
have held our own in a clasp warm
and cliugiug as that of youth ? How
many an aged heart yearns over u
with love as tender ami ardent a- we
ever can receive from our light-hearted
young companions?
Let us, then, give love for love.
Smooth their declining pathway with
gentle words and kind attentions ; and
when they linger upon the scenes of
their own early days, let us learn what
memories they cherish, what actions
they regret, that, by emulating their
worthy deeds, gentle recollections may
enhance the joys of our latter years.
Some of us will doubtless live to In
old. Silver locks will take the place of
the brown. Dimples will be ex
changed for wrinkles. The lily and
the rose, that now vie with each other
in freshness and beauty, shall both b<-
blighted by lifes chilling bla-t. The
eye that now glow- and spnrkh-ahull
be dimmed by the dust of
way. The firm, elastic step will In
feeble and tottering: the erect form
In-nt nnd unsteady. When we have
climbed the rugged steep that now
frowns before us, and linger upon its
summit, so weary ami feeble, just wait
ing for the summons to launili into
eternity, will there not be nn awful
sublimity overhanging that brief time?
How our glance will wander back
along the path we trod from childhood
to old age! How strange will seem
the thought that we were once merry,
light-hearted children—that youth,
with nil it- j,,ys and pleasures, was
ours. How tenderly then shall we
think of our early friends. Other*
will not remember them, only that
their names are carved UJH>II the
gleaming marble in the churchyard.
But how distinct to us will IKI the
memory of each face and form, each
smile nnd word. How we shall long
for just one such day as we sfiend with
the aged now. Aye, we shall rejoice
to meet even a stranger who knew one
of them in youth. Oh, we cannot
conceive how earnest and touching the
memory of that past. What a solemn,
la-autilul thing, that serene old age.
1 low he would claim for it the rcsjx-ct
nnd Veneration of the young. Then
obeying that grand old rule let us do
to others as we would they ahould do
to us. These aged ones around u*
look back over a youth as sweet and
as precious as our own. The friends
ami companions of their early days
were just as dear to them as ours are
to us. They cherish memories as ten
der and sacred as we ever can. Their
life-work has lieen as noble and as
faithfully discharged as ours ever can
be. (Lan we feel the tenderness of the
thought, they once were younjj and
now are old ? They are only enjoying
a little rest after life's storm, a brief
moment in which to collect their
thoughts and compose their mind be
fore embarking for unknown shores.
Let these last (lays be brightened by
our smiles and gladdened by our love.
Let us honor, admire—yea, reverence
the hoary head. We have often seen
persons, upon finishing a task, brush
their aoiied garments before going to
meet a friend. That la just what old
age is doing. Ita life-work is finished.
Now it is only smoothing tbe Crinkles
and the dust of toil from its garments
ready to meet tbe King.— Dora Dean.
GENEBAI. QEAMT denies tbe Chicago
report that he is interested in any in
■uraii oe schemes.
A Blond Curdling Romance.
"Coal costs money."
A hitter, mocking smile —the smile
of a demon that has been bullied in his
unholy efforts to lure a soul to the ut
termost depths of the Inferno —played
around the Grecian lips of (lirolle
Mahafiy as these cruel words fell with
cruel iticisivuness from her lips. Over
the backyard fence came the silvery
gleams of the inconstant moon as she
moved through the heavens in bril
liant sph ndor, and touched with gen
tle hand tlio tines covered woodshed
and caused the dog, whose blood curd
ling hay had fallen in such fearful
cadences upon Rupert iletherington's
large, West Sidecars, to stand out, per
fect in every outline, against the pure
mezzotints of the recently painted dour
stems.
"You are jesting, sweetheart," mur
mured Rupert, pulling up his pants so
they would not wrinkle at ilie knees,
and seating himself beside the girl.
"Am I?" was the reply in cold
Crystal-I.ake accents, that -■ ruled In
Rupert t< pierce hi- very vest. * ll'yoii
really think so look out of the w inclow ."
Rupert obeyed. The moonlight
streamed into the room as lie pushed
aside the heavy pome-granule < urtuins,
lulling in mellow splendor on vase of
malachite ami alabaster, on statue
and bronze. Tazzas of jo*|>er ami
lapis lazuli stood in recess and alcove
crowded with (lower* ; curious trilb*
in gold and silver carving, in amber
and mosaic, slo id ou table and etag n .
A curiously-wrought sideboard that
was new in the days of the Crusaders
stood at its lel't. The (ire glowed rud
dily in the grate, the pure white flarm*
leapitig up the chimney as if in very
glee. Amber-tinted sour tuub, us
Rupert well knew, lay concealed with
iin the recesses of the sideboard. < >ut-
I side the keen wind of Decern In r whi-t-
I led shrilly through the d< ud hrnueht -
of the sturdy oaks, telling ol the cold
and suffering that wa- to < tne ere the
.soft breath of spring ki--<d the earth
into life again. The bleak moorland
black and dreary stretched away to
eastward, and across its sullen face
the lahbita were running. Rupert -aw
all this at a glance. W bile engaged
: with the sombre thoughts which the
scene induced, a hand tell lightly upon
his shoulder. He turned and fan*!
(iirolle.
"And do you really m< an what you
sav, swcitheart lie asked.
"Yes," replied the girl. "There
must he some kind of an understand
ing. I can not bluff away all the days
of mv youth."
"Liuiugli," said Rupert, "I will
marry you."
•'Hut when?" asked the girl.
Leaning over the Is autilul girl, he
hi**cd in hef ear the fateful words:
"when the White Stockings win a
game."
A iiiiinaiiee of |h|_>.
S.,rf Ik Ti-lsffsm.
Secretary I'relinghuyen is aivi r
tising in the daily paper- to notify the
heirs, executors, administrators, agents
and a-signee- of the captain, offio r-.
owners and cr w of the privateer Gen
eral Armstrong, d*stroys| by the Eng
lish at Fatal, in i*cpteml>er, I*l4, to
transmit to him, in writing, a state
ment of the amount and nature of
their claims In-fore the 13th of the
present mouth. This i* probably the
la-t official mention that will In- made
| of ono of the tn<st brilliant and ro -
mantic naval exploits in the world's
history. The defence which Captain
Samuel C. Reid, with seven nun and
ninety guns, made wlu n attacked in
neutral waters by a British squadron
carrying 138 guns and 2,H00 men, is
the Thermopylm of tinval annals. The
Yankee sailors, after lu ating off suc
cessive attacks by b -ats. launches,
shi|s of the line nnd Is-arding parties
for anight and a day, during which
time they destroyed more than three
times their own number, turned a gun
down their hatchway, scuttled their
brig, and retired to an old Gothic con
vent, to which the enemy did not sec
fit to follow them. This exploit de
lnved the arrival of < aehrane's fleet
at New Orleans until General Jackson
had reached and fortified that city,
ami according to his testimony ended
the war of I*l2. The brig General
Armstrong has lieen hardly less fa
mous in diplomacy than it was in war.
The United Slat*. England and Por
tugal were for manv years involved in
a tangle growing out of a claim for
indemnity, in the course of which
Louis Napoleon, as Emperor of the
French, acted as referee. Mr. Lowell
has succeeded in obtaining from the
Hritish Government important docu
ments bearing on this claim, and Sen
ator Pendleton instituted the legisla
tive action that has at last resulted in
the award of $70,739 to the partici
pant* in that action after a delay of
sixty-seven years. Captain Reid re
ceived from the Legislature of this
State, at the hands of Governor Tomp
kins, an elegant gold-mounted aword,
and frotn the Common Council of this
city a silver service in commemora
tion of this event, of which William
Cobbctt wrote: "It is the essence of
heroism; it drives one wild with ad
miration.'*
How mauy young ladles we daily
meet who are pretty —some beautiful
—who dress richly and with taste, and
whose manners are apparently above
reproach, until the wabbling of the
mouth reveals the fact that she is
chewing gum. Then all the charms
she possessed vanished, and we observe
only the rudeness of her habits.
Another Story or Custer's Heath.
The cuxo of Sebastian Ikek, whoso
career among the Kioux Indians was I
noted in this journal, has been fully ]
investigated at the County Poor Office
by <)verw or Met ionegal. I luring the
recounting of bis wanderings, the old
man gave a reporter from this journal
a clearer insight into the buttle of the
' Little Itig Horn" than be before had.
Heck, who had been a captive among
the Sioux for eight years, participated
in that battle. He recounted the de
tails of the murderous charge upon j
Custer, in his broken English, in a!
i maimer that was interesting even to !
| those who were fnmiliur with tin j
| slaughter of the gallant general and j
| his hand. He said tiial upon tie
night of the charge Sitting Hull |
j peeled < 'lister, and had ma -od all hi
forces and had a hand of 3/KHJ war
' riors, of which he was one. The plan i
of tin ir battle was as follows : The
Indians fi-wed in a larg'- corral with
saplings, and within hunt hrt . Ip u
the saplings they hung tic ir hlaukt: ,
and within they fix.-d billets of wood
to represent theniselv* -a - ated about
the lip-*. They then went into tin
mountains surrounding the spot ami
waited tiil Cu-tcr and hi company
I should he attracted to tic trap tin y
had devised. They were micci -ful,
I for the gem ral saw the light, r eon
noitered. ami thought his chance had
come. He opened fir. upon the In
i diaiis. This was the signal. With
1 one fell swoop 3,000 painted devil*
, rushed ihiw n nj>oii him from the rnoun
j tain side-. In a moment tic littl*
I hand of 300 men were surrounded,
i ami tlicum-<|unl battle wa-<• .iium ic •d.
j Beck -aid that Custer showed no far,
hut r into the light with eye* ami
-ahre fla-hing, ami m v, r raised it hut
that he left upon - me redskin's fac<
, hi* bh.' dy and ragged-edg- 1 trade
mark "X," which so many of hi- vie
j tims iu the late war knew *o well. <>ne
; by one hi* men tell around l.itn, and
at la-t he st( d alone among tic nr
battling with hi- tru-ty -.il>r- iu hi*
re maining right hand. But at la-t h<
jto . I'. 11, pi< -r<'d ley .-even shot*. I! k
-aid that hi* tight wa- terrible iu it
de-trin tiven. -s. Fourteen of tic •
' Indians wlto en tercel the- fray paid I r
|it with tic ir lives, and tin :r cold,
! copper-huetl face* lay turned to tic
tnor: ing's sun next day, with 300
brave -uldii-i* who followed the brave
| Cu-ter into his last fight. 'I hi i* the
j <tory of tic old captive- of the Sioux,
who cluims that he wa* there and saw
| that intrepid officer die'. His la-t
word* were: "I am alone; I have
i dotm my !>• *t ; the hoy* are all gone
' and I will go with them."— ltvhc*>er
, I h mur rot.
Some If bltr House .Memories.
J r-ee /lure Kit. ; f .rt in I
h'lUhm.'
Wt.h,f*-j B .nl. . .
Martin Van Iluren stepped from the
Vice Pre iih'iicy into the Presidential
chair. He was n peculiarly dignified
mau, able ami accomplished. IL*
*< n*<- e>f decorum wa* erne of his im-t
striking charae teri.-ti, , ami lie wa*
far fr m sympathizing in Jackson's
dctmi. iati'' ide-.is. Mrs. Eaton, the
l>. autiful wife of Jack-en's favorite
t'abinet officer, tells a witty story at
tic rxpe'iiseot Mr. Van Buren. Her
hu*haud,(>t n< ral Eaton, was a* frank,
grufl anel unpolished as .ln<k*-ui hint
-If. He- invitee), informally, one
evening, Jackson, Vau Hnren, the
French Minister, G< neral Cass ami
.several e.ther gentlemen to come
round and a--i*t in eli-j>oing ofa hnr
i rel eif oysters just se nt lim front Nor
folk. A few moment.* after the arrival
|of the di*tingui*hd party the butler
i announced the oysters r< adv fiir >n
sumption. Mrs. Eaton led the way,
t escorted by Mr. Van Buren, and a* he
j approached the kite-hen door lie < x
• claimed:
"Good heave ns! madam, where are
you going to take u 7"
"Inlei the kitchen, e,f course," re
plied Mrs. I!aton cheerfully. Mrs.
Eaton was a model housewife in he r
elay, taking n. much pride in her
kitchen a* in her parlor, nnd o she
threw open the door a novel sight pre
sented itself. The floor was as white
a* soap and water could make it, ami
covered with fine white sand. The
tables looked like box-wood, and the
tins were bright n* mirrors. Added to
this, the appetizing eedor e>f oysters
roasted in the shell, the novelty f the
occasion ami the sprightly l>e?auty of
the hostess, one woulei seippose that
even Mr. Van Buren might melt into
a state eif pleasantry. But, on the
contrary, his featured reflected only
his inability to enjoy a frolic of this
kind, anel he sat upright and unsmil
ing until towarels the end ef the im
iirejmptu fete, when he turned towarels
drs. Eaton and said ;
"This is the first meal of the kind
served in like manner I have ever in
dulged in, hut I trust it will not tie
the iasL I think oysters never haei
such a delicious taste befeirc."
'Fatiici, you are an awful brave man,'
•aiel a Detroit youth, as be smoothed
down the old man's gray locks the other
evening. "How do you know that
Willie T" "Oh, I heard some men down
at the atore say that vou killed thou
sands of soldiers during the war."
"Me? Why, I was a beef contractor for
the army!" "Yes, that's what they
**id I" explained young innocence, aa
he slid for the kitchen.— Detroit Ft**
Frtu.
Hi who obey* with modesty appears
worthy of some day or other Ming a!- 1
lowed to command.
Bernhardt and Her Sew Relative*.
'I lie 24th of the present month
Sarah Bernhardt is to make her ap
pearance iu a Paris theatre, at a bono*
lit organized for the Widow Clieret.
It is safe l<> predict flint the widow
will gain at least6o,ooo francs, or 818,-
000, by this performance. The play
will lie "La Dame aux Carnclia*. AI:
the boxes are sold, the prices rang
ing from 2W to 800 francs ; n-nts j|,
tin orchestra brought oO to 100 franc*
cadi; ditto in the first gallery, and
to to 40 in the second gal rv.
Tiic only ones in the cast who play
ed with Sarah in Am'-riea nr< h<r
sister Jeanne and Mile. Sydney.
Apropos,- of this performance the
Paris world is astonished to learn that
one of Sarah'- new relative* has lieer,
nrr' tod for kh-p! .mania. Mine. Mao-
Craig i the si-t< r of M. Damaln,
- Laii. J. H< r husband, a sort
of He teh-Iri litrian, ran away and left
her with two or three children and no
mom y, and she fell ill of a 1. ver. Since
tie n ! •• h - be- u of w ak mind, and
it was while in this unhappy state
that he i !>• a doll baby's drc-- in the
Magazine du I. mvre. The brutal
manager or | i"j ri t.r of that big shop
refused torecogni/ - that the poor lady
wa ill, and In- had In r locked up in a
police cell.
Her friend- f tirid her the next day,
hut it was only on ihcdemuud of the
coinrni--aire of police that the mana
ger withdrew his charge. There are a
great many ladie-here in Paris who
declare they will never again put f .t
in the Magazine du I>uvre. J r.
MaeCraig i- somewhere iu America.
Ljok out for him.
Mm Hauled < oniedy.
Thr e month- ngo, when a -crvant
! girl came t . a well-to-do family ; the
|ii*lrt -< -aid she desired lu js.-t the
; girl in advance on one <- ( rlnin little
| point. Sin-ami her husband belonged
to an amateur theatrical company, and
iii ca-e Jane hear* any racket around
i lb" house .-he must not imagine that
they were quarreling—they would
' -imply hi- rehearsing lie ir part*. The
' pliiv I g:m on the third evening of the
j girl-' i. gageim nt. The husband taunted
ii* wife with extravagance, and *h-
- played "poker" for mote y:
i and* chair* v. re tip*et, an I f. opto J.
I H'-n 1. k I ar> :;nd and threat* were
i made of "going I rn to mother."
Next morning the mi-'n -aid to th
j girl
"Did you hear tr playing our path*
in' The j ri _*• I Wife,la-t night
"Y-s'm!"
"It wa* simply a rehearsal, you
j know : nnd you inusu't think strange
i d my throwing a vase at ray huzhaml
I and calling him a 'vile wretch !* "
'I hr- • < r four nights after that, the
curtain v ent up on a play called the
■ "Jtah i - Husband.' and Jane le ard
sols, sigh-, protestations, threats and
i exclamations. The next day was call
ll M Coa>inf Bonta Tight, and was
' m -tly in the ft nt hall. The followed
" flie Depth* of Di sjwir," "Threats of
Divorce," and "Sc ha Wretch !" until
Jane wa* at last tired of linving a
| private l.ox and of being the only
audit net . The other morning she aje
;nar I in the sitting-room with her
hat on and her bundle under her arm,
I and said;
"I'lease ma'am! hut I'm tired of
tragedy. I'm a girl as naturally like*
ito sec hugging and ki--mg ami love
making, on the -tage; and when Marks
:ho law ver come* in on the what-do
yoti-eall it, I'm sure to be tickled to
death! I think I'll try some family
where they rehearse comedy and have
a di al of kiwing. and perhaps I may
j come in as a'supe.'nnd get a small
! sl-.are of it for myself!"
The Irishman's Hream,
Two Irishmen traveling, came to n
poorly supplied inn.
"What ran you give us for supper?"
said they to the lean and shivering
landlord.
"I have uaught in the house but
oiii pigeon;" replied he;"so you must
make the mo-i of it between ye."
"All right," replied the shrewder of
the two; "bring us your bird, and
we'll divide lym."
The dish wa* accordingly produced,
w hen Faddy, turning to his companion,
said: "Now, Mike, I've been think
ing this ghost ofa bird won't hear di
viding : what d'ye say, to tossing up
for it in this way : We'll go to bod,
and to-morrow moruirg whoever has
had the finest dream shall have the
pigeon for his breakfast.
The proposal was accented, and
next morning, when the fellow-travel
er* met, Faddy took the word, and
inquired of his companion bow he had
slept, and what he had dreamed.
"Bedad !" replied Mike," and did
not I just dratne, and wasn't it a drame
that'll hate hollow every other that
was iver drained. There wa* lin the
very midst of the vivinth heaven, with
all the powers of glory round me, and
clouds of angels and archangels and a
bewilderment of saints and patriarchs,
all making much of me hoisting me
up, and up, till I couldn't go any
higher, and then I woke."
'Och, well," said the other, "it's a
strange thing, but I had exactly the
self same drame meself, and I know
what you say is true. Ibr I saw ye liv
ing up and up, and I says to moself,
"Sure, now Mike's got so h gh as
he'll never be sich a fool so to come
down any more,*' so I got up and ate
the pigeon, I
A Woman'* Whim*.
The Ktnprew Josephine ha<l 000,000
frytca t<>r Mr personal espeoae*, but
tlu cum was tint sufficient, utul her
debt* Mcreaaed to an appalling degree.
Notwithstanding the jKMition of her
hu-baiul, bo cog hi never submit to
i either order or etiquette in her private
! life. She ro-<-at !> o'clock. Her toilet
. coniMuined much time, and she lavish*
ed unwearied efforts on the pn-erva
tion and embellishment of her JTSOII.
•She changed her linen three time* i 4
day, and never wore a pair of stock
ings that were not new. Huge has
j k ts were brought to her containing
I different drosses, shawls and hats.
I rom tbe-e she selected her costume
foi the day. Hlie possessed luiween
llireo and four hundred shawls, and
! always wore one in the morning, which
die draped about h<r shoulder- with
, unequalled grace. The evening toilet
! * V!,H as carelul as that of the morning.
I lien she upj-uri-<J with flowers, fx-arts,
or precious -tones in her hair. The
smallest assembly wa always an ooca
i don for her to order a n< w co-tume,in
■pile of th<- boards of drosc-s in vari
ous palao Honaparte was irritated
by tiie-<• cxpcuditiii <- . He would flv
in 11 passion, and hi- wife would weep
and prom;-' t , Is- more prudent, after
which she would go on in the same
way. Ii is almost iucndibh that this
i pa--ioii for dress should never have
exhausted itself with the same cure,
; even when she saw nooiie. She died
1 covered with ribbon- and pale r<-c
--colored satin.
A ( tiihl's Heart.
'Hie other day a curious old woman,
having a bundle in h<r hand, and walk-
I ing with painful effort, -at d..wn on a
'■iirh-stone to re-t. A grouji of 111r■ •
little one,-, the oldest about nine, -top
ped in front of the old w "man, saving
' ie \i r wont, hut watching lur awe.
Ml" smiled. Suddenly the smile fadid,
| mid a ( ruer of the old calico a|irou
(went up i i wi|K? away a fear, Then
| the eldest child ask<-d :
"Are you -orry 1 "cause you haven't
g 't any children ?"
"1 I had children oucc, hut they
| are nil dead. whispered the woman, a
j sob in her throat.
"I'm worry," said the little girl, as
In r chin quivered. "I'd give you one
; if my little brotln r-. but I haven't got
I>nt two, and 1 don t Is lieve I'd like
; to spare one."
"God bless you, child—hie-- sou
- forever, - Jibed the old woman, and
tor a minute her face. wa buried in
j Iter nprou.
"Hut I'll tell you what I'll do," - ri
ou-ly continued the child. "You may
kis- us all oucc, and if litth Hen isn't
. afraid, you may ki-- him four time-,
to he - just a- swift a- eandv."
Pedestrians, who saw three well
;dr I children put tin ir arm- around
that strango. old woman's neck and
ki her, were greatly puzzled. Thev
didn't know th< hearts of children, and
' they didn't hear the wotnauV words ns
g, !■ i "to go ;
"('.children, I'm only a poor old
woman, believing I'd n .thing to live
i tor; hut vou'v gave me a light'r
h<-art than I've had for leu long year-."
Don't llox t ur ( hildren's Mars.
An exchange give- the following
-en-ihle advice in regard to the to •
cotum .a practice among parents of
! isixing tin ir children's ears. The
drum of the ear is a- thin as paper,
an l isstretclied like a curtain between
the air outride and that within; an l
thus having to support it and being
extremely delicate, a slap wiih the
hand on the side of the foci', made
with the force which sudden and vio*
| lent anger gives it, has in multitudes
, <.f cases ruptured this delicate mem
brane "resulting in the affliction of
deafness for lite. As the right hand
is almost always used, it is the loft ear
which is stricken ; this aids in account
ing for the fact that the left car is
more frequently affected with deafness
than the right.
Ol.ti Scotch gontlenian sitting in a
Toronto car —a young lady enters and
makes a rush for the topmost scat.
The car starts rather suddenly, the
young lady lands on the old gentle
man's knee, blushing, and exclaiming,
"Oh! hog your |tardon." Old O.—
"Dinna mention it, lassie. I'd raythor
bao y sittin' on my knee tliau stand
ing on ceremony."
A umr whose husband was the chum
pion snorer of the community in which
they resided, confided to a female friend
the following painful intelligence: "My
life has not been one of unalloyed de
light. I have had the roeasiee, the
chteken pox, the cholera, the typhoid
fever and the inflammatory rheumatism,
but I never knew what real misfortune
was until I married a burglar alarm."
Ilroolyn k EagU*
To bcoutiiy the loaf we Iroat it* top,
but when Father Time front* our human
top, we do not oonaider it in that aenae,
but haaten to cover up bia work.
ArraaaxT evil ia but an anti-chamber
to higher bliaa, aa every aunael ia hut
veiled at night, and will ahow itself
again aa the red down ol a new day.
Wnx Abel waa followed to the grave
the funeral prooesainn consisted only
"of member* of the first lamily,"
Warn a burglar make* a raid on the
dwelling of a Texas editor, the only
thing the burglar takes when he leaves,
ia bia departure.