Dark Days.
Ah, met nh, tnu! tho dark, dark days.
When lift* seemed far too hard to hear;
When disinnl were it* weary way*,
And doubt was very near despair;
When foolish seemed my beat-laid plana,
Impracticable, hopeless, vain;
And I wn* longing to let slip
The work that since has brought me gain!
The dark, dark days, when weeping skies
And sobbing winds seemed but to be
Tho echo of that human woo
Whose deeper meaning was in mo;
The days when Love had proved untrne.
And Friendship lint n broken reed—
A broken reed that pierced my heart,
And made it inly, dumbly bleed!
The dark and dreary days in which
The ixxly would not serve the mind,
And painful languors had the power
My will in impotence to bind;
When Duty called me with strong voice,
And, heedless both of blame and praise,
I answered her with fainting heart—
Oh, tho long, aching, wenry days!
but thin, O soul, thou wort but one,
But one in a great company,
And each had had some days ns dark
As any that had come to thee;
For into every life must fall
Tho solemn rain of human tears,
Ane over every life is hung
Thosoml>er clouds of drifting fears.
But not in langhter and in song
Was I tbo noblest lesson taught:
'Twas in the struggle of dark hours
My soul to highest niins was wrought.
Then Faith, Knduranee, I'atieucc, Hope,
Came near, and made me strong for strife;
And thus the storm of life's dark hours
Brought me the harvest-time of life.
—Harper's liazar.
IN THE GLASS.
The village of Slapton was ns quiet
a village as can be. There are few
houses in it; and the congregation
that gathered every Sunday at the
parish church came chieily from the
farms that were scattered broadcast
over the surrounding country.
Tho vicar was the Itev. Herbert
Gardner, and he was the happy father
of some half a dozen children, the
eldest of whom, M.ittie, was a ••harm
ing girl of twenty. There was little
society in the village, and Mattie'.s
chief ideas of the world at large were
drawn from the occasional visits she
made to a relative who lived in the
neighltoring county town, still, though
she was homely and unsophisticated,
there was none of that affected sim
plicity you so often se in girls.
She was a frank, fearless, outspoken
girl, full of life and spirits, and never
so happy as when rambling about the
old vicarage garden, picking la*k< t
fuls of roses for some sick boy or girl
and carrying with them sunshine into
Borne darkened home.
And in such works of real love and
charity the last few years of her life
had been mainly spent. Her father
called her " his curate;" and, as the
living was a small one, she was the
only curate he had.
Mattie had been free as yet from
" heart disease," though a neighboring
squire's son had made several awk
ward attempts at love-making; and,
though .Mattie quite recognize! the
compliment he paid her, she never for
a moment regarded him in any other
light than as a friend, and remained
herself perfectly heart-whole. This
had happened when she was eighteen,
and time had gone on smoothly enough,
and at twenty she was still happy in
her uneventful lot.
Hut the smooth run of life's wheels
was interrupted at last and the w heels
were joltisl out of their usual track;
for alsiut this time there came to tin
Village a young surgeon who w as look
ing out for a good opening for prac
tice, and hail determined to settle down
here. As a matter of course, he and
Mattie often met in the houses of the
poor, and. although not a word of love
passed between them, people began to
associate their names together, and to
speak of what might happen as a cer
tainty.
One day when Mattie was, as usual,
amongst her roses, a servant came to
say that Doctor Robertson had asked
for her father, and, as he was from
home, for her. When she entered the
room with her basket of roses on her
arm, the doctor might well lie excused
If he wondered which were the fairer
—the -tose in the basket or the rose
with the basket. If such thoughts
passisl through his mind he quickly
put them aside, for he said:
" I came to ask Mr. Gardner if he
would step down to old Silas Jones,
who is very ill with fever. They are
very poor, and any h lp you could give
them would IKS of more use than
medicine."
" Papa is from home," she said, "and
will not return till to-morrow. Hut I
will take them some beaf-tea and port,
if you think that would lie good for
him."
" Nothing could be better," said the
doctor. " Hut you must not go there
yourself for fear of infection. I am
going past the house and will take
them myself if you will give them to
me."
"No, thank you doctor," said Miss
Mattie. " I never shirk my duty nor
delegate it toothers, so I will take them
myself."
" Anyway, let mo walk with you if
you arc going now and we can talk
about the case as we go."
In a few minutes the beef-tea and
the wine were ready and Mattie sal
' lied forth with tho doctor. And this
was the way they talked about the
j ease ;
" It's a beautiful day, isn't it V"
" Glorious!" said Mattie.
" What has become of you in the
evenings lately? 1 used to see you
frequently, but now you are never to
bo seen."
•• Minnie lias not been well lately, >•
I have staid at home on her account.
It is pleasant to know that some one
misses me," she said, laughing.
" I ini<- you a great deal. Miss Mat
tie -almost as much, if Hot quite as
much, as your own people do. This is
I Jones'cottage ; so now let lnr take tic
tilings in. '
•• No, ind< id ; I shall go in myself,"
said Mattie.
" No, decidedly 110," said tho doctor.
"It can never lie your duty to rush
into uncallcd-for dangt r. lam obliged
to see these p. ip] so let me take the
j basket in."
From that day it began to dawn on
• Mat tie's heart that here was one man
who missed her when she was absent
and who tried t<> keep her out of
danger.
And little by little this thought grew
lugger and took root, until there
came a sort of echo to it, which said,
' " I uii-s him. too. I wish he had not
to ri-k his life by going to see fever
' eases."
Ami from that day there was less
• I *
'! cordial friendship and there win more
1 shy reserve in her intercourse with the
j doctor. And sometimes l>tr Rob
ert-"!! did n >t know what to make of
it, and one< v ning he said:
' | '• What lia> i I done to ve\ you. Miss
Mattie?"
To which she r plied; " Ve\ me!
' Why, nothing, of roiir*'-! Whatever
' i made you think y>ai had t"
"My own Stupidity, 1 -up; re
pli -d he. "I lioiild be vry sorry to
1 vex jou, Mi -■ M itti
• M Tien don't talk about it, elao yon
will," she -aid.
" What a lovely r • that i.-! Would
1 you mind giving it to me to-how ha
tha! y- ii arc not vexed?" -aid the din
tor.
"There are plenty on that bush,"
ihe answered. "Ton can take as
1 many as yon like."
" Hut won't you give nie that one?
I am g ing away f.>r a fortnight and
it will be a keepsake—lf you will give
it to me. Do, phase."
"if you really want it you shall have
it," she said, as she took it out'of her
bosom and gave it to him.
And, he, as he pinned it in his coat,
said: "It will remind inc of a rose
even fairer than itself."
"For shame, doctor," said Miss
Mattie. " 1 will not -top to hear such
gross flattery" and away she ran to
ward the house.
"Shake hands lir*t," lie cried. "I
am going to-morrow, early. One may
get smashed up on the journey, so I
should like to part'fri- nils. It is a long
way to Manchcsti r."
she gave him her hand, saying:
"Good-bye, Doctor Kolwrtson; I wish
you a pleasant journey."
He had b-cn gone almut a w-ek
when, as Mattie was coming down the
street, if street it could !• called, the
doctor's housekeeper was standing at
the door with a paper in her hand.
When Mattie drew* near, the old
woman cried out: " Laws a in ussy t
Miss Mattie, but do'ee just read this
paper. My owd eyes hintia so good as
they oncost was;" and the i>ld lady
held out a crumpled newspaper.
And Mattie read: "On the 24th
inst., at the parish church, Manchester,
James Robertson, M.D., only son of
I'eter Rnliertson, M.R.t'.S. and L.S.A.,
of Manchester, to Sarah Kliznheth,
daughter of the late Isaac Jefferson,
of I'olton."
For a moment Mattie was speech
less witli lidnglis] feelings. Then
came the reflection that this garrulous
old Woman must not sec her pain.
And summoning ftp all her resolution,
i site said:
'• If you writetohlm, wish him much
happiness for me."
In the solitude of her chamber she
looked into hor heart and learned her
secret. This man, who was another's
; husband, had made himself dearer to
Iter than any one on earth could lm;
and she had been mistaken in sup|>oH
ing that he cared for her. Oh, shnrne (
shame, to love whrre she was not loved
j —to give her heart Unasked ! titill,
' she never told her love—the secret was
' her own, and she could keep it invio.
i late and meet him on his return with
t out flinching. And, although she had
> no power to put him out of her heart,
she could and would prevent her mind
i from dwelling upon him.
r One morning she heard that the
n i doctor had coma home. She won
I standing amongst her rosea with a
f very sad heart, when she saw Dr.
k \ Hoborl mi passing up tho road with a
lady. He lifted his hat to Iter, and she
il tried to return his salutation as she
1- would any other friend, hut somehow
s the warm Idood came to her eheeks and
e i it-was hut a stiff and unfriendly little
. Isnv that she gave him. And while
I she stood thinking of it all, and woti
i dering why she should he so unhappy,
e 1 she heard footsteps behind Iter on the
ii gravel walk, and turning, saw In.
> llohertson udvaneing eagerly to greet
her. Again the crimson tide flooded
" her fai e, making her look very lovely
• in her confusion. Hut she managed
'' t ' slammer out something ahout "tiiad
to-it i'you," w hen the doctor hroko in
• with :
s "Not half so glad as I am to see
H you. I have heen to a wedding since
' I left Slaptoii, and enj >yed my holiday
immensely."
" Yes, 1 know." sle said ; " I saw
your wife, walking with you this
• j morning."
" Did you, indeed?" lie said, while a
1 smile of ijuiet joy lit up Ills face.
"And where were you looking when
you saw her in the glu-s?"
a . She looked a? him quickly, then her
a eyes dropped before the i-xpri-ssion of
' his, and again the telltale blush ovi r
f spread, face ami nek.
" Win re did you see my wife,
v Mat tie?"
e •• iii tlie road," said Mattic.
I.! •• N'o. that win my i ' -r," he n plied.
1 ! "In the new spaper." she urged.
r " That w as my •■■ n.-in," he ixplained.
"t'oine Imre. Del you look in the
' glass thii morning?"
"Vis," win p red Mattie.
"Tlun that's where von saw my
• wife if you saw her anywhere."
1 And. of eoiirie. that settled it*; and
yon all know w hat happened as well a*
s ! can tell von.
si iiiMim st it\ps.
r If i- said t! a 1 m re rs falls on the
• as' f rn than on the western sides if
' continents.
' Dr. II \ :i a- i t! tie . mm- n
par row is liable to Lave smallpox
1 and is cap iMe of i immuiiii atifig that
disease.
' It i' -lingesti-d bv ID rr Dm berg
that tie- un may be ha ■? i h- • n the
'ide invisible from the earth, the water
and the atmosphere I • ing drawn
thitle r by the efTect of gravitation.
At the raising of the vi * -1 La
Province, sunk in tie 1! isphoriis, the
telephone was added to the ordinary
iquipment of the diver. One of the
glasses of the helmet was replaced by
a copper plate in which a telephone was
insert d. and the divi r had only to turn
his head slightly in order to report
what he had seen or to receive instruc
tions.
Italian paper" announce tin- discov
ery at Dorgali. in the island of Sar
dinia. of a great stalactite rave. Fifteen
galleries have las-n already traced. In
one of them there is a row of pillars
like white marine, and the floor is
smooth, resembling tie- finest basalt.
When ht up with torches the rombi
nations and variations of coloring arc
wonderfully l.< autiful.
Scientifle investigations show among
their latest nwults the existence of
many curious lightgiving forma in the
lower depths of the ocean. Of these
the most wonderful is the luminous
shark, a specimen of which beinjU
eaptuifsl and confined in a dark room
gave forth from tin* surface of itahndy
and head a vivid and greenish phos
phorescent light.
Professor Simmons, an Knglish
aeronaut, made an ascent in which
lie crossed the Knglish channel. Tho
balloon to"k a southeasterly direction
over Morecamlie bay. but came to a
standstill, and then slowly drifted
back again, over the town toward the
Irish sea. Simmons, heing anxious to
avoid being taken over the sea, threw
out the grapnel on Walrn-y island, hut
It caught a stone wall and jerked the
car so much that he was thrown out,
hut sustained no injury.
A NearH|ghtcil Horse In Spectacles,
In a paper on near-sightedness rend
, before tbi >' York County Medical
j society, Dr. W. F. Mittendorf told of a
i fine horse in Ilcrlin that became in-
I tractable, and on examination proved
• to hi- suffering from myopia Tho
■ owner had a pair of glasses made for
i it and it became as tractable as ever.
> American students, Dr. Mittendorf
; said, are nut so subject to near-sighted
. ne.-a as Herman students. Sedentary
occupations and want of exercise de-
I velop myopia and women, therefore,
, are likelier than men to contract it
• It generally sets in in childhood;
. rarely nppcars after twenty-one years
•of age. Blindness often follows
I neglect of It. Glasses should be worn
. early In life to prevent Its progress.
I They should he rather weak than
strong, and a slight blue tint Is do
| sirahle.
LA HI EH' DEI'A KIM EXT.
Quern Kininn of the Mitudwlch Inlnmta.
The queen of the Mundwlch Island,
is not only a very great favorite will
the natives, but is also largely affectis
by the Knglish colony. She has beet
twice to England and received mud
attention and many presents fron
Queen Victoria. Hep one-quarter quot:
I id native blood gives her the appear
i unce of a brunette. She is forty-si)
years old, and, like all native womer
whose lives are of content and easj
indolence, .ccnis to be much younger
. ;!ii ii tumbles th" pictures of Victorii
taken tvunt) years ago. Queen Kiiimi
i-> what at an American watering-placi
might be termed a "stunning" drc" -or
and is |i i esse I of a mania for beiiif
.photographed in dilferent costumio
and attitudes. At Montano's, tin
swell photogiapher of Honolulu, she i
seen iii no I t than twenty-five dif
ferent photographs, arid in no two id
them in the same dre-s.
(Jucrr Orlt hi oi a Piitiliitiri.
The Austrian empress, while on n
little country excursion with her usual
retinue, stepped at an inn for refresh
ments. D'-ing heated she t<h>k off her
- bonnet and hung it on the hack of
chair, where a playful puppy inad<
sueli uii-rldi I with it b-forc imylmd)'
attention was attraet'"l as to rend' r it
unlit for further wear. Of course,
every Lady in the party offered her own
hat in tin- place of the one that vv.u
dauint"'d, but the impress took tin
whim to finish the excursion without
any other h ad covering than that sup
plied ly nature. Jb ing observed iii
tbi< fa-hion bv soni" ladles of the sty
lish who are eager to imitate anything
that r yaltv d. the pru lice of ap
pearing in public without bet or I n
net came Into g> ni r.d vogue. Tic
morning proim-iui'li-H be.-anie niarkei
by the jire . hi i of nunier -us elegatitlj
arrang' i le ads of hair devoid of an)
covering, and on Sunday the sa?n<
fashion was follow- lin ehureh. T<
sue-h < xt. Nt wis th; 1- ..ming tic
ra/e. S.i)"- th- Vienna 7-i./-'•/</''. t! t
milliners grew alarmed, and < lam ri
at < -urt al- ut it, wliereupna an i
pl.Uiati ll of th eau -• of the, ;re
hath s excursion was issue 1 fr'in e'fil
eial sources and puidi-hi*l t . th • - -ia
w..rld. This put an end t . tic- new
fashion. hatmakiTs w<re happy onei
more, and fashionable circles wen
again at p .ice.
Thr \\ omrn o ■ ijurbrr.
The French Canadian people have
had the rare taste r In k to kis j
their surroundings in bar imny witl
their character. I imagine the cit)
would )• dull, or even distasteful, if it 1
drowsy and romantic spirit were re
placed ly a coarser life. The w omen
of Quebec are attractive by their up
pe.irane • of goal liea'.th. Few of
them are pretty, but many are g-- si
lo. king and pha*ant. You ineetthem
at almost any hour, returning fr- ni
mass or confession, dn-s .si always in
dark colors, and walking with a slow
gait that might he taken for a sign of
meditation. Their manners are unob
trusive; their voices are low and pleas
antly m ululated. The young women,
as you brush elos-- by th< in on the nar
row sidewalk, look up frankly, without
either leddness <>r shyness, and pass on
■ ;t ha direct and nmdest manner. You
sis- on ttie cathedral steps some ladies
of tlm French type, with high-bred
'•fwaturcs and a dajk complexion rich
with color. Their walk, though digni
fitsl, is graceful and free from haughti
ness; and theft manners suggest char
acters at once strong, sympathetic and
dignified. Hut the most beautiful ole
Jovts in Quebec are certainly the chil
dren—rosy, bright and cheruliic,—
Century Magazine.
Fahlnn Ntlfn.
New cloaks are very long.
Laces of all kinla are In fashion.
! , Hide green is the popular color for
ulster*.
Cloth Is tho correct fabric for
| pelisse*.
Totirnurcs are worn, hut not uni
| vorsallv.
Egyptian designs are introduced in
novelties.
New stockings show all of the high
j art color*.
Quilted satin line* more cloaks than
sntine or fur.
Feather thistle* nppear among new
bonnet trimmings.
There is an effort to revive the prin
ccasc style of dress.
Rich Ottoman velvets~arc classed
with autumn fabrics.
The latest shade of yellow take* the
name of "four o'clock."
Chine woolen gooil* and cheviot
mixtures will he much worn.
There 1* no definite changes in the
outline* of the dress this fall.
Heavy repped rlbbans take the name
of ottomAn, and * aioah.nsed.
| Fur and feather hands are used foi
: dress as well as cloak trimming,s.
< I < licnilie fringe in lozenge pendants
, make beautiful trimmings fur wraps.
I Long pile plush in a great 'measure
i takes tin- place of furs for cloak linings,
i 1 lie new English alpacas come in
i gray shades and black, with soft
i finish.
■ i Metallic threads, gold, silver and
steel, in tinted effects, crop out in new
1 braids.
Richelieu ribbed and plain spun
silk stockings are in favor for ordi
-1 nary use.
|, I'lain or braided cloth jackets and
jerseys will lie worn with plush and
' cheviot skirts.
Huff* and ru'-he* do not encircle
the neck, hut are brought down low
on the bosom in front, but the throat
■ i-. not left bare.
The .kirts of light walking or darie
| ing dresses are kept off the ground or
| floor by a puff of muslin inside the
hem instead of a halaveuse.
Handkerciiiefs with very minute
colored borders, arid th'' naine em
-1 roid'-red in a color to match that of
, the border, are very popular.
The new .-ilk embroideries on cash
mere have large figures and flowers,
wheels, dai-e-i, roost, cireh -. balls and
c inventionali/.i d flow r arid leaf do-
I sign-.
The fancy f r birds has extended
' < veu to mounting dn and the dis
i agreeable fa*hi"ti i- sc'-n of a black
raven perched on an English black
crape b -nnet.
A rifle-green velvet r sttune 1 r
dered with gray fur, with h -mall muff
and a smaller b >nri< t of the same vcj.
vet, edged with fur, i a i'aris <1 -gn
. for the coming w inter.
I'laqm of braid, made of row after
row - f -out :i'he wo :n<! ar undtoform
a -oli-i s; t tlire i' acr-ear
jd.i'-i-l all ar ami tie- arts of cloth
, dre . al i on the collar, cuffs and
. edge of the 1 ;-que.
Htiv tr jai-kel of il 'h. trimn.'.l
witli braid or with narrow -out a die,
are lb" wraps to l e worn I v young
-• irl- during tie aut mm Sb- rt'-rca/b-t
-' !•-- I*-" with ' military < 11 ar w ill
is- w>m a- parts of house dr< .
8m sth f.-lt hat and bonnets will
upplant to a i-irtain <\t-nt the
l" . '-r h< alw' ar. Some of the early
imp 'rtalions of hat-have a tall, br ad.
piarecr-wn of m ...th felt, with a
111 b rately w ide hritn of bc,iver. The
wide, scpiare crown promises to ls> a
feature of Iw.th hats and bonnets.
"li-' Vis t . pretty should be "hort
•. i tight. The t.iilleur-shujxsl waist
w rn with plain lingerie is the onh
style admitting a rather long sleeve.
The arm size must l>e cut with great
care, as it should sit well over the
shoulder and not fall ujmn the upper
part "f tlie arm.
A ( hlld Worth ller Weight in (Jolil.
A few years ago a steamer w as corn
ing from California. The cry of "Fire f
tire !" suddenly thrilled every heart.
Every effort was made to stay the
fiaini-s, but in vain. It so>.n became I
evident that the ship must In- lost. The
burning mas* was headed for nhore.
w hleh was not far off. A passenger
was sun buckling his licit of gold
around bis waist, ready to plunge into,
the waves. Just tic-n a pleading voire
arrested him:
" I'lease, sir. inn you swim?"
A child's blue eyes were piercing i
into his deepest soul as he looked 1
down upon her.
" Yi-s, child, I ran swim."
"Well, sir. won't you please savi ;
me?"
" I cannot do lioth," he thought. "1
must save the child and lose tin- gold. I
lint a moment ago I was- anxious for
t this whole ship's company; now I am
doubting whether I shall exchange hu
man life for paltry gold." Unbuckling
the belt he east it from him and said. ■
•' Yes, little girl, I will try to save you."
Stooping down he l>ade her clasp her
hands around his neck. " Thus, child;
not so tight as to choke me. There,
hang on now, anil I will try to make
land."
j The child Imvvcd herself on his broad
shoulders, and clung to her deliverer, j
With a heart thrice strengthened and
an arm thrice nerved, he struck out fot
shore. Wave after wave washed over
them. Still the hrave man held out,
and the dear child on, until a mighty
mountain billow swept the sweet i
treasure from Ids embrace, and east
him senseless on the bleak rocks. Kind
hands ministered to him. Recovering
his consciousness, the form of the deal
child met his earnest gaze, liending
i over hint with more than angel minis
trations, and bltwdDg hita with mute
but eloquent benedictions.
■■
The man who has the weaker side
•if an argument always makes the moat
noise. If you wont to hear a pig
squeal, get hiui penned in a corner.
Wt
HcserTe.
T,
t Behind u little *ilkn mesh of tare,
That hide* and yet reveal*, I aee her fare.
The filmy wb doth not obrtruet my view;
I With softened uracil her t>eauty ahineth
through—-
| Eyes Isrge and luminous, nrt lip* aglow,
1 Fair waring trowe* on a brow of niiow:
1 So many charms the little net reveal ■,
f'.an there la? one, I wonder, it conceal/.?
I H<>, wondering oft, a longing doth a? ail
My very eoul to tear away the veil,
jKo foolish! Well I know her radiant face
, I* ull the lovelier for that hit of lace.
it.
ih hind n winning, (milling veil of pride,
Intangible yet real, her heart doth hide.
The militia veil no eingle gr re dutli n.ar
lier truth and love nhine through, yet doth
it bar
,M> tooMud.iciouiejev. Throughn eny a day
I fain would tar tin torturing thing aw ay
And see her miol. I will be win*. Who
know*?
Tie bud had bounty that the oj*n rr e
Hath |/,'l for evermore; there i no r -otn
For *wa <.t oon> tore o'er a roe in bloom.
I'' rha| - I love la • more for that sweet I ri !'■
Behind whoso strength her loving hoArt doth
hide.
< irliittn 1 rrtj, m Our
IT M.KN I I'A It AfiICA I'llS.
flu imr.jr jar, wiio < omprtnics him
•elf d..(.,s pot always have the bed of
company.
The fn;in who •• read..-< 1 the gr and
by the h!Mlfltt font.'," -• j hi, t' t
|at the i ■it of a lii i;i!"< ktf .
Women are never ■ ;.,r I,find that
they caii t see tin- make-up ■ ' a new
Iron net passing along liftyfeet away.
It i* s'at-il that they hav • < mtinilg-nt
two fc< t I dig in K'-ntueky, 1 .t they <lo
noj say how long they have the colic.
Ay. ing lady attending l,dl, and
I partial should always secure a
■ hajwTofi until ;li .•a: . t. t ..1! ; U (
male Chap her own.
" I wouldn'tmarry the bcrt man living," !,c
said.
And *l.e kept her vow from the find;
Bat ' e did not hv> to die an old maiJ,
i r .i-i. rind <: •• of ti, vorl.
An. di d matter: An oil lady,
hearing that .1- hn Itr.g't < nt ■ ; ,plav I
visiting t his country, h>] 1 tu.it h<
v, ildn't bring h;- "disease" witl
him.
Tl e name "fa mwbmk is •• B.vh<-
lors arid Butterflies," It is nt until
tie ha'h'l rs got married and g" to
le -iseko. ping ti it they find out how
tile butter lie
Lightning struck a Nevada man the
other day while lie wis sw< arilig. It
would, however, take. a mighty smart
stroke of lightning to hit a Nevada
man when In i* not sw< iringe
t>ail Hamilton says a woman may
nave be, n originally one step in ad
vance of man in evil doing, hut he
v. ry .von caught up with her. never
again to la)sir under a similar disad
\ ant age.
Volatile friend—-" Halb! What's
the matter, old man? Toothache?
Tut-t-t-t! Have it out! If it was
mine I'd have—" Sufferer—"lf it
was yours! Yes, ao would I!" (Exit
groaning.)
Alt old La r heb>r leaving his l>oarding-
Jiouse for a week's journey, aft.r taking
j leave of his landlady. sti-]ijH*l up t > a
salt mackerel on the table, shook him
by the tail, and said : " Uod-l>ye, old
fellow. I will sis- you wlien I return."
"Yea/* he said. "I'll have the
plumber come to the house to-lay. Not
that there's any trouble with the drain
j age. but our cook is sort of discontented
and we don't w ant her to leave, and
mayle being courted for four hours
will make her less restless."
Madame B. is a charming person, but
age will arrive, and she was recently
obliged to use glasses, fine day a
visitor surprised her. " You see," said
she, "that I have ha.) to come to it and
use glas-es." "Exactly," replied the
gallant gentleman, " a spark defender."
" The illuminated buoy is a wonder
ful invention," read old Mrs. Pinaphor
in Iter daily paper. " Well." she ol
served, "1 should Wiiuk hs-was. AiKl
it is an exesdlent We*, too. for if the
boy is illuminated his mother will
have less trouble finding him alter
dark." * > f
A Live Salamander.
A sti a;per from the drient limught
to San Francisco a remarkable curb *tt v
in the shape of a live salamander,
which is mw confined in a large
wooden trough and daily supplied with
fresh water and live Ah at the Palace
lintel. The salamander comes from
Japan, and was captured fa a fresh
water lake in the mountain*. The
specimen is three and a half feet in
length, has four feet and an extensive
tail, the head being broad and flat and
shaped like a heart, and the eyes so
small as to be hardly discernible. The
mouth is not unlike that of the croco
dile, and the novel guest at the hotel is
known to be at least seven years old.
It is dark brown in color, the epider
mis being covered with excrescences,
which are watery glands, secreting an
acrid, viscid fluid. *