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VOL. X. NO. 3G.
TIONESTA, PA., DEC. 12, 1877.
$2 PER ANNUM.
L CJIU
I Would Not, If I Could !
I wou'd not dig my past
Up from its grave of wi akneirn and regret ;
Up from its hope which glimmered but to
net,
Its dreams that could not last.
Yet I can look beforo,
And profit by the lesson sadly learned j
Ah children, playing with the ilro, are biu-ncd,
And tempt its glow no more.
' I would not, if I could,
Live o'erarain thin dark, uncertain life
This slipping backward in this daily stiife
Of reaching after good.
And yot I can know how weak
Are all below, and ho iiweot charity
Will cling and glow about each form I nee,
And thus to niu will Rpeak :
I would not open out
The half healed wounds of other years, long
fleel;
Twcre better they were numbered with the
dead ;
Better than fear or doubt.
Yet I can truly say,
Iet the dead paid bury its dead. We go
Ho swiftly onward to life's sunset glow
And then, there Is no day !
Life in too short to wants
Iu vain replniugs or In weak regrets t
The strongest heart endures and never frets
O'er Joys it may not taste.
And he who can go on
Bravely ami firmly iu the allytted way,
Cuiiing now strength with every darkened ray,
Khali surely reach the dawn.
And so I would not lift
V from the grave tho shadows of my past ;
The clouds that all my ky once overcast
Into tho night may drift. '
Tor there's enough to fill
Each hour and moment of the days to oome j
Then wherefore woo the shadows to pur home
The vailevs to our hill ?
SECOND THOUGHT.
. " I m ist have it, Charles," said the
haudsoino little wite of Mr. Whitman.
" So don't put on tlint sober face."
" Did I put on a Bobcr face?" asked
the hnsbnud, with un attemptto Bmili
thut was Mivihing but a success.
' Yes, sober as a man on trial for Lis
life. Why, it's as long its the moral law.
Thero, dear, clcur it up, nnd look us
if . yo i hai at least one friend in the
world. Want money lovers you men
are I"
"Flow much will it cost?" inquired
Mr. Whitman. There was another effort
to look cheerful amd acquiescent.
" About forty dollars," was answered,
with just a little faltering in the lady's
voice, for alio knew the mm would
sound extravagant.
"Forty dollars I Why, Ada, do you
...think I am made of money?' Mr.
Whitman's countenance underwent a re
markable change of expression.
"I declare, Charles," said his wife, a
little impatiently, "you look at me as if
I were au object of fear instead of affec
tion. I don't think this is kind of you.
I've only had three silk dresses since we
were married, while Amy Blight has had
six or seven during tho same period,
and every one of hers cost more than
mine. I know you think me extrava
gant, but I wish you had a wre like
some women I could name. I rather
thiuk you'd find out tho difference be
fore long. "
" There, there, pet, don't talk to me
after this fashion I I'll bring you the
money at dinner time ; that is, if "
" No ' ifs ' nor buts,' if you please.
The sentence is complete without them.
Thank you, dear 1 I'll go this after
noon a,nd buy the silk. So don't fail to
briug the money. I was in at Silkskins
yesterday, and saw one of the sweetest
patterns I ever laid my eyes on. Just
suits my style and complexion. I shall
be inconsolable if it's gone. You won't
disappoint me?"
And Mrs. Whitman laid her soft,
white hand on the arm of her husband,
andjtilel with sweet persuasion in his
, face.
" Oh, no. You shall have the money,"
said Mr. Whitman, turning from his
wife, as she thought, a little abrnbtly,
and hurrying from her presence. In his
precipitation, he had forgotten the usual
parting kiss.
' That's the way it is always!" said
' Mrs. Whitman, her wnole manner chang
ing, as the sound of the closing street
doors came jarring upon her ears. " Just
say money to Charles, and at one there
is a cloud in the sky.'-L
She Bat down pouting and half angry.
"Forty dollars for a new dress 1"
mentally ejaculated the husband of vain,
pretty, thoughtless Mrs. Whitman, as ho
shut the dixir after him. " I promised
to settle, Thompson's coul bill to-day
thirty-three dollars but don't know
where the money iu to come from. The
coal is burnt up, and more must be or
dered. Oh, dear ! I'm' discouraged.
Every year I full behindhand. This
wiuter I did hope to get a little in ad
vance, but if forty-dollar silk dresses
are in order, there's an end to that de
voutly to be wished-for circumstance.
Debt, debt ! How I have always shrunk
from it : but steadily, now, it is closing
its Briaeritm arms around me, and my
restricted chest labors iu respiration.
Oh, if I could but disentangle myself
now, while I have the strength of early
manhood, and the bonds that hold me
are weak. If Ada could see as I see if
I onld only make her understand my
position ritfhtlv. Alas I that is hopeless,
1 fear."
And Mr. Whitman hurried his steps,
because his heart beat quicker and his
thought was unduly excited.
Not a long time after Mr. Whitman
left his house, tho postman delivered a
letter to his address. His wife exatuinel
the writing on tho envelope, which whs
in a bold, masculine hand, and finid to
herself, as she did so: "I wonder who
this can be from ?"
Something more than a curiosity
moved her. Thero intruded on her
mind a vague feeling of disquiet, as if
the missive bore unpleasant news for
her husband. The stump showed it to
be a city letter. A few timeB, of late,
such letters had come to his address,
and she had noticed that he had read
them hurriedly, thrust them without re
mark into his pocket, and become silent
and sober-faced.
MrB, Whitman turned the letter over
and over again in her hand, in a thought
ful way, and as she did bo, the image of
her husband, sober-faced and silent as
he had become for the most of the time,
of lute, presented himself with unusual
vividness. Sympathy Btole into her
heart.
" Poor Charles !" Bhe said, as tho
feeling iucreased ; " I'm afraid some
thing is going wrong with him."
Placing the letter on the niantel-piece,
where he could Bee it when he came in,
Mrs. Whitman entered upon Borne house
bold duties
; but a strange impression, '
ight, lay upon her heart a ,
as of a wei
sense of impending evil a vague,
troubled disturbance of her usual in
ward self-satisfaction.
If the thought of Mrs. Whitman re
curred, as was natural, to the elegant
silk dress bf which ehe was to become
the owner on that day, she did not
feed the proud satistactiou her vain
heart experienced a little while before.
Something of its beauty had faded.
" If I only knew what that letter con
tained," Bhe said, half an hour after it
had come in, her mind still feeling the
pressure which had come down upon it
so strangely, as it Beemed to her.
bhe went to the mantel-piece, took up
the letter, and examined the superscrip
tion. It gave her no light. Steadily it
kept growing upon her that its contenis
were of a nature to trouble her hnsbund.
" He's been a little mysterious of
late," she said to herself. This idea af
fected her very unpleasantly. " Ho
ijrowB more silent and reserved," she
added, as thought, under a Kind of
.'everish excitement, became active in a
uew direction. "More indrawn, as it
were, and less interested in what goes
ou around him. Ilia coldness chills me
at times, and his irritation hurts me."
She drew a long, deep sigh. Then,
with un almost startling vividness, came
before her mind, in contrast, her tender,
loving, cheerful husband of three years
before, and her quiet, sober-faced hus
band of to-day.
"Something has gone wrong with
him," she said aloud, as feeling grew
'stroi ger. " What can it bo ?"
The letter was in her hand.
" This may give me light. " And with
careful ringers she opened the envelope,
not breaking the paper, so that she
could seal it again if she desired so to
do. There was a bill for sixty dollars,
and a communication from the person
sending the bill. He was a jeweler.
"If this is not settled at once," he
wrote, " I shall put the account in suit.
It has been standing for over a year,
and I am tired of getting excuses instead
of my money."
The bill was for a lady's watch, which
Mrs. Whitman had alnicjjt compelled her
husband to purchase.
" Not paid for ! Is it possible ?" ex
claimed the little woman, in blank as
tonishment, while the blood mounted
to her forehead.
Then she sat down to think. Light
began to come into her mind. As she
sat thus thinking, a second letter came
i'i for her husband from the postman.
S le opened it without hesitation.
Another bill and another dunning letter!
" Not paid ! Is it possible ?"' She re
peated the ejaculation. It was a bill of
twentyrfive dollars for gaiters and slip
pers, which had been standing for three
or four months.
" This will never do !" said the awak
ening wife " never no, never 1" Ami
she thrust the two letters into her pocket
in a resolute way. From that hour until
the return of her husband at dinner time,
Mrs. Whitman did an unusual amount
of thinking, fcr her little brain. She
saw, the moment he entered, that tho
morning cloud had not passed from his
brow.
Here is the money for that new
dress, " he said, taking a small roll of
bills from his vest pocket, and handing
them to Ada, as he came in. He did
not kiss her, nor smile in the old bright
way. But his voice was calm, if not
cheerful. A kiss and a smile would have
been more precious to the youag wife
than a hundred Bilk dresses. She took
the money, saying :
" Thank you, dear ! It is kind of yon
to regard my wishes."
Something iu Ada's voice and manner
caused Mr. Whitman to lift his eyes,
with a look of inquiry, to her face. But
she turned aside, so that he could not
read its expression.
He was graver and more silent than
usual, and ate with scarcely au appear
ance of appetite.
"Come home early, dear," said Mrs.
Whitman, as she walked to the door with
her husband, after dinner.
" Are you impatient to have me admire
your new silk dress V he replied, wit!i u
faint effort to smile.
'Yes. It will be something splen
did," she answered.
Ho turned off from her quickly, and
U-l't the house. A few moments she
stood, with a thoughtful face, her mind
indrawn, and her whole manner com
pletely changed. Then she went to her
room, and commenced dressing to go out.
Two hours later, and we find her in a
jewelry store.
" Can I. eay a word to you ?" She ad
dressed herself to the owner of the storo,
who knew hor very well.
"Certainly" he replied, aud they
moved to the lower end of the long show
cases. Mrs. Whitman drew from her pocket
a lady's watch and chain, aud laying
them on the show-case, said, at the same
time holding out the bill she had taken
from the envelope addressed to her hus
band :
" I caunot afford to weor this "watch ;
my husband's circumstances are too
limited. I tell you so frankly. It should
never have been purchased : but a too
indulgent husband yielded to the impor
tunnies of a foolish young wife. 1 Bny
this to tuke blame from him. Now, sir,
meet the case, if you can do bo in fair
ness to yourself. Take back the watch,
and say how much I shall pay you be
sides.
The jeweler dropped his eyes to think,
The case took him a little by surprise,
He stood for nearly a minute ; then
taking the bill and watch, he said
" Wait a moment," and went to a desk
near bv.
" Will that do ?" Tfe had come forward
ngain aua ow presented her with the
receipted bill. His face wore a pleased
expression.
" How much shall I pay you?" asked
Mrs. Whitman, drawing out her pocket-
booK.
"Nothing. The watch is not de
faced."
" You have done a kind act, sir," said
Mrs. Whitmnn, with feeling trembling
along her voice. "I hope you will not
think unfavorably of my husband. It's
no fault of his that the bill has not been
paid. Good-morning, sir."
Mrs. Whitman drew her veil over her
face, aud went, with light steps and i
light heart, from the Btore. The pleas
uro she had experienced ou receiving
her watch was not to be compared with
that now felt iu parting with it. Prom
the jeweler's she went to the boot
maker's and paid tho bill of twenty-five
dollars; from thence to the milliner's,
and settled fofher last bonnet.
"I know you're dying to see my new
dress," said Mrs. Whitman, gaily, as
she drew her arm within that of her hus
band, on his appearance that evening.
" Come over to our bedroom, and let me
show it. Come along! Don't hang
back, Charles, as if yon were afraid."
Charles Whitman went with his wife
passively, looking nioie like a man on
his way to receive sentence, than in ex
pectation of a pleasant sight. His
thoughts were bitter.
"Shall my Ada become lost to me ?"
he said in his heart "lost to me in a
world of folly, fashion and extrava
gance ?"
"Sit down, Charles." She led him
to a large, cushioned chair. Her man
ner had undergone a change. The
brightness of her countenance had do
parted. She took something, iu a hur
ried way, from a drawer, and catching
up a footstool, placed it on tho floor
near him, and sitting down, leaned upon
him", and looked tenderly and lovingly
into hij face. Then she handed him the
jeweler's bill.
"It is receipted, yon see." Her
voice fluttered a little.
"Ada! how is this? What does it
mean ?" He flushed and grew eager.
" I returned the watch, aud Mr.
K receipted the bill. I would have
paid for damage, but he said it
was uninjured, and asked nothing."
"Oh, Ada!"
" Aud this is receipted also; and this;"
handing him the other bills which she
hail paid. " And now, dear," she added
quickly, "how do you like my dress?
Isn't it beautiful ?"
We leave the explanations and scene
that followed to the reader's imagina
tion. If any fair lady, however, who,
like Ada, has been drawing too heavily
upon her husband's slender income, for
silks and jewels, is at a loss to realize
the scene, let her try Ada's experiment
False Hair.
False hair, for ladies' wear, being re
cognized as a necessity of modern social
existence, the want must be somehow
supplied. But live hair, hair bought,
to use the technical phrase, "on foot "
the hair of girls and women bribed to
submit their locks to the shears grows
annually scarcer and dearer. When the
niodestdemand for tresses was influenced
by a few elderly dames iu need of wigs,
the supply was easily secured by agents
who bargained with the peasant maids of
Brittany aud Auvergne. Paris alone
would now consume all, and more than
all, of the available capillary crop in
France, and Marseilles, the present cen
tre of the hair trade, deals with Spain,
the East, and especially the two Sicilies,
for the forty tons of dark hair which she
annually makes up into 05,000 chignons.
" Dead hair " has something of a sinis
ter, sepulchral sound; but as without it
the cheap curls, fronts, and chignons
could not be lnudo at the price, it may
be comfortable to know that the original
owners of the rawmateriul are, as likely
as not, alive and well. Bag-pickers value
no unconsidered waif and stray of tho
street, bhort of gold ring or silver spoon,
so high as the clotted combings of female
hair, soon to be washed with brau and
potash, carded, sifted, classed, aud
sorted. There are, commereii 1 y, seveu
colors of hair and three degrees of
length. Much dead hair enters into the
cheaper of the 350,000 "pieces" annu
ally made in France. The dearest
chignon costs ubout $1.25 in England,
tho cheapest a fiftieth part of that
amount. Eugluud is tho bebt customer,
and clone upon her heels comes America.
One Bride' Outfit.
Speaking of the marriage of a daugh
ter of William II. Vanderbilt to Mr.
Twombley, of Boston, a New York poper
says that the bride s outfit is undoubted
ly the most elaborate and costly one
ever given to au American bride.
Ihe wedding dress is of white satin
brocade, trimmed with three kinds of
lace round point, point Venice, and np
pliqne with pearl trimmings and orange
blossoms. It is in tho Princesso style,
with the neck cut low a la Pompadour,
anu me dosoui nnea wnn mce ncuu ami
pearl trimmings. The corsage is short,
and finished with a belt at the waist.
The front of the dress is trimmed with
festoons of lace, supported by three folds
of bp tin drapery, coming to the front
and caught up with bouquets of orange
blossoms. The pattern of the lace is
exquisite. Each festoon is a quarter of
a yard deep, and bears a beautifully in
terwoven design in flowers representing
roses, lilies and baskets overflowing with
floral treasures of all sorts. Each alternate
festoon is of point Venice and point ap
plique, and the intermediate ones are of
round point and point Venice. The lace
is the finest that the ateliers of the Paris
modate could furnish, and eclipses
anything heretofore Been in this country.
Tho bottom of the skirt in front is
trimmed with sectional shirrings of white
satin, filled in between with bouquets of
orange blossoms. At the aides the trim
mine is deeiv nnd evown ffrarliiflllv nar.
rower toward the front. An elegant
court train of white satin brocade extends
three and a half yards back from the
body of the dress. The brocade runs
into points nt the bottom, with several
rows of white Batin pelisses laid under
the points, making a very stylish ettect,
A choice trimming of round point, point
applique, and point Venice embellishes
the train, which is also adorned with
pearl trimmings of great beauty. Tho
sleeves are entirely of lace, set off witli
orange blossoms. The cost of the whole
dress is known to be greater than that of
Nellie Grant's, or of the one worn By
Miss Lizzie Tweed at her wedding, and
which represented over 5,000, exclusive
of diamonds.
Among the other elegant costumes of
tho trousseau are the following r A biu
phur-colored Bilk, composed of sulphur
and white brocade. The waist is cut a la
Pompadour iu points, with Valenciennes
and pearl trimmings laid under. Other
portions of the trimming are of Valen
ciennes lace, with chenille. There nre
two pairs of sleeves, one of Valenciennes
aud the other of white chenille net, in
meshes one-quarter of an inch square,
euch corner being caught up with a
pearl bead. This is a costume of rare
beauty.
A magnificent black silk, trimmed with
chenille lace and amber beads, very rich.
A maroon velvet 6hirred on a silk
foundation, trimmed with coke feathers
of the same color as the velvet There
is on almost endless variety of summer,
reception, evening,' traveling and.morn
iug dresses, all of the costliest and most
elaborate description, and cut and trim
med in the highest style of the dress
makers' art.
Cobbett's Wooing.
A story which, from its inherent
simplicity and natural pathos, will be
ever fresh, is the true tale which tells
how, close upon eighty years ago, a cer
tain sergeant in an English regiment of
foot, commanded by Lord Edward Fitz
gerald, and stationed in British North
America, happened to pass one wintry
morning, just after dawn, the door of
the cottage where dwelt a non-commissioned
officer of artillery. Standing in
front of the hut was a very young Eng
lish lass, the artilleryman's daughter,
halo, hearty and pretty, aud with her
sleeves turued up to the elbows. Early
as was the hour and bleak the weather,
she was scrubbing a wash-tub as though
for dear life. " That's the girl for my
money," quoth the sergeant, glancing
obs3rvantly at her over his stiff black
leather stock; and away he plodded to
the orderly room. Soon afterward he
began, in simple, honest, straightforward
fashion, to court tho pretty maid of the
washing-tub. He found favor in her
eyes; but in a short time the battery t-j
which her father belonged was ordered
home, her sweetheart's regiment remain
ing in the colony. Now, tho sergeant
was a very hard-headed, self-reliant,
frugal man, and when he bade his lovo
good-bye, he gave her a bag full of
golden guineas, the fruit of his long ami
painful savings, and told her to expend
as much of the money as was needful for
her comfortable maintenanae, and to
take ca,re of the rest, until, in two years'
time, he returned, Ood willing, to claim
her as his wife. And in two years he
did come bock, being honorably dis
charged from the regiment, in v hich ho
had risen to the raijc of sergeant-major.
He found his sweetheart at Woolwich,
looking as young as ever and prettier
than ever ; and, with .joy and honest
pride, she haudod to him intact the bag
of guineas, and in addition a round little
sum of her own savings; for during the
two years of his absence she, disdaining
to live iu idleuess on his bounty, had
slave d as a domestic servant. She was
emphatically the girl for the ex-sergeant's
money; so they were married, aud lived
long and happily together, and had many
children. Only a few days since tho
daughter of the notable housewife who
scrubbed the washing-tub and saved tho
guineas for her true love's sake died iu
Bromptou-crescent, London, at the ad
vanced age of eighty-two. Her father,
the ex-sergeant of Lord Edward's regi
ment, has been dead there four-and-forty
years. Ho was the famous William Cob
bt tt, formerly editor of the J'oliticol
Jiffinter, ami member of parliament for
Oldham.
tOUKKNINU LONGEVITY.
Tar Chasm a ( hIM Ta Yrn OU Ha
f Attaining Old Aae Ialrrrtli
Tablr.
Our modern life insurance t ahh n con
tain very oct iuate approximation, to tin-
average ago attained by cmlized man
kind, and being founded upon tlu b s4
attainable statistical information, ran 1
relied upon. It would aptear that the
chances of the child who reaches the age
of ten years in fair health for arriving nt
the "three-score-and-ten," designated
by the psalmist as the reasonable limit
of life, are four out of ten ; that is to
soy, there are 40,000 men and women
alive at seventy years of age out of every
100,000 who reach the age of tea yeors.
Only one in that 100,000 niny rxpoct,
hwever, to round out n foil century,
although ten may live to Bee ninety-five
and 100 up to about ninety-three.
One man in every 100 reaction the age
of ninety. No less than 50,000 attain
sixty-five, while more than 25,000
will pass their seventy-nfth year. At
eighty-three there are but 10,000 left,
nine out of every ten having dropped
out of the ranks. Fully 75,000 souls
alive at ten years of age will see forty-
four.
The fewest deaths occur between the
ages of twenty five and twenty-eight in
clusive, at which period men and
women should be in the very prime of
their lives. Of the hundred thousand,
750 will die the first year ; then the an
nual number of deaths gradually do
elines to 718 between the ages of twenty
five and twenty-eight, after which they
again increase until at fifty-one they
reach 1,000 per annum; at sixty they
number over 1,500, at sixty-six' more'
than 2,000, and between tiie ages of
seventy-three and seventy-four they
reach their maximum at 2,500 each year.
At seventy-five, there being but 20,(X0
of the original hundred, thousand re
maining altogether, they commence to
decline again. At eighty the number of
deaths annually is about 2,000; at
eighty-seven it is less than a thousand.
For the benefit of those curious iu
such matters, the following tablo may be
of interest, tho estimates being based
upon 100,000 children, of either sex,
who have reached the age of ten years :
D0.000 will live to attain the age of 21
MO.OOO will live to attain the age of ;i7
70,000 will live to attain the ago of fill
60,000 will live to attain the ago of t
50,(100 will live to attain tho ane of lii
40,000 will livo to attain the ago of 70
;W,(iu0 will live to attain the ago of,...
20.000 wiil live to attain tho Ri;e of ... .
10,000 will live to attain tho age of....
6,000 will live to attaiu the aye of . . . .
2,0(10 will live to attaiu the ai;e of . . . .
l,r00 will live to attain the ago of. . . .
Mil) will live to attain the ago of . , . .
850 will live to attaiu the age of ... .
100 will live to attain the ago of . . . .
25 wi 1 live to atta n the ago of . . . .
10 will live to attain the ate of....
1 will live to attain the age of 1"0
The deaths average less than one per
cent, per anuum of the whole number
up to tne ago or ntty-one, aituougu
amounting to upwards of ten per cent,
of the number surviving after the ago
of forty-one. Of course, thenceforward
the annual percentage of deaths increases
very rapidly uutil at ninety-three it
amounts to nearly the entire number of
survivor. To sum up, modern statistics
would divide tho averago hum in life
into three portions of twenty-tivo years
each, which may bs eutitlod youth, ma
turity aud old age. New Haven Jie;
titer. A Great Scientific Problem Solved.
Harlem was much excited last winter
over a young colored woman who de
clared that she had snakes in her
stomach. To the many reporters and
physicians who visited her, she gave
garrulous explanations of hor sufferings;
she felt the stirrings of a reptile within
her, aud at times heard terrible rum
bling and hissing sounds. The myster
ious tenuut was fastidious in its tastes
and protested strongly against certain
articles of food. Several physicians
made au examination of the woman, but
nothing could be learned save that she
was the victim of great internal strife.
Constant anxiety at last wore out her
health, and she died at her home, No.
4:J3 One Hundred aud Twentieth street,
yesterday moruiug. At five r. M. , Coro
ner Woltmau and Deputy Coroner Cush
niau held a post mortem examination.
As the medical men were grouped about
the corpse, said Dr. Ddinarest solemnly:
"One of the greatest scientific problems
is about to bo solved." The moment
was big with expectation. The skeptics,
however, triumphed. No trace of snake
or animal was found in the stomuch. The
woman's Bufferings had been caused by
imagination and indigestion ! Xcio York
Tribune.
A French Bride's .Mansion.
! A Paris letter says: A fine sense of the
luxury that at present prevails in the
I furnishings of expensive Paris houses
I may be gained from the description of a
! few rtKims in the mansion inhabited by
a newly-married Marquise. The bod
room is draped iu rose-colored velvet of
the most costly aud exquisite texture, and
the furniture is covered with the ma
terial; the draperies are relieved by ex
ceedingly fine silver chiselling ; the
panels, which are docokuled in tho love
liest manner, are also divided by silver
lines; the inner bed-curtains ore of
Venetian point -lace, aud the outer ones
of rose-colored satiu, with tho armoriul
bearing in silver. Iu an angle of this
charming boudoir there is u small
reliquary and a golden lamp constantly
burning before it, Busman fahhiou.
Another room, a kind of private parlor,
nour by, is hung with whito poult des
sire, and here also are floods of expensive
lace. The whole must have eost the i.
come for a ye:ir of 5,000 Purls workmen.
Items of Interest.
There are now 2,205 letter carriers em-
t loved iu the free delivery servico of the
'nited Stutes.
The only surviving male relative of
Washington, bearing his name, is a
Washington correspondent.
"A fellow of infinite chest," is the
drummer. Turner Fall Reporter.
He in also an example of in Quite cheek.
Au Ohio Granger, on being asked by
tho court if ho had an incumbrance on
his farm, replied: "Yes, your llonor,
my wife."
When the industrious farmer makes
souse out of a pig's ears and ham out of
his hind legs, he is literally making both
ends meet.
The first printer ever couflued in the
Jeffersonville, Ind., penitentiary, has
just been committed for life. His name
ii George Woods. .--.v.
In a weddiDg iu Athol, Mass., the
f;room was seventy-six years old, aud
lad been previously married four times.
The bride was seventeen.
Rancid butter is liked in Iceland, and
a commissiou of Icelanders are in thin
country to establish au agency for for-
.iraiug me article in large quauuiien. .
Nevada has a new law authorizing the
public whipping of wife beaters. A
whipping post lias been ceremoniously
placed in front of the Court Honso iu
Austin.
Dick Bemis. long a drunkard, signed
the total abstinence pledgo in Frankfort,
Ky. "My red nose has been snatched
like a brand from the burning," he said
in a recent speech.
Iu the sentence 'John strikes '
William,' " remarked a school teacher,
"what is the object of ' strikes
1 Higher woges and less work," prompt-'
ly replied the intelligent youth.
Did you steal the complaiuant's
coat ?" asked the magistrate of a seedy
individual who was arraigned before
him. " I decline to gratify the morbid
curiosity of the public by answering
that question, rcHpomleu the seeay
individual with a scornful glonce at the
reporter.
A farmer lost a portion of his crop of
potatoes, a thief having dug them and
takeu them away in tho night. He put
up a tent iu the field, and remarked
that tho thief would think ho wus watch-
iug the crop. But the tent did not
prove a goml guard, for the next time
tho thief came lie stole the tent.
Boston has spent within the year'
120, 000 iu sweeping and cleaning the
streets, a work that employs eighty-six
men, fifty horses, twenty-six wagons,
six water carts and ton sweepiug ma
chines. During the warm weather the
principal thoroughfares are swept regu
larly every morning, and tho other
streets twice a week.
i . 1
A Tattooed Ambassador.
M. Mamea, secretary of state of the
island of Samoa, recently arrived iu San.
Francisco on his way to Washington as
ambassador for his conntry. His ap
pearance is described by a reporter,
who says. Mr. Mamea is a muguificent
specimen of physicul manhood, straight
as au arrow, aud about six feet six iuches
in hight. A massive head, surrounded
by a shock of woolly hair, sits gracefully
upon a pair of broad shoulders. He
has a pleasant and smiling face, beam
ing with intelligence and adorned with a
6raall coarse mustache of tho darkest
hue. ' He c inverses fluently iu English
iu Boft dulcet tones, aud hns a thorough
knowledge of the events of the day. On
the vessel, up to the time of his lauding
ou our shores, he clung to the native
aud primitive garb of his island home.
A colorless shirt descending to the waist,
with a primitive cloth attachment, vere '
the only articles of dress save an extra
breast-pin or two, with which he clothed,
his collossol form while journeying
across the ocean. This gorb, however,' -has
been discarded for a black broad
cloth Biiit that sets of his stalwart frame
and is iu tine contrast with his bronze
countenance. His body, from the waist
t the knees, is a gem of the tatt xing
art. It is completer- covered with the
distinctive signs and figures common to
the chiefs and members of tho royul
family in tho Navigator islands. He is
a devout Christian, being a convert, and -a
Bible is his constant companion. It
is, he says, the uuanimous wish of the
natives that this country will guarantee
soma protection to them, so. that the in
creasing an.l profitable trade between
Samoa and Europe may bo turned this
way.
Short Shrift fn Fraute.
In France the unfortunate criminals
under sentence of death never know the
time fixed for their execution until the
moment arrives ; indeed, us a prisoner
capitally eoudi mned nsually appeals us
a mutter of course to the (-our de Cassa
tion agaiust his Hentenee, they must
often be uncertain tu the Ust bet her
the sentence will be curried out. Th
order for the execution h only etit to
the prison the evening Iwforoit it tat"
place, and the criminul is not infoiuied
of it till the fatal moruiug arrives. At
the time of our visit to this prison,
correspondent writes, there happened to
be two unfortunate inmates of tho con
deroued cells. The next evening but
one an ordr came down from the minis
try of tho interior respiting tho one uu l
directing the execution of the other. At
daybreak on tho following morning tl
wretched man wus roused from '.
and informed that hi- appeal had '
rejected, aud he must prepare for
aud in eighteen minutes, as w . v
formed, from the nioiaer.t
liis head had f' (i brtn '
tin' x