hc forest gqmMtam. IN ITSMSltEl) KVKKY Vl;l)N!:St)AV, FIT a, in xrrj2rjz:. Timor; in robinson & bohner'b boildino r.LIJ STREET, TIONE3TA, PA, TERMS, ft.M A YEAR. No Subscription received for a shorter "i iinl thrm throe months, '"rrospondonoo solicited tiom nil pnrt "I tlic country. No notice will lio taken of anonymous coninmniuUions. Rates of Advertising. On Hquare (I Inch,) oun Insertion ? OneHquare " one month - - ' OneHquaro " three month - , ce OneHquaro " one your I0( Two Squares, one year - 1ft 'o Quarter Col. so r Half " " 5 One " " - - . . inn vr Iegal notice at established rate. Marriage and death notice, gratis. All bills for yearly advertisement r.!. lected quarterly. Temporary drrt(. ment mnt le jxild for in advance. Job work, Cnh on Delivery. VOL. XIII. NO. 3. TIONESTA, PA., APEIL 7, 1880. $1,50 Per Annum. The Rattle or the Bones. How many bones in the human face T Foortoen, when they're all in place. How mnny bones In the human head ? , Kiglit, my child, as I've olten said. . How many bones in the human eurT Throe in each, and they help to hear. How many hones in the human spine T Twenty-Biz, like a climbing vine. How many bones in the human cheHtT Twenty-lour ribs, and two of the rest. How many bones theshouldeis bind? Two Jn ohoU one bolore, one bohind. How ninny bones in the human arm T In each arm one; two in each forearm. How n.Tuiy hones in tlio human wrist ? Eight in ach, if none are laisned. How many hones in the palm of the hand T Five in mch. with mnny ahum!. How tunny hones in the Angers ten T Twont y-eifcht, and by joints they bend. How mnny bones in the human hip T One in eiich like a diali they dip. How many bones in the human thigh ? One lii each, and daop they lie. ' "V How many bones jn the human knees? One in each, the kneepan, please. , How many bones in the leg Irom the knee T Two iu oaoh we can plainly see. How mary bones in the ankle strong T . ei i .... i . coven in tniuu, uui nuquire long. How many bones in the ball of the foot ? ' Five iu eaoh, as the palms were put. How many bones in the toes half a score 1 Twenty-uiht, and there are no more. m And now, altogether, these many bone tlx, And they count in the body, two hundred and six. And then we have, iu the human mouth Ot upper and under, thirty-two teeth. And now and then have a bone I should think, That tonus on a joint or to fill up a chink. A scKfimolJ bjr.e or a wonnian we call, An aow wo may re-t lor we've told them a'l. Jndiancpoli Sentinel. An Unexpected Meeting. .. i, ii '. it was a small, one-story frame struc ture, presenting some of the character istics of a cabin and cottage, built only a little way in from Die road, and ap proached from it by a narrow wooden bridge, undef which meandered, in temperate seasons, a geptle stream, but which, in the .fervid vigw of the sum mer and the rigor of the winter, was dry mid silent. Away down in a meadow behind this little sentry-box was a large farmhouse, with it colony ot smaller buildings springing up about it, and back of those waa wood, rising precipitously! to the brow of a protecting hill. In summer-time this homestead of Farmer Gilman was a smiling, shady place to look upon, as was, indeed, all tho country in which nestled the ham lot of Fairbank, distant a couple of miles away; but now that the iron fet ters of winter were on everything, it looked cold, cheerless and uninviting. It had been 6nowing all day snow was everywhere. It was ton the rich pasture lands, on the closely-shaven meadows, on last year's tillage; it crowned fences, and maintained a pre . carious existence on the roofs of houses ; it rendered sightless gaps in broken roads, and lent a treacherous expansion to h'ghways; it, la short, blotted ou the ordinary landmarks, and was on great, whitestaring eyesore on the face of the landscape. Night had come on, and with It in creased activity on the part of the storm. It was bitttrly cold, too, and there was an edgo on the air like a knife. It was a night to enjoy a grateful meal and a comfortable fireside, and this was what May Sefton was prepar ing for her father's return in the little cottage by the roadside. Tho ample stove was aglow with the crackling wood-tire; the bright lamp light illumined the neat, decorous little kitchen; the old easy-chair wore a look of expectation as it stood by the table that awaited the burden of the substan tial suppf, and the blue-eyed rose-bud herself was blithely singing snatches of a ditty, as if in defiance of the gloom and storm without. FoAi dozen years and upward May Seftol had occupied this same abode with her father, and had been his sole companion and housekeeper. About that time George Sefton had made his first appearand in Fairbank, bringing with him littleeise than a fair, sweet child of four or five years old, and carrvine about him an air of sup pressed suilering that silenced in quiries, albeit that it somewhat excited curiosity. But this curiosity was sat isfied and turned to sympathy when it was leared that the stranger had re cently buried his partner, and that the golden-Laired child he so tenderly cher islipd wis motherless.' orge Sefton had not furnished Fair bank with this information in eomany words. From the dav of his arrival to tlio time whereof we write, he had never opened his lips on the subject of his antecedents. . Abraham Gilnian, or old Abe, as lie was more universally called, to distin guish him froi a younger Abe, had once asked George, when they weie working in the fields together, if he was not a widower like himself, whereat Abe's new employee had bent his head, and then maintained a silence so impres sive that the lact was taken for granted, a: 1 never after discussed. As for May, if questioned on the sub ject, ebe could only tell ot a big town and a large house, and a fine lady that used sometimes to kiss her, and who, one night, he was told by her lather, had died and was burled away for evefr more. "Six o'clock," cries May, stopping her warbling to laugh np in the face of tho old clock that chimed the hour. Six o'clock," she laughs, as she turns tho fragrant rashers in the oven, and casts a searching glance at the table to see that it contains all her own home made dainties. "Father will be here Fresently. 1 wonder If Abe will lush, you naughty thing," she adds, under her breath, and pressing her hands to her rosy mouth, as she hears a crunching sound drawing nigh. The sound draws nearer till It stops outside, when there is a scraping and stamping of feet, and then the door opens, and a fragrant, warm smell, and a bright gleam of light, and a smile ot delicious youth and innocence stream out in the face of the night and salute the intruders. The first to enter is a man, tall, and slightly bent, with a thin, aged face, and a fair, long beard, plentifully leav ened with gray hairs. He bends down, with an air not quite in keeping with his homely garb, and irrprfsses a fer vent kiss on the sweet, upturned face that greets him. He then steps aside with a courteous movement and dis closes the figure of a robust youth, with a beardless face wreathed In smiles, half-diflidcnt. half-assured, altogether guileless. " Come ' Inv Abe," says the little hostess, as be beams at her from the doorway. Smiling, Abe insinuates himself past her, without a word, merely rubbing the top of his frost-smitten nose by way of salutation. In or about this hour, Abe Gilman generally insinuated himself into the presence of May, and beguiled his even ings in the company of her and her father. George Sefton had some books which greatly interested him, especially when read to him by the owner or his daughter, and he occasionally borrowed one, though frequently puzzled by some of the words; for Abe was not much of a scholar, but he had a taste for litera ture, and lor May's society, which was a sort of education in itself. " You haven't had supper? Abe," said May, invitingly, to the visitor, with a peep at him that might have upset a more confident youth. "I'm just goin' back to it." said Abo, .apologetically. ' I only kem for a book yer latiipr promised to loan me." " Better stay for supper now, Abo," said George Sefton, in his quiet but kindly way. " Don't require to be coaxed too much before you consent," said Mav, with mock gravity, and a merry twinkle in her blue eye, that Kent Abe into a con vulsive titter, and brought him to the table without further parley. " Who went to Fairbank to-day P" in quired May, when she had set the meal in full motion. " Abo, my dear; he brought you your paper," answered her father. " I was chopping wood all day; much warmer work eh. AbeP" . " Yes, sir," returned Abe, with an emphasis on the second word that left no mistake as to his thorough agreement with his friend's opinion. "I never thought I'd get home. There wasn't a soul to bo seen in the village, 'cept what was keepin' the stove warm in the store There was a lady that kem by the cars, an' she wanted to. start straight away for Mansfield, an' she offered ten dollars to any one that'd take her, an', by golly, sir, she aouldn't to save her life git one that'd face it." " She was a trump," laughed May, " and she'd face it herself?" " Yes, by golly, she would that," said Abe: "but she had' so many shawls, an' furs, an' wraps with her, that I think she could have slep' In the snow for a week without being frozen." " It's a nasty road from hero to Mans field, Buch a night," said George Sefton ; but that was a stiff price." " She may get some onethat'll take her yet," said May. " She may, and she mayn't." said Abe, grinning comfortably at the fire. " If Jack Price was around, I don't think he'd let so much money go. I think he'd skin himself an' that horse of his for the whisky that ten dollars'd buy. " " I fear he'd run tho risk of it, Abe," said George, Bmiung. t'oor Jaclc is a rare fellow for his whisky," " Hush !" cried May, " this is a sleigh coming now; I'm sure I heard the bells Perhaps it's she. Look and see, Abe." "Ha couldn't see his finger outside.my dear," said her father, taking down his pipe off the mantle and filling it, whilst Abe rose to poep out. The tinkling sound advanced rapidly. but it was dark as pitch, and sleet and snow were traveling furiously with the wind. Abe could see nothing from the door step, so ho ran down to the wooden bridge that spanned the frozen stream. He could now discern the dark object coming furiously toward him, but lie noticed, with anxiety, that it was ia dining dangerously near the side ot the road on which was tre little ravine. Onward came the snorting horse at the top of his speed, but closer and closer to the brink of the highway. Abe raised his hands and voice la alarm to the driver, but his warning was not heard, or heard too Lite, for the next instant the hore and sleigh had tumbled into the bed of fronen water. The hoarse cry of a man in pain and a stifled moan reached the ears of the horrinid Abe, as he shouted out " Ueoree ! George I" . But George, who had heard the crash was on hand a moment alter the acci dent with a lantern, and. taking the situation in at a glance, first released the furiously struggling horse, and then lifted up the heavy sleigh that had cooi- Dletely turned over on the occupants . Jack Price for he it was was so full of Whisky that, when he regained his liberty, he scarce felt the pain of his broken arm and bruised and bloody face. George Sefton had already raited the other traveler In his arms, and a troubled lor k had gathered on his brow. " Take that druken fellow back to the village. Abe." he said, when Jack Price and his vehicle were once more In run ning order; "and make all tho haste you can bacK witn fie doctor, i tear this is a serious case." Is it the lndy. father P" eaid May, who had come iorward and was hold ing the lantern, as George clambered up to the road with the unconscious bun dle in his arms. " I suppose so. Mav." he replied, Kn owing uer into the cottage. "Who ever it is, is, I dread, badly hurt." May drew the lounge close to the fire. and on it the insensible woman was laid. Abe did not exaggerate when he stated that the lady was well protected from the weatlier. one was wrapped and muffled up till her -face was no longer vUihle. and Mav'a first tfl'orts were directed to relieve her from some of this now unnecessary covering. George Sefton was bending anxiously over the two women, watching lor a glimpse ot the stranger s face. When it was revealed to nim, gnastiy white, but still aggressively beautiful, his breathing for a moment ceased,' and a scared expression lit up his mild, bluo eyes. May, too. was startiea at., me sigut ot the death-like face; but when she glanced up at her lather, and beheld his ashrn countenance and trembling form, she was filled with terror. : " What is it, father?" she exclaimed. Do you think, hen, she's dead?" His dazed look wandered from, the prostrate figure on the lounge, and rested on the innocent being kneeling at her side. "No, I don't think she is," he replied, at length, in a voice scarcely above a whiBper. The scared expression in ins lace had stolen into his voice, and it was hushed and frightened. - Tears welled up into Mays eyes, ana drop:ed on the cold hands she was chafing. ' The lady, after a while, showed' symp toms of returning consciousness. Be yond her pallor and insensibility, she presented no outward sign ol injury. " I don't think she's much hurt, father," eaid May, leaning tenderly over her patient, the tears still glistening lik pearls on her eyelashes; but, noting, with hope and pleasure, the increasing evidences of animation. .. - He made no response to May's re mark, but continued to stare Btraight down at the pallid, beautiful face of the lady. Suddenly a nair of eves, larger and more liquid than May's, but of the same azure hue, are opened out upon him, and the conscious woman is scrutiniz ing his weird, haggard countenance. For a brlct moment a crimson liusu banishes the pallor, and the hands- that May holds are clutched convulsively. Then the red blood deserts the face again, and it becomes ten times more livid, l lie beautnui, liquid eyes oroop abashed before the man's gaze, and trav erse searchingly the room, till they rest on May kneeling by her. I'm not deceived, then," sne leebly mutters. Is this" Her voice broke the spell, or sluror that had seized George Sefton at the first glimpse of her, and, in a low and decisive tone, he eaid : You mustn't epeak just now, madam, till the doctor arrives, and we know what's the trouble. Prepare your bed for this lady, May," he added, mo tioning the young girl to her room, gravely. May had scarcel y disappeared, when he was at the woman's side, whisper ing excitedly in her ear : " You mustn t let ner Known notumg. It's better for her it's better for you. I don't want to reproach you now. I don't know what strange . fatality brought you to my cabin to-night; but whatever it was leave us leave her in the peace and innocence that you have found her. Since the hour that you de serted her I've led her to believe you dead. I've striven to hide you and your sin from your child with tho charitable mantle of the grave, and for that sole purpose I've since hidden my self here. Don't seek to undeceive her. Iiet her still think of you with re gtet. Let her memory of you continue to be a fragrant one." .. ,. The errinit woman ' listened with closed eyes and blanched cheeks to the man s passionate worns. "May 1 kiss herr was all she fal tered. "Yes. if" Mav entered, and George Sefton moved away, and Hung himself into a chair in a far corner ot tue room. Mav resumed her watch by the lady's side, taking the cold, slender hands once more m hers, she noticed that the lovely eyes, which were turned with in finite tenderness op her, were dimmed with tears, aud .that the hands she clasned pressed hers caressingly. I he monotonous tic:, tick:, of the old clock was all that broke the silence of the room. The lady closed her eyes, and May was beginning to think that she was er ing to sleep, when a sweet voice whis. pered in her ear: Kiss me, uarnng. The young girl crept closer, aad wind ing her arms round the woman's neck, wrapped the poor soul in her chaste em brace. Was it the instinct of love or pity? When George Sefton awoke from his painful reverie an hour later to admit Abe Gilman and the doctor, he found the two women asleep, the elder resting on the bosom oi tne younger. The girl was easily aroused, but the other awoke no more. The friends who came for the dead woman knew not the unhappy husband under his assumed name and altered an pearanee.and May never learned that her mother had passed out of thespheieof sin and shame in her arms. Her lather lived long enough to see he-; the happy wile of Abe (iilmwn, nnd tben passed away, carrying his grsret with liiin. TIMELY TOPICS. ,: . It is proposed to build In certain dis tricts on tne western frontier of Kan sas churches made of sods. A few such already exist. The walls are of sods, the roofs are covered with sods, and the floors are of earth. A church can be built, in size about 26x38, for an outlay in money of only $10, and this has already been done in at least one instance. A wall of soda, if prop erly built, and protected, will last 100 years. Itoofs of shingles and floors of wood are greatly to be desired, but, of course, they add very much to the cost of a church. . Germany, with a population of 42, 000,000 has 60.000 schools and an at tendance of 6,000,000 pupils; Great Britain and Ireland, with a population of 34,000,000 has 58,000 schools and 3,000,000 pupils ; Austria-Hungary, with a population of 37,000,000, has 30,000 schools and 3,000,000 pupils; France, with a population of 37,000,000, has 71, 000 schools and 4,700,000 pupils: Spain, with a population of 17,000,000, has 20, 000 schools and 1,600,000 pupils; Italy, with a population of 88,000,000, has 47, 000 schools and 1,900,000 pupils; and Russia, with a population of 74,0( 0,000, has 32,000 schools and 1,100,000 pupils. Glucose manufacture is making an ex citement in the maize districts of the West, the factory at Buffalo and ita re markable success being the prime stim ulant. Half a dozen establishments have been planted within a month in Indiana, Illinois and Iowa- Cyrus Mc Cormick and others have, it is said, put $650,000 Intft one at Chicago. It is to have capacity of 20,000 bushels a day, which is the equivalent of 300 tons of sugar. A bushel of corn, costing about forty cents, produces thirty pounds of grape sugar, or three gallons of syrup. This sugar, which costs them net two cents per pound, they can sell at from three and one-half to four cents, while the three gallons of syrup can be sold at from thirty-live to forty cents a gauon. ' One of the Irish parish priests to whom Mr. Red path, the New York Tribune correspondent, sent a letter of inquiry concerning the distress caused by Jamme. says : " It would be impos sible for me to individualize, where hun dreds and hundreds in my parish are in this state. May . God, in His mercy, open wide to us the American heart. In It, under God. is our hope. A better day, I trust, is coming; and when it comes and when the merry word and joyous laugh are again heard, believe me. though we forget evervthine e so connected with the dread times of the year 1880, we shall never, never forget America, who. by beingthe true friend in need.' proved herself to be the friend indeed."' Another priest writes: "My house is actually besieged from earlv dawn till late at night by hundreds of ragged, hungry-looking persons, most . i r i ..I . . piieousiy ('raving uuu ciumormg 101 re liet. JNo amount ot private charity. I fear, will be sufficient to meet the present appalling distress." Professor Swing, the wM-known Chicago minister, thinks it must be ac cepted as a fact that there is great suf- lering in Ireland to-day. and that the money forwarded from this land, and from all lands, and from Lngland her self, is the tribute due from the fortu nate to the unfortunate in an era which declares all men to be brethren. If the grasshoppers in Nebraska made outside help necessary, it the yellow fever in the South demanded an upris ing in Northern charity, so the famine in Ireland proclaims that another time has come for help to pass over from the strong to the weak. The utter failure of crops for several seasons has made it impossible for parents to bu j new cloth ing lor the children, and hence the awful scene of several little ones wrapped in one ragged blanket, at once without X 1 1 i A A. . , C khju iuiu wiuiioui . covering.. ieiore theso repeated failures of crops there were thousands in this afflicted coun try who were just on the edge of star vation. In good times these had not enough food or clothing, and now that tue crops have tailed tor three consecu tive seasons, it ought not to require much more than a rumor to convince one that there must be great distress in many parts ol the Irish country. He Remembered Exactly. A lying witness will often tell a very glib story, but he generally fails to guard all his weak points. At a recent trial in court the following took place in attempting to prove an alibi: Attorney S, ' You say that Ellis plowed for you all day on the 20th of November? Witness referring to his note-book Xes. S.-What did he do on the 30th? W. We chopped wood. S.-On the 3 1st P W. That was Sunday, and we went squirrel hunting. . S. What did he do on the 3ad W. He thrashed wheat on that day S. What did ho do on the 33d? W. It was raining, and he Bhaved out some handles. S What did he do on the3ith? W. He chopped wood. S. What did he do on the? But before the question could be fin ished, the witnesses's wife seized him by the collar and whisked him outside of the witness-box, yelling in his affright ed ear " You old fool don't you know there are only thirty days in the montli ot November?" When old Mr. Higglnsworth was asked if ho took a newspaper, he replied tli at "since our member of Congress has stopped sending me the Uonuressw na Hi cord I don t lake any, but I guess kin get along without it. It never uives much news anyhow..4. Paul " Mother, Hare We Any Meal This Day 1" j Mr. Redpath. the New York Tribune correspondent sent to Ireland to Inquire into the condition of the famine-stricken people, has received many letters from parish priests detailing a deplorable state of affairs. The following letter from Rev. John J. O'Keanc, dated Dramore West, is a tale of suffering that ought to move a heart of stone : The area of this parish is over 10,000 acres, the greater part or which ii bog and mountain, and the remaining por tion, with the exception of a couple of hundred acres of grazing land, consists of poor marshy lowlands. The average size of the holdings is between six and eight acres, and the population, Includ ing all denominationsr is about 600 families, nearly 4.000 individuals. Over 400 families are dependent on the relief committees, and 100 families in the parish are almost entirely in want of clothing, and the children in a state of semi-nudity. ' On bunday morning last, as I was about going to church, a poor young woman, prematurely aged by poverty, addressed me. Being in a hurry I said : ' I have no time to speak to you. Mrs. Calpin; are you not on the relief list?" Jo, lather." she answered, "and we ere starving." Her appearance caused me to stop. he had no shoes, and her wretched clothing made her a picture of misery. I asked her why her hus band had not come to speak to me. Her reply was: ,4IIe has not had a coat for the last two years, and this being Sunday did not wish to trouble Thomas Feeney for the loan of one, as he some- les lends one to him." "Have you any other clothes beside what I see on you?" "Father. I am ashamed " was the reply ; " I have not even astitch of underclothing." " How many children have you?" "Four, father." "What are their ages?" "The eldest, a boy, eight years ; a girl, seven ; another four, and a little one on the breast." " Have they any clothes?" "No, sir; you might remember when you were passing last September you called into the house, and 1 had to put the children aside for their nakedness." " Have you any bedclothes P" "A couple of guano bags." "How could you live for the last week ?" " I'll tell you, sir. I went to my brother. Martin McGee. of Far- relinfarrel, and he gave me a couple of porringers ol Indian meal each day, from which I made Indian gruel, of which I gave the husband the biggest portion, as he was working in the helds." " Had you anything lor the children?" "Oh, father," she ex claimed, " the first question they put me in the morning is, ' Mother, have we any meal this day?' If I say I have. they are happy ; if not, they are sad nnu commence to cry." At these words she showed great emotion, and I could not remain unmoved. This is one of the many cases I might adduce in proof of the misery of my people. The Chinese Theater. In the north of China every town and every large village boasts of its perma nent theater, while the inuabitants of other villages, too small to be so fortu nale, find little difficulty in extemporiz ing theaters of mat and bamboo on any chance arrival of an itinerant troop of actors. As long as the visit of these wandering players last, the people of the district give themselves up to tue en joyraent of the holiday. Larly each morning tne roads Irom all the country round may be seen crowded with peo ple, the poorer ones on loot. f.nd. it id the north of China, the wealthier classes on mules or in carts, all tending to the one point of attraction ; the women gay in blue, red or green silks, and tho men in their best and brightest attire. If wo lollow this pleasure-seeking crowd, we enter a theater built in the form of a parallelogram, at one end of which is a plat lor m, generally, though not always, as wide as the building. The platform is divided breadthwise by a wooden par tition with two entrances, the Iron t part forming tne stage, and the rear portion serving the purposes oi green room property room and abode of the troupe. The body of the theater, answering to our pit and stalls, is without seats or partitions; while above and encircling the whole are the boxes in which the women and principal subscribers have their places. If the district should be a very poor one the probability is that we nnd ourselves opposite a covered stage or an open piece of ground, in front ot which the carts of the visitors. full of their occupants, are arranged in a Bemi-circle, thus forming the walls of a truly 1 lies pian theater. Within this enclosure stands a densely packed, good natured, eager crowd, whose power of standing is only equ&ied by their po er of unflagging enjoyment. No money is taken at the doors. The troupe is ten erally hired either by a private indi vidual or by a public subscription for a certain number of days, and tree admiS' sion is granted to every one. The per formances last from trie early morning until late in the evening, with short in tervals between each four or five pieces. The acting, generally speaking, is good. tor the Chinese are naturally quick of observation, and are thus able, in every day life, to catch easily the tone of those with whom they associate, and on the stage to assume the characters they wish to represent. The possession of these faculties is the more important, as the actors get very little guidance from the play book, which almost entirely con tide their directions to " enter." " exit ' and "njiide " or as the Chinese literally translated means, " ascenV "de.cend,,' and " turn the back and Bay." CotUeni- porary Review. A certain painter was bragging of his wonderlul command ol color to a irtend one dav. His lriend did not beem U take it uuite r.ll in. " Why," exclaimed the painter, "do you know that there are but three painters in the world, sir. who understand color?" "And who arc they?" at last asked the friend "Why. sir. I am one, and and and and I forget the name of thtother two ! , A TTelrd Fancy. If the dead, lying under the grasses, Unseen linger near the bwreft, Having knowledge and sense oi what pass In the hearts and homes they bar left. What tear-drops, than soa-waters sltr, Must tall whan they see all the itrtte When they see how ws full, how wo taltor, How we miss in the duties of lit. Ii the great, who go ont with their iacs Bedewed by a weeping world's tears, Stand near and see how their plsoee) Are filled, while the multitude cheer Ii the parent, whose back ia bent double With delving for riches and gold, Lends an er to the wrangle and trouble About htm, before he ia cold; If the wile, who left weeping and sorrow Behind her, bends down Irom oboro, And beholds the tears dried on the morrow, And the eyes newly burning with lore; If the gracious and royal-sonled mother, From the silence and hush ol the tomb, Can hear the harsh voice ot another, Slow -blighting the fruit of ber womb; II the old hear their dearly -forgotten Rejoicing that burdens are gone; If the young know how soon they're for gotten, While the mirth and the reel go on What sighing of sorrow and anguish Most sound through the chambers of space , What desolate spirits must languish In that mystio and nndescribed place 1 Then life were a tarce with ita burden, And death but a terrible est 1 But they cannot. The grave gives ita goer don Of silenoe and beautiful rest. ITgMS OF INTEREST. M. de Iesseps never indulges iu alco- holio beverages. The number of families living in New York city is 213,467. A hoarse shoo never brings good luck to a foraging hen. Wheeling Leader. Peter Cooper has a fine collection of Greek and Roman coins which he has been gathering during the last fifty-nine years. A slab of wood marks the grave of Stonewall Jackson's mother, who was buried on an eminence 700 feet above the river at iiawk's Nest, Virginia. , The proverb, " Every bullet has Its billet," is said to have originated in a superstition common among soldiers fifty years back that their name was written on the bullet that stretched them dead. He told her that be loved her In tones so solt and mellow; But she said she couldn't marry him, For she'd asked another fellow. ( rhis is lean-year.) Steubtnvillt Herald. " Two sisters of Glasgow got mad st a plumber and threw him out of the filth story window." nut ue got even with the sisters. lie charged them double time from the iinute he left the window until he strurk the sidewalk. Norrirtown Ilerald. In digging the Suez canal Egyptian workmen were forced to make hods of their backs, placing their hands behind them and clamping the leit wtist with the right hand. Boys under twelve years of age were made to do this It is hardly neceasary to add that thousands pemucd under such lniiuman treat ment. A uhvsician at Areata". Cal.. had for a patient a girl for whom he entertained high regard, as she waa tue dauguier of an intimate friend. He could not cure her. however, and she died with out the exact nature of her disease be ing discovered. Immediately on hear ing of her death he accused himselt of lack ot medical emu, ana committee suicide. There hangs in the office of the Walla- Walla ( W.T.) Statesman the sign under which the Nez Perces fought and sur rendered to General Howard in the war of 1877. It is nothing more than the skin of a red fox, with the exception that at the base of the neck there is a scalp lock. When fighting at Bear Paw mountain, this was nung up on a nign pole, as a sign that they would use all the cunning and strategy of that animal while fighting. Two gushing Boston girls were walk- ing'one day in the suburbs of the Hub, when they stumbled on a little old-tash-ioned mile stone, forgotten in the march of improvement. One of them stopped. and parting tue grass discovered tne half-effaced inscription, ; " I. m. from Boston." upon which she exclaimed, ecstatically : " Here is a grave, perhaps, of some young girl who wished it writ tenon her tombstone, V from Boston.' How touching! so simK jnd so ufa- cient!" An erring husband, who had ex hausted all explanations for late hours' and had no apology ready, recently slipped into the house, about two o'clock, very softly, denuded himself tentlv, and "began rocking the cradte by the bedside, as if he had been awakened out of a sound sleep by infantile cries. He had rocked away for ten minutes, when Mary Jane, who had silently observed the whole maneuver, said, " Come to bed. you fool I the baby ain't there." Toronto Graphic. There are at present in Europe 719 princes and princesses, each having a claim more or less remote to a rrown. The one with the greatest number of titles is the Emperor of Austria, Francis Joteph. In addition to his title as em peror, he is nine times king, once arch duke, twice grand duke, eighteen time duke, four times margrave, five times count prince, twice prince, and many times count and lord. His cartes t visite make the fortune of photogrnnh ers. The King of Portugal has eighteen first names, his eldest eon has twenty and bit youngest twenty-nine.