1
i
I
Rates of A'lvtrtiuKr;.
,-1
OnM1uare (1 Incii,,, ww inncrti-'ii -OrsNiiaro
. n. fi'di li -
OneH'jnare " t! rer 'r.oni i, -OneHqtwre
". mil! yc.i - -Two
Squares, rne yrti
Quarter Col. '
V
- :t
(5 ( IJ
ernes in- Mrawoi a bossier's buuxim
IXJt ETRriT, TI0:EoTA, PA.
4T
- 10 (.
- i o
.no i o
- liiO I l!
! i !
Half " " - .
On " " - -
Trims, ii. no vr.Aii. v
No SuI.b.., p(i, rp,.ivM for ft shorter
p:'m:l thru) (lirno months.
f 'M-i(-s,ii .l.-ii.i Hollcil.'ti rtoin H pail
l the country. So notice will betaken o
ftuonynious communications.
Lcgml notices at psdiblinlieri l auH.
Marrinee and dentil notices, frrstis.
All bills for yearly advertisement !
leoled quarterly. 'Jm!ornry nd Vf r! W-.
mnts muwt bn paid for in advance.' .
. Job work.. Cash on lclivei y.
VOL. XI Y. NO. 10. TIONESTA, PA., JUNE 1, 1881.
$1.50 Per Annum.
ill I I I i 1 1 i E I
i' .Ul I L ul u
"v v ' f
Xever .'.H.nl What "They " Say.
Do.i't worry and frot,
A 1 M : 1 f vdlllt pO(l)lo tllillk
t if ymir vmivh or your means
Of j'niir fooil or your drink. "
1 1' ymi know yon ore doi:i(j ,
Vmir lft, (.very iliiy,
Willi the. ri'lit on your aide,
Never mind what "they" say.
Layout in Ujo morning
Your plans for each hour,
And never forget
That old time is a power.
This also remember
'Along truths old and now
The world is too busy
To think much of you.
I lien garner the minute
That make up the hours,
And pluck in your pilgrimage
Honor's bright flowers.
Should grumblers anure you
Your course will not pay,
Yih eoiiKoioiice at reHt,
JvVvnr mind what " tl.ey " say.
Too many have loitered,
Until tho ebb tide, ; '
While socking opinions .
From thoiso at thoir side,
Too many good awimmors
Have chonoti to sink, i
Because thoy are martyrs ' '
To "what people think."
Then let us, forgottlng
Tho insensate throng,
That joiatlos ua daily
While marching along,
Tri MM onward and upward,
And make no delay
And though pooplo talk,
Never mind what " thoy " say. '
Aunt Keeloy's Money.
It was no great pleasure to any
of the Goldaburyg wlien Aunt Keeley
wrote from Ler Lome in a distant State
that the was coming to pay them a brief
Tiait.
Bhe was onlr the half-sister of their
grandpapa, and had , never manifested
any interest in or affoction for her
relatives. Her husband had mad
money, and they had thereupon lived in
ft siiwior stylo, in their distant home,
Jtypsmtty . quite indifferent to their
b'nV pro.''iJoiroifs-Pf k-tives. Indeed, bo
little communication MiRd existed be
tween them that, as Mrs. John Golds
bury observed , 1 " they would never have
known that Uncle Keeloy was still
living, but for hearing of his death."
Long, however, before this latter event,
all the GoldsburyH had been aware that
Mt. Samuel Keeley had made a will,
whereby he left tho whole of his
E roper ty tn his wife, to be bequeathed
y her, at her death, to his nephew and
namesake, Samuel Keeley, Jr.
This had been cause sufficient to
deprive them of all interest in the
Keeleys. Wherefore, it was not strange
that the prospect of a visit from the
widow shortly after her husband s death,
should have inspired them with no
great degree of pleasure.
The two Goldsbury brothers, Mr.
John and Mr. Henry, left the matter to
their wives, and those ladies, after a
mutual consultation, agreed that the
promised visit would be a bore, and that
Aunt Keeley must, by all means, be put
off.
So Mrs. John, who was beginning to
aspire to fashionable society, wrote that
she was about taking her family to the
seashore, and perhaps Aunt Keeley
would prefer to come to them in De
cember, well knowing, from the old
bv's hint of rheumatism, that she
id scarcely venture upon so long a
journey at that season.
JJih. Henry, on her part, informed
her husband's grand-aunt that they
were thinking of repairing and adding
to their house they had a kitchen
dresser and coal-bin in contemplation
and Aunt Keeley would be so dreadfully
annoyed by the noise and confusion
that no doubt she would prefer to post
I'ona her vihit until she could be made
more comfortable.
No answer was received from the old
lady, and the two sisters-in-law con
gratulated themselves on having so
easily gotten rid of her.
lint, one day, when Mr. Henry Golds
bury came home to dinner, he was met
by his wife with a startling piece of in
tfelligonce. Mr. Kanvuel Keeley, Jr., was dead!
, Jle had actually died a very bhort
time after the decease of his uncle, and
the Goldsburys had never known of it.
Mrs. Henry had this information from
an acquaintance who had been in Aunt
Kcele y's neighborhood at the time of
the vourig man's death.
""Well," said Mr.. Goldsbury, coolly,
" I don't see why you hhould be so ex
cited over it, Emma. We shan't be
called tipon to go into mourning for
him."
."How stupid of you, Henry ! Don't
you see that now he ia dead the old
lady can leave her money to whom she
pleases, no other heir having been men
tioned in her husband's will ?"
Alt," baid Mr. Goldsbury, in sudden
enlightenment, " so bho can I"
" And," pursued Emma, eagerly, "I
haven't the lea.st doubt but that her pro
posed visit must have been for the pur
pose of ehooning an heir from amongst
ua ; for, though distant, we are yet her
ne;trest relatiuus."
"It may be ho !" eaid her husband,
thoughtfully, stroking his whiskers.
"I know it must be bo 1 Or, if bhe
has no such intention at present, you
1'iow the may have when bhe gets
em
"Why, of course, I Rhall write at
once and invite her ; and I think, Harry,
that at present we had not better say
anything at present to your brother and
Lucy about young Keeey's death. They
inignt think that we wero acting from
interested motives ; and, besides, Lucy
might bo beforehand ith me. She is
so grasping."
"Grasping? I never before heard
that of John's wife."
" Oh, most people are, you know
when the temptation offers.
Mr. Goldsbury shrugged his shoulders.
".Well, do as you please ; and if the
old lady chooses to leave us her money,
why it won't do her or ourselves uny
harm
So the letter was written, and in duo
time Aunt Keeley arrived.
She was a tall, stiff, precise old lady
with a stately manner and a hard, pene
trating look. She dressed in old-fashioned
black silks and velvets, and talked
much about her family, with allusions to
her style of living before the death of
her husband her carriage and ser
vants. - . .
"Of course I 'do not keep up the
same style since Samuel's death," she
said. " When one gets old and feeble,
ne cares little for society or show of
any kind, though I confess that I still
like to have things about me handsome
and well appointed." '
Mrs. Henry Goldsbury felt a little
anxious. Though able to live in com
fort and even in some degree of luxury,
her husband's income was barely suffi
cient to support them thus, and it
would cost so much to make Aunt
Keeley comfortable, according to the
old lady's own ideas of comfort. .
But it would not do to begrudge the
expense; for Lucy, who had discovered
Die death of Aunt Keeley 's appointed
heir, was already beginning to maneuver
to get her to her house, which was
handsomer and more luxuriously fur
nished than Emma's, though the income
of the brother's .was about the same.
So a new suit of furniture was bought
for Aunt Keeley, the table kept supplied
with unwonted luxuries, and everything
done to make her comfortable and con
tented where Bhe was.
She was very reserved and reticent in
regard to her own affairs and property.
Indeed, when once or twice Mr. Golds
bury was imprudent enough to approach
the subject Aunt Keeley raised her eyes
fi oni her knitting and fixed them upon
him so bharplvand suspiciously that his
wife was on thorns.
Sometimes, however, when left to
herself, she would make incidental al
lusions to "plate," "lands" or "bonds,"
which caused Emma to exchange signi
ficant glances -with her husband, and
an expression of satisfaction to over
spread tho latter's placid visage.
There were other , things, however,
which were not so agreeable to the
Goldsburys. Aunt Keeley had very de
cided opinions of her own,' and ex
pressed them freely. She was liberal
with advice, and not overpleased when
this was not taken.
She disapproved of a great many
things in tho household, and was per
sistent in her efforts at a reform. The
children should not be allowed to wear
tight dresses and high-heeled shoes.
The windows should be left open at
the top, and fires be kept burning dar
ing the night, for sake of ventilation.
Emma should not drink coffee, which
would make her bilious; and Mr. Golds
bury ought to leam to take his tea
without sugar and milk, which ingredi
ents changed the nature of the beverage
into tannin. ' But above all things did
Aunt Keeley loathe and despise tobacco
in all its shapes; and Mr. Goldsbury,
who could not give up his cigar, was at
length reduced to having a closet fitted
np as a smoking-room for the exclusive
use of himself and friends.
Goldsbury grew discontented and
morose.
" I suppose she will restrict me to a
vegetable diet next," he grumbled.
" And there are the children, forbidd n
to eat any but rice pudding, and sent
out of the parKir in the evenings be
cause she don't like their noise. I tell
you, Emma, you and Aunt Keeley are
going too far."
' ' It's for the children's good, Harry,
as you must know. We ought to be
willing to submit to a little unpleasant
ness for their sake."
I don't see the necessity of sacrific
ing their and our present happiness for
sake of future benefit. If Aunt Keeley
chooses to leave us her money, like a
rational being, well and good; but she
has no right to expect tis to make slaves
of ourselves to her caprices."
"Now, Henry, I call that foolish and
ungrateful. Aunt Keeley doesn't ex
pect or wish to make slaves of us. What
we do is done of our own choice, to
please and gratify her. How can we
expect her to leave us her wealth while
we do nothing to deserve it 'C
Between the hitherto friendly fami
lies of the Goldsburys there now arose
a sharp rivalbhip for the favor of Aunt
Keeley. Their pleasant and familiar
intercourse was in a great measure
broken off, and each kept a keen watch
upon the other, suspicious of being out
witted and outdone.
Mrs. John Goldobury had the pleas
antest chamber in her house furnished
expressly for Aunt Keeley's comfort
and convenience a first floor chamber,
which would obviate the necessity of
going up and downstairs. Thereupon,
Mrs. Henry, while tho old lady was at
her brotber-in-law's, had a room built
exclusively for her, wfch a convenient
little Urebsiug-room attached, and went
i N a hired carriage to bring her " home."
, This carriage, indeed, was now very
i i !) e:i!i d fur to take Aunt Keeley ulit
Emma's indignation upon learning that
Lucy had purchased a pony and a basket-carriage
in order to afford Aunt
Keeley the luxury of a daily airing.
, And so the rivalry and the jealousy
went on, its effects extending even to
the children of the two families, until,
as Henry Goldsbury observed, his home
and his relatives scarcely appeared the
same to him; and the pleasure of his
life was nearly destroyed. To make it
worse he had been obliged more than
once to draw upon the little capital
which he had succeeded in investing,
and bills for luxuries, hitherto unknown
in the family, now began to present a
formidable aspect.
If Aunt Keeley had been grateful and
pleasant the matter would not have
been so bad. But she took everything
as though it were her right; lectured
her grown nephews and nieces and
snubbed the children, ner will ruled
both families, as she happened to be an
inmate of either house. It was impos
sible to discover to which she was the
most partial, since she divided her time
pretty equally between each; when any
thing displeased her in one family,
straightway going over to the other.
" Emma," said Mr. Henry Goldsbury,
desperately, " I've had enough of Aunt
Keeley. You've kept her now over a
year. Why not let her go home, and
we enjoy . some peace and freedom
again?" -
"Why, Harry, you surprise me! I
thought it was a settled thing that this
was to be auntie's home unless Lucy
succeeds in inveigling her into her own
family. And if she does that, or if
Aunt Keeley leaves us at all, to live
anywhere else, we shall never get a
penny of her fortune, trust me for that.
There will be plenty to hang round and
wheedle it all out of her. People are
so greedy and mercenary."
" But the expense "
" Now not a word, Harry, upon that
subject. What is the paltry expense
compared with all that we shall get in
return for it ? And auntie is old, you
know. I am sure I am the very last
person on earth to look forward to any
one's death for sake of their money; but
you know that in the natural course of
things auntie can't live forever, neither
very long, at her present age; and our
duty is to make life pleasant for her if
we want her to to enjoy herself," con
cluded Emma,, hastily.
" But how do we know that she will
leave her fortune, or any of it, indeed,
to us?"
" Because I heard her say, only this
morning, that she didn't intend that any
of her possessions should go out of the
family," retorted Emma, triumphantly.
' ' I've been all day watching for an op
portunity of telling you of it."
"Well, in that case, I suppose we
must try and put up with her a little
longer. But I should like to know
exactly what property she has got."
' " We know that Uncle Keeley was a
rich man when he died," his wife re
plied ; "and I warn you, Harry, to be
ware how you touch upon that subject
again in aunt's presence. She is sus
picious." About this time Aunt Keeley began
to hint that she had been accustomed
to spend her Bummers in the country ;
and then to remark that Emma and the
poor children were looking very badly.
Emma, alarmed at this, and anxious
to gratify the old lijJ proposed that
her husband should , ut for a nice
place where they cot loard for the
summer ; but he assuxeuflier that it was
impossible that country board this
season was unusually high, and that, in
fact, there was no money for it. Ho
was sorry, but the family would have to
stay at home this summer, unless Aunt
Keeley chose to go somewhere at her
own expense.
But of this his wife wouldn't hear.
Aunt Keeley must not be lost sight of,
let whatever would happen.
"Just like men," Aunt Keeley re
marked, on hearing of her nephew's de
cision. "I never knew a man yet un
less it was poor, dear Samuel who was
ever willing to let his family go away
and enjoy themselves without him."
And listening to her talk, Emma
began to feel herself an ill-used wife.
I'robably, m consequence of this state
of things, Mr. Goldsbury wasn't sorry
when, just about this time, business
called him away from home.
" I suspected something of the sort
all the time," Aunt Keeley observed,
significantly.
And Emma felt herself more ill-used
than ever.
Once away from the now depressing
atmosphere of his own home Mr.
Goldsbury experienced a sense of relief
and exhilaration.
Meeting with some old friends he was
prevailed ujon to accompany them
"down the country" for some duck
shooting, and thence to the Fair Oak
laces.
Here, carried away by the excitement
of the occasion, he offered to bet on a
friend's horse, won, and generously gave
his friends an oyster supper.
The report of these doings reached
home before he himself did.
"It is just as I thought," remarked
Aunt Keeley, calmly. "And if I were
you, Emma, I would have more spirit
than to submit to it."
la consequence Emma drew out of
bank a little investment of her own
which the had been saving up for the
children ; and, w hen Mr. Goldbbury at
last returned home, feeling a little
ashamed and a good deal remorseful, he
found the house shut up, and the family,
including Aunt Keeley, "gone to the
country." . -
" Without a word to rue !" he ex
claimed to his brothf r J. bn, in the jwtt
-li'
of the family. " But it is all the do
ings of that pestiferous old grand-aunt
of onrs. But for her Emma would
never have dared to take such a step."
Mr. John repeated these words to his
wife, and on the day following they
reached Aunt Keeley herself in an affec
tionate letter from Lucy.
" And now, dear auntie," proceeded
Mrs. John, " the best thing that you
can do is to join us at Highland Glen,
the sweet9st, healthiest country place
in the world, for which we shall to-day
take our departure, and wait till Henry
gets into a better humor. With us you
shall always be welcome, and never be
misjudged or unappreciated."
Aunt Keeley needed no further per
suasion; even Emma's tears had no
effect upon her, and in her indignation
she rode twenty miles on a damp day to
join her "Nephew John's" family
more than hinting that she would never
return to Henry Goldsbury's roof.
Emma returned home more than ever
irritated against her husband; and the
meeting between the two was unlike
any that had ever before taken place
full of mutual reproach and recrimina
tion. '
. " You've ruined your children's pros
pects," Emma said, bitterly; " disgraced
yourself and driven Aunt Keeley away
from your roof I"
" And I hope she'll stay away," he
retorted, sullenly. "If she left us
every penny of her fortune it could
not compensate for the mischief she has
cuiged. Not that the fault has been
altogether her own," he added, more
gloomily; "for if we had not allowed
mercenary motives to influence us, and
descended to mean fortune-hunting "
"Speak for yourself! I am sure if poor
Aunt Keeley hadn't a cent in the
world"
"Emma!" said Mrs. Goldsbury,
holding up his hands " Emma, be a
fortune-hunter be anything, in short,
except a hypocrite !"
" A hypocrite ! Oh, Harry, this from
you to to me ?"
And then there was sobbing and
remorse, and finally a mutual making
up and reconciliation; and despite the
knowledge of AuntKeeley's anger, both
the husband and wife felt happier than
for many a day past.
"Only, I do hope," Mr. Goldsbury
concluded, as they went down with all
the children to tea " I do hope that
Aunt Keeley won't come back again to
bring discord into the house, like an
evil fairy."
And she never did, poor old lady !
The wet ride., and perhaps her own high
indignation, had their effect upon her,
and, before any one imagined that she
was in danger even, 4unt Keeley was
dead.
She had made the doctor, who habitu
ally attended her, produce her last will
and . testament from her trunk, and had
it carefully witnessed and sealed before
she died.
According to her request it was
opened and read immediately upon her
decease.
Ia this remarkable document Aunt
Keeley had disposed of all her posses
sions in the manner following to wit:
Her silver consisting of a dozen
family spoons, a snuffbox, sugar tongs,
candle-snuffer and six thimbles was to
be melted down into a plate and handles
for her coffin.
Her jewels to wit: a gold wedding
ring, diamond engagement ring, and
gold locket, set with pearls, containing
her husband's portrait were to be
buried with her.
The portrait of her grandfather a
hero of the Revolution she bequeathed
to the State historical society. The
other family portraits those of her
father and brother she desired should
be burnt, because she would not have
them go out of the family, and she did
not desire that they should be degraded
by being displiyed on the parlor walls
of any of the present generation of
Goldsburys.
And, finally, her money Borne 6ix
hundred dollars in the bank at M was
to be expended in a monument to be
erected over her grave.
And she constituted Dr. Wall exec
utor of the will.
At first the Goldsburys wouldn't be
lieve it. Aunt Keeley must have been
out of her mind when she wrote that
absurd paper.
But inquiries speedily established the
startling fact that Mr. Samuel Keeley,
in consequence of extensive and reckless
speculations, all of which had failed,
had died insolvent after that will inhis
nephew's favor had been made; and
Aunt Keeley had thereupon come to
live upon her relatives without ever say
ing a word about it.
" I suppose she fancied she would be
unwelcome if we knew ol her poverty,"
Mrs. John Goldsbury suggested.
" Or, rather, she wanted to live in
luxury, so allowed us to believe her
still wealthy," said his .wife.
" Selfish, deceitful, ungrateful old
woman!" was Mr. Goldsbury's reflec
tion. For he could not quite forgive her
for having influenced his wife against
him.
While Enfma, after the first shock of
surprise and disappointment, observed
to her husband:
"After all it is some comfort to think
that Lucy, with all her arts and maneuv
ering, has only succeeded in obtaining
the privilege of paying the funeral ex
penses." "No; I'll go halves with John in
that," her hubband said. " We'll give
the old lady as good u funerl as we can
aflotd, since bhe seemed to think so
much of such things, even though hLe
didn't con.-idtr us worthy to j t-.;-:- her
This generosity quite touched Mr.
and Mrs. John. And now that Aunt
Keeley and her fortune had vanished
like a dream, all the rivalry and jeal
ousy and ill-feeling between the two
families vanished with them; and, taught
by a lesson which they never forgot, the
former affection and happiness wero re
newed. And not one of the four but confessed,
in his and her secret heart, that they de
served all that had been brought upon
them by thoir mercenary hankering after
Aunt Keeley's fancied fortune.
mm mi in m m
HEALTH UIXTS.
Palxless Cube for Wabts. Drop a
little vinegar on the wart and cover it
immediately with cooking soda or sale
ratus ; put on as much soda as you can
iile on, and let it remain ten minutes,
iepeat several times a day, and in
three days tho wart will be gone. A
good remedy for corns also.
Take Seasonable Rest. Dr. Hall
says the best medicine in the world,
more efficient than all the potations of
the materia medica, are warmth, rest,
cleanliness and pure air. Some persons
make it virtue to brave disease, to
" keep up" as long as they can move a
foot or wriggle a finger, and it some
times succeeds; but in others the powers
of life are thereby so completely ex
hausted that the system has lost all
ability to recuperate, and slow and ty
phoid fever sets in and carries the
patient to a premature grave. Whenever
working or work is an effort, a warm
bed and cool room are the very first in
dispen sables to a sure and speedy re
covery. Instinct leads all beasts and
birds to quietude and rest the very mo
ment disease or wounds assail the sys
tem. Sleep fob Children. If you would
preserve your children from wasting dis
ease, do not stint them in their sleep ;
chlorotio girls, especially, and weakly
babies need all the rest (they can get.
If they are drowsy in the morning, let
them sleep ; it will do them more good
than stimulants and tonio sirups. For
6chool-children in their teens, eight
hours of quiet sleep is generally enough,
but do not restrict them to fixed hours ;
in midsummer there should be a siesta
corner in every house, a lounge or an
old mattress in the coolest nook of the
hall, or a hammock in the shade of the
porch, where the little ones can pass
the sleep-inviting afternoons. Nor is it
necessary to send them to bed at the
very time when all nature awakens from
the torpid influence of the day-star;
sleep in the atmosphere of a stifling
bedroom would bring no rest and no
pleasant dreams. But an hour after
sunset there will be a change ; the night
wind arises and the fainting land re
vives ; cool air is a f ebrif age and na
ture's remedy for the dyspeptic influen
ces of a sultry day. Open every win
dow, and let your children share the
luxury of the last evening hour ; after
breathing the fresh night air for a while
they will sleep in peace. Popular Sci
ence Monthly.
To Relieve Hiccough. A medical
journal gives the following simple means
of relieving hiccough: Inflate the lungs
as fully as possible, and thus press
firmly on the agitated diaphragm. In
a few seconds the spasmodio action pf
the muscle will cease.
The Work or Volcanoes.
Cotopaxi, in 1738, threw its fiery
conte s 3,000 feet above its crater,
while in 1724 the blazing mass, strug
gling for an outlet, roared so that its
awful voice was heard at a distance of
more than 600 miles. In 17'J7 the cra
ter of Tunguragua, one of the great
peaks of the Andes, flung out torrents
of mud, which dammed up the rivers,
opened new lakes, and in valleys
1,000 feet wide made deposits GOO feet
deep. The stream from Vesuvius,
which in 1773 passed through Terro
del Greco, contained 33,000,000 cubic
feet of solid matter ; and in 1793, when
Terro del Greco was destroyed a second
time, the mass of lava amounted to
43,000,000 cubic feet.
In 17C0 iEtna poured forth a flood
which covered eighty-four square miles
of surface. On this occasion the sand
and scoria formed the Monte Rosini,
near Nicholosa, a cone of two miles in
circumference, and 400 feet high. The
stream thrown out at 12tna in 1810 was
in motion at the rate of one yard per
day for nine months after the eruption,
and it is on record that the lava of the
same mountain, after a terrible erup
tion, was not thoroughly cool and con
solidated for ten years after the event
In the eruption of Vesuvius, A. D.
79, the scoria and ashes vomited forth,
far exceeded the entire bulk of ttie
mountain ; while in 1800 iEtna dis
gorged more than twenty times its own
mass. Vesuvius has sent its ashes as
far as Constantinople, Syria and Egypt ;
it hurled stones eight pounds in weight
to Pompeii, a distance of six miles,
while similar masses were tossed up
2,000 feet above the summit. Cotopaxi
has projected a rock of 100 cubic yards
in volume nine iniles ; and Sumbawa,
in 1843, during the most terrible erup
tion on record, sent its ashes as far as
Java, a distance of 300 miles of surface,
and, out of a population of 12,000 souls,
only twenty escaed.
On the fourth of July next we may
expect to pick up a morning paper and
read that "The snow-storm in Wiscon
sin, Iowa and Minnesota yebterday was
the heaviest of t -. aeason." I he West
has had the "Lvmcst snow-storm of
the season " every week since the first
of March. yrriiitoun Herald.
Barren mountains are not worth
as ' -id.
Two Jonraeya.
" I go on a Journey far away,"
He Raid and he stooK)d and kiiwed me then
" Over the ocean for many a day
Good-bye," and he kitwed me once aain.
But only a few short months had fled
When again I answered my husband's kiss;
" I could, not tarry away," he said;
"Thoro is never a laud as fair aa this."
Again I stood by my husband's side.
"I go on a Journey, sweet, to-day;
Over the river the boatmen glide-Good-bye;
I shall linger long away."
Ah, ho will come back soon, I know,"
I said, as he stooped for the parting kiss:
"Ho cannot tarry, he told me so;
There is never a land so fair as this."
But many a month and many a year
Have flown since my darling went awr.y.
Will he never come back to meet me here?
Has he found the region of porfect day?
Over the ocean he weut and came;
Over the river, and lingers therel
Oh, pallid boatman! call my name
Show me the region so wondrous fair.
Th Araoxy.
HUMOR OF THE PAY.
Old as the hills The valleys between
them.
After some jocular remarks the Senate
adjourned. New Haven Register.
The editor of the Oil City Dei-rick
claims to have a country seat. It is a
stump.
Miss Annie L. got married, and now
they speak of her as an Annie-mated
young lady.
Soldiersfrre always the most adept
lovers, because they learn to present
arms and salute.
It is peculiar hew sound a man sleeps
when his wife crawls over him on her
way to the kitchen to moke a tire.
The maple sugar days have come, the
sweetest of the year; whefl Bugar is
down cellar made, and sold so dreadful
dear.
Since 18G6 9,000 divorces have be6ii N
granted in Italy, Milan being set down
for nO less than 3,000. Since 1870 Rome
has had COO.
Wnen a Canadian farmer sheathes a
lump of lard within a half-inch coating
of "creamery" he calls it galvanized but
ter. New Haven Register.
It is a noticeable fact that a hog has
to be killed before he ia cured. This
is true of two-legged hogs as well as of
quadrupeds. Boston Post.
The New York Sun says that a man
with mutton-chop whiskers need have
no fears of the future. He can always
strike a job as coachman.
The New YoikAdvertiser believes that
men would have more luck fishing if
they bought live trout and put 'em in a
bathtub and fished with a sieve.
The f t mfi to try to fast forty days
was a her6, t second an imitator, and
of subsequent on-s the public simply re
mark : "The poor deluded fools."
No man ought to complain if the
world measures him as lie measures
others.. To measure one with his own-yard-stick
may bo hard, but is fair.
"There is no disgrace in being poor,"
wo are told. And we're howling glad
of it, for there are enough other disad
vantages about it without that one.
Adirondack Murray has been sold out
of his last personal property by the
sheriff, and hasn't even a clothes-line
left to tie him to any neighborhood. .
" The harp that once through Tara's hall
The soul at musio shod,"
Upon the street now caterwauls,
To earn a padrone's bread.
Indianapolui U&'ald.
Births, marriages and deaths are re-
fovted by an Illinois paper under the
ead of "Hatched, Matched, Snatched."
But it could save type and expense by
using the words "Bed, Wed, Dead.'
instead.
Dampening! Old Triggs "Hello,
Jones, got your feet- sopping wet,
haven't you? Why don't you weai
rubbers, as I do? I haven't wet mt
feet for six months." Jones " Well, 1
should think you'd be ashamed to bay
so."
The New York Uraphio has ' about
banished the nuisance of tall hats at the
theaters. It remarked that homely
women looked best in high liata, and
now all the ladies are trying to show
that they are not dependeut on tall hats
for their beauty.
A Rapid Exit from China.
The Chinese, said Professor Draper
to a New York reporter, paid great at
tention to astronomy in ante-historical
times, anil they have always linked
their knowledge of astronomy with
astrology. Historical events were noted
by their writers as taking place w Kile
the stars held certain relations to each
other. Speaking of astrology in China,
I am reminded of the unceremonious
way in which the late lamented Profes
sor Watson, of Ann Arbor university,
Michigan, was compelled to quit the
Chinese empire about the time of the
transit of Venus a few years ago. Pro
fessor Watson, with another well-known
astronomer, was at the Chinese cupital.
Tho emperor of China was taken sick
with the smallpox, and he died after a
bhort illness. Tne event was looked
upon, as all greut event a are in China,
aa influenced by the stars, and it be
came uoisod'ubroad that the two distin
guished astronomers had so influenced
the btars as to cause the einpeiur'.-,
death. Thf viceroy, who did not h! .
tho popular belief, quietly informed 1
astronomers that they might Iom
!ive if they did not go ai!y. 'i !
rwtv-l ia tie that.