vlty crrst Kwita J. n. WENK. Office In Bmearbangh i Co.'i BniMing, oI.M'BTREET, - TI0NE3TA, TA. tkums, 91.00 rEix yeah. Ko subscriptions received for a shorter period tlmn three month. CorrpujioiKlenno solicited from all part of Hit ri'iuitry, No untie will betaken of anonymous (tommimientioim. RATE3 op ADViirar:r:;a fl Oni ft-jnam, wis Inch, one In" One 8nare, ono Inch, one nvtb- One fcunare, one inch, three month One Square, one inch, on year. ........ Two Sqtmrps, ono year. Qnartor Column, on yew. ....... ;r rfinrfPftTii i rn n n i n i frmnm M 00 IS 00 1M 19 Half Column, one yew............ One Column, one your........ rgl notice at enUMliihed rata. Marriage and death notice gmtta. All bill for yearly advartisemana ooSm4 quarterly. Temporary advertiseroesrte nut be paid for in advance. Job work, oaab on delivery. Vol, XV. No. 18. TIONESTA, PA. WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 2, 1882. $1.50 Per Annum. Christian Foth's Story. (fitnttcart, May, 18S1 I've culled, Mr. Consul, Ihli morning, to ek, Lf yon please, yonr adnce On a matter that gtvee me peat worry " Let ' hear It (want money I know)." Ilere'! my cltlien-paper ("All right")! waaborn In the Bcbwarawalder Era., At Schrsmberg, and went to America forty-fly year. ago. Tee, I'm rear seventy now, and you see that my it-p la nnsteady JTenly of trouble, I tell yon I fettled m North Illinois, And there, ever alnce, I've been working and wr ing np, ao that already I re got a nice farm, Mr. Con.ul, that goes.by-nd bye to my boy. Hfow many children T There' four, three boy. and a glri. We're had seven ; But when tha war came along, my William and Carl marched away. Both of them fell on tha Held, and last winter the good Lord in Heaven Called home onr dear iittla Minnie he's twelve years old to-day, . Tea, the old woman is living. She's there with the boys on the place. And onr Llna keeps boo. for them all. Next ptiiig ahe'Il be jait twenty-four. Che's tb handsomest girl In the connty; there's sunshine ail over her face ; 1 ean bear eves now her sweet voice as she told me farewell at tb door. Why I left Well, perhaps, Mr. Conn), twere bet ter the trath weren't told. Bnt oo matter It wasn't my fault. My old woman and I bad a fight. Ph U sick and cant work any more, and .he' idle We're both getting old ; Sg (he's cross, and will have it that I'm always wrong and that she's always right It taunt been always that way. In the days when we worked for our bread And tasdnt a dollar laid by In the bank, aha and I were all good And bappy together; bnt since w began to be get ting ahead . She has tried to be boas over me, and I dldnt In tend that she should. And when onr poor dear Minnie died, I had hoped that the fight would die, too, t But no I It lived on Just tb same, and one day, about four week ago. The old woman sent out for a lawytr, and then, for the first time, I knew That she wanted to separate from me from nu, who bare borne with her so. And. the boys they, all tried to make peace; h would listen to naught that they said, Bnt my Una stood np by my side though she .poke not, twas easy to see, As ah put her sweet arms round my neck and rested her beantlf ul bead Cb my breast, that her dear heart was fall of too tendcrest pity for me. And I (aid: "My Christina, we've labored and (trugglcd together till now ; Onr children are grown, and yon want ns to aepa i - rate, now we are old T No lawyer can part u, Christina, no lawyer can sever onr vow, But I'D. leave you and go forth alone on my way m through the rain and the cold." Then my poor Llna cried, and abe bade me re flect, and the boys they said " BUy I" And I panacd for a moment and looked at .Chris tina abe said not a word. One word wonld have kept me. But no, it came not, and I hurried away. And my Una's sweet voice, "Oh, dear father, come . bCck," wa the last that I heard. And so I have wandered back here to the scene of my childhood and youth ; Have stood by the grave of my father and mother ' have seen the old home On the hllltld at Schramberg and yet, Mr. Consul, to tell yon the truth, I And that I cannot be happy while far from tai lored one I roam. For my iweot Una' words, u Oh, dear father, come back," always ring In my eaft, And I'm going this day ; bat for fear there should come on the Journey some ill, There's no telling, yon know, what might happen, perchance, to a man of my years, I have corns, Mr. Consul, this morning to ask yon to draw np my will. And I want yon to make my old woman entitled to all thai I've got : In cane of my death. After all I can trust her to do what la fair By the children in case h survives me. Just say that I, Cbrlstiao Hotli " What! Is your name christian Roth ? Here', a letter ad- drtwed to you here in my care." A letter) My Una's handwriting, and postmarked at Baott, Illinois J Here, quick, hit me read It: "Bear father, my mother implores you to come, f he tenderly salts your forgiveness ; and now, she and I and the boys Are lovingly waiting your coming, and eager to welcome you home." Gtarg L, Catlin. tt IT. 99 rBOM 5TOT5 GEHMAN OF ALEX T. ROBERTS, The original of this translation, by Mrs. Rosalie OriLeik-r. of Albany, N. Y., ia a prize story written for the Vienna AllqvmttiitiZeitung. There were seven hundred and fifty contribu tions handed in, and of thoee Mr. Roberta' "It" took the firet prise, 800 florins. The judgoe were some of the moet enlightened men of German literature JJauernteld, Laube, Grose and s Vl other. Return rI ,ron business trip, I entered m... wife's boudoir, and found hr knee5 before a low-chair, on wbioh satc'TPy-taby with large, round and viont eyes. Bhe got np and came rrO V in her silken robe da chambr , me. Bhe reached out her ba'm greeted me not more heart)' were , " 11 .V,,. more formally than we - dnja. 1 10 Kr6et eao" other in tlioee I1 chu said my wife, pointing totrT Whutf'. it before r I; but stooped dovu, Jnit cJoka 'ittla stranger, held a hint I half tnirirT1 llUle upturned laoe, n 'be n. dii orxot read of ii i V-tli rl"PaP ? Don't yon remem- uurf" , ft.. ,HfM;, before he had held the Uatctto nader the li glit of roT atndent-Iamp, and point ing with ber finger to an advertisement, aaid to me: riease road that." It was the well known appeal, the err of de spair from a bleeding heart, addressed " to good people." A child waa offored !or adoption to persona well off. "What wonld you think of onr taking itf my wife had said, and I had returned the paper to her with- shrug of my shoul ders. " But, Martha, what hare you done?" cried I, in a tone vibrating with anger. "Yon have really" "Certainly, as you see. And then it belonga to me; I myself have settled everything willi the poor mother, who is in reality to be pitied. I have sworn to take good oate of it; and so I will ia deed." Bhe took the little head, with its blonde silk cnrls, between her white hands and fondled and caressed it. "Is it not so, little one? you will be loved r Bnt the somewhat sickly and delicate little face showed no sign of understand ing, except that out of the heart-shaped little month came one of those sighs that sound so strangely from children. I at once gave up all serious objec tion. Uad we not been accustomed for years to act independently of each other ? Our marriage was not a bappy one, although we had not married for love. Duiicg the noise and bustle of the crowded exchange, our fathers had contracted this union. She had to tear her heart from a beloved one, and in mine glowed a passion not yet outspoken. Bnt parental wishes conquered. We chose to be obedient children; and so it happened. At the commencement we were to each other a silent reproach; after which followed a declared war, until finally we came to a polite but gloomy peace. To be sure she was beautiful, she was good and bright and sparkling. Others called her an ngel. And IT Well, I believe that I was no monster either. The analysis showed the brightest od ors, still the sun was missing. We were six years married and had no children. Perhaps had heaven sent us them well, this child belonged entirely to her I I heard later that she had given the mother a thousand dollars, the price of a set of jewels which she sold secretly. "Why did you not tell me of it?" said I, half angrily. "Because it would have been too late if I bad waited for your return to the city ; and besides I wanted to have it entirely for myself ; I want to call it my own," said she, poutingly. My horses, my dogs ; her canaries, her gold fishes that I could endure ; but that she wanted to have her child for herself alone, that was too much for me. The thought of it tortured me one, two days long. On the third day, my wife having gone out in her carriage, there came a veiled woman and de manded entrance. It was the mother. Like a shadow she glided into the room, and, with a half-suppressed sob, begged to see her child onoe more. She could not part from him forever without imprint ing one more kiss upon his cheeks. I opened my safe quickly: "Here, my good woman," said I, " take that, they have not given yon enough." Hot tears fell down her wan cheeks; she begged me not to judge her too harshly; she had another child, a cripple and help less; she herself was siok and would not live muoh longer, and what was to be come of the children ? Then she thought I myself had to finish the sentenoe, which a violent fit of cough ing had interrupted. "Tea," she had thought, " I will sell the healthy one, in order that the money may help the cripple when I am dead and gone." No, she must not bs judged harshly; we rich ones know bnt little of the trials and temptations of the poor. when my wife returned 1 gave ner an account of the call I had had, adding that I had given to the unfortunate one exactly the same amount as she bad. "And now," said I, "yon see the child belongs to both of us. She bit her lip with her little white teeth. " It is all the same to me," said she after a moment's reflection, and with that she pressed a tender kiss on the little boy's month. It sounded almost like a challenge. Our child 1" I soarcely ever saw it. And the changes that were made in our household for his sake were made entire ly withect me. Sometimes, after the most important tniugs were decided, - ..... K.Z my consent was then asked. " We are obliged to have a nurse, I hired one. Anselm" 1 nodded suentiy " we must fit np a nursery ; that room is too warm for the child." I nodded silently, but I heard the sound of the workmen, who were already busy in the hall Vhat5onld I do better ? Was it not all done for our child ? My wife and I did not talk much abont the child, and when we did men tionitwe used only the name "If But this " It" could be heard through the house at almost any time of the day. " Hush ! not so much noise I It Bleeps! It must have its dinner. It should be taken out for a drive. It has hurt it self 1" And so the whole house began to turn round our " It." This nameless neuter vexed me. " It must have its own name," said I, one day. " I entirely forgot to ask the mother I mean the woman what its name is," answered my wife. "She intended to oome again. But tthe does not come, (she in certainly siak. Now, I call it Max. Max is a pietty, fihort name; is it not V" "Him," returned I, between to t. -f my c;"-r; " I'ritr wo'-ll also be a quite pretty name." "One cannot change the name now on ac count of the domestios," answered she, shortly; and then called out loudly: "Is Max no alroady?" Never mind. was it not our child i Once, though, I played my justifiable part toward our child. At dinner it was always served at a little table in an ad- Joining room. At snob times we could tear, between the scantily-dropping phrases of our conversation its merry rattling, accompanied by tue clatker og of its spoon. My wife had no rest; there was a continual going and coming between ns and him; tho soup might be too hot and be might eat too much I "Wife," said I, very quietly but very decidedly, "from to-morrow it shall eat With us at our table. It is old enough now with its two years." from that time on It" atelwitnins. Be sat there in his high chair like a prince, close to my wife; both opposite to me like declared enemies, as it were. The yellowish paleness of poverty had yielded to a fine aristocratic pink in his little cheeks, which, now becoming quite chubby, sat comfortable'on the stiff folds of the napkin. It worked Eowerfully at its soup; and now that it ad finished, set up the spoon like a scep ter in its little round fist on the table. My wife and i Lad exchanged a Tew words. and now again we sat silent Apparently on account of this silenoo, its large eyes began to open wider and wider. They stared on me, stared at my wife, with a surprised, almost frightened expression, as if they had a presentiment that all was not right between us. I confess that these eyes embarrassed me, and that I had a feeling : of relief when Frederiok entered with a dish. And I think that my wife felt the same. And the following days there were the same large, wondering eyes, like an appealing question, staring into the pauses of our conversation. It sounds ridiculous, but it is nevertheless true; we were culprits before the child, we two grown persons I And by degrees onr conversation became more ani mated. The occasional prattlings of the little ono were noticed and spoken about; indeed sometimes there was mutual laughter at his attempts to speak. An I how light, bow bell-like pure sounded her laughter! Had I never then heard that before ? And what was the matter with me, that I sometimes bent over my writing desk, listening, as though I heard from a distance these same silvery tones f With the first sunny spring days "It" began to play in the garden, which I could overlook from my seat in my office. She was generally with him. I could hear the sound of his little feet on the pebbles, and then her footsteps. Now she would playfully chase him, and a chorus of twittering sparrows would join their notes with the merry laughter. Now she wonld catch him and kiss his cheeks over and over. Once I ooened mv window: a warm, balsamio air streamed around me and a butterfly fluttered in and lit on my inkstand Just then she came out of a green, vine grown bower; she was dressed in dazzling white negligee, trimmed with oostly laoe; all over her streamed the golden sunshine, except that her face was overshadowed by the pink of her parasoi. How slim she appeared ! how graceful in her movements ! Had I been blind ? Truly the aunts and cousins were right; she was in reality beautiful I A sweet smile transformed her features; she was happy certainly in this moment she was and ber happiness came from her child. Then a voice made itself heard in my breast, which Raid very plainly "You are a monster ?' I got np and walked to the window. "Itxsabeauti f nl day,"called I. I know how cold and prosaic it must have sounded to her. It came like a heavy cloud-shadow over a sunny landscape. She answered some thing that I did not understand: but the brightness was gone from her little face. Then she took up the child, who was stretching out his arms to her, And kissed and caressed him before my eyes. There it was when the first feeling of jealousy was aroused in me; a jealousy truly, but what a strange jealousy, which could not make clear to itself who was its object! If "It" said "mamma" to ber, there came a pain in the heart; and the caresses with which she overwhelmed him almost drove me wild. I was jealous of both! It pained me that I had no part in this weaving of love; that I was not the third in the union. I exerted myself to gain a part of their love. I did it very clumsily. The child persevered in a certain shyness, and she had I not kept myself forcibly away from her during these long, long years? One day at the dinner-table, after a. skirmish of words, came a great still ness between us, a stillness more pain ful than it bad ever been. I glanced down at the flowers on my plate of Saxon porcelain, my displeasure showing in my fdtse; bnt I folt plainly that It" bad its eyes fixed on me, and also her eyes! It was as if those four eyes bnrned on my forehead. Then sound ed suddenly in the stillness, " Papa 1" and again londer and more courageous, "Papal" I shuddered. "It "sat there and stared, now very much frightened, over at me, wondering, perhaps, whether a storm would be raised by its "Papa." But her face was suffused with glowing redness, and her half open lips trembled slightly. There came a flood of gladness over my heart. Certainly no one but her h-id taught him thin " Papa." Why did I rot sjiring np, bound toward her, and v ;'! c,e vorJ, one tmbraoo, ilriko out the loneliness of these last six years T One right word in this moment and all would have been welL It remained unspoken ; I seemed to have lost all power to act I btlt On A certain page of my ledger are still traces of the tears I shed in anger at my own stupidity. There was no doubt about it ; another spirit had stepped in with its little curly head the spirit of love ; and that made me a stranger in my own house. A precious sunshine brightened the rooms, even when the one in the heavens was hidden by clouds. The face of the servants and even inanimate objects streamed back this radiance. But me, only, the sunshine did sot touch. I felt myself always more and more unhappy in my loneliness. Jealousy grew in me ; it gave me all sorts of foolish thoughts. I wanted to rebel against the little autocrat, but that would be ridiculous. I wanted to give her the choice between him and me. I, audacious one. I knew very well which side her heart would choose. At another time I was ready to take steps in order to find the mother, and, with the power of gold, force her to take baok her child behind my wife's back. That wonld be cowardly. I could no longer fix my mind on business. I mistrusted even myself. People asked what was the matter with me. I feigned illness. The sunshine would not let itself be banished, and the spirit of love was stronger than I. With his flaming sword he drove me out. " I must take long journey, Martha." My voice trembled as I said this. My wife must have noticed it; for something like moist, shining pity shone in her beautiful eyes. At my taking leave she held the little one toward me and asked in soft, caressing tones: "Will you not say adieu to our child ?' I took up the little one, perhaps too roughly; at all events, he began to cry and resist my caresses. Then I put him down and hastened away. I traveled in uncertainty through the world and behold ! after the first few days in addition to an ordinary travel ing companion, bad bnmor, there came another fellow who told me plainly that I was a fool. First it sounded like a whisper, then londer and louder: "You are a downright fool." Finally, I read it in the newspaper before me; it was traced on the blue mountains; the loco motive shrieked it to me. Yes, I be lieved it; why did I not then and there turn my face homeward ? ' Well, the fool mnst first travel it all off before everything would be right again. At last, one day, with a violent beat ing of the heart, I again entered my dwelling. What a solemn stillness reigned there 1 I could now hear the sound of whispering voioes; my wife came toward me: " It is very sick. very sick," moaned she, " It will surely die r I tried to comfort ber. only a short time, however, proved that her fears were bn too well grounded. During the night we both sat by the little bed: she there and I here. Each of ns holding one of his little hands. Ahl those feverish pulse beats! every stroke sounding like an appeal: " Love each other, love each other; be goodl" We felt eventually these th robbings and we understood the appeal. Our eves met full and earnest throngh the glittering tears, as in a first holy tow, Words would have seemed a sacrilege then. ' Not long after we laid our darling in the warm spring earth. When we again eat down at onr table there was a stillness between us; but it was not the same stillness as that which the little stranger bad broken in upon with bis parting "Papa." liy the wall stood his high arm-chair, and on the little board before it lay his spoon scepter. My wife reached ber fine, white hand over the table, and asked: " Did you also love it 7 at least a little?' Her voioe trembled. "Mv wife ! my sweet, my own wife I" called I. Then I fell at her feet and held her hands fast in mine. " I love thee, my wife, oh, wife!" After the first emotion had subsided I pointed to the arm chair: " The little one came to teach us love," whispered I. " And when it had finished its teach ing it went again to the angels," added she, throngh ber tears. One day the physician stepped out of my wife's room, with a smiling faoe. He touched the little arm-chair as he passed it, saying: "Let it stand there; you will need it again." Really? Was it possible? Had I de served Euob happiness? As I held my wife close to my heart in my irrepressible joy, I could not for bear to bend down to ner blushing little face, and say: " We will love it dearly, very dearly. Is it not so ?" Peter U elm's Gratitude. Peter Helm was menaced by a mob near Fort Wayne, Ind., twenty years ago. - He had killed a popular man in a drunken wrangle and was in iniminen danger of being lynched. He had sum moned John li Farrar, a lawyer, bnt the crowd was inclined to hang the prisoner without listening to his coun sel. In this emergency Farrar drew his client aside as if for consultation, and then advised him to run for the woods which were close by. Helm did so and was not caught. - The lawyer got no fee and narrowly escaped vicarious lynch ing. He never heard of Helm again until recently, when be received a let ter from Mexico containing a draft for $500, with the information that the fugitive bad become a sucotsBfrJ coCee J pluntt.-r. ARCTIC HEROES- The fertliarie Displayed by D lnar and Ills Companions Leval la the trfint. The diary of Lieutenant De Long, found beside Tiis body, extends from Ootober 1 to October 30, 1881. It is the record of terrible suffering borne with indomitable, heroism and ending in death. There is not in literature a nobler or more pathetic story. De Long and hii men died of cold and hunger. They supported life during thirty days by the adoption of every means known to shipwrecked men except cannibalism. No one seems toj nave thought of that horrible expedient At first they bad a little dog meat, and they managed to shoot two or three ptar migans ; then they were reduced to tea made of willow twigs and to alcohol. At last they gnawed the leather of their boots and bits of deer-skin, and then, too weak to continue their march, lay down to die. They were slowly dying of starvation for fully three weeks, and in this condition had to resist as best they could the terrible cold. Through it all they never lost their courage. "All hands weak and feeble, but cheer ful," wrote De Long, when it must have been oerfectlv clear that nothing bnt a miracle conld save the party from death. There is not a line m the whole diary of complaint or murmuring against God or man. It too often baoDens that disoinline vanishes among shipwrecked men, and that the selfish desire for life leads to inhumanity, if not to actual crime. There is no such stain in the story of the orew of the Jeannette. De Long seems to have maintained his authority unquestioned to the last, and his men evidently shared his generous spirit For days they dragged a sick comrade with them lashed to a sled, and never seem to have thought of abandoning him in order to increase their own chances of reaching a settlement The officers and men never manifested the slightest hesitation between duty and selfishness. They clnng together and helped one another loyally while living, and so long as the survivors bad strength their dead comrades were given Christian burial. There was ap parently no difference in the bearing and devotion of De Long, the Amen can, Enckson the Dane or Ah Sam the Ohinaman. Every man of the little band was a hero, knowing how to do his duty and doing it with unflinching faith fulness. In their distress the shipwrecked men turned lor help to Crd. in Ue Long's diary there is constant mention of religions services. When the faith ful Alexy was dying the surgeon bap tized him, and when all hope had gone we are told that "all hands united in saying the Lord's prayer and Creed." The humble, cheerful trust in Clod and submission to His will, of which De Long's diary gives constant evidence, show us that it was a band of (JtsiiHtiim heroes that perished in the Siberian snow. Bitterly as we may at first Bigot re gret that so many noble lives have been lost, the men of the jeannette s crew did not dio in vain. Their fate suggests that beautiful passage in the prayer book where we thank God for those who have departed this life in His fear. DeLong and his men have made us prouder of our humanity. They have shown us to what sublime heights of heroism educated officers and ignorant seaman can alike attain. They have given an example of calm and cheerful performance of duty which is without price. Thev have shown us once more that faith in God can survive all suffer ing. Let ns thank God for the life and death of these heroio men. It is im possible that their heroism can fail to bear its priceless and perennial frnit But let us have no more oontly saori floes of life in the vain search for the pole. It is idle ns wel 1 as ungenfcrons to blame the projectors of the Jeannette expedition for its disastrous failure TLe vessel was to follow a route hither to untried, and there was ample justifi cation for testing the question whether the pole conld be reached by that route. Exploration becomes unjustifiable only when it is demonstrated that the end sought cannot be attained in spite of every effort and saorifioe. When !the Jeannette sailed it had not been de monstrate! that the pole could not be reachod by steering northward fromWrangell Land, tier experience has now proved that the ice barrier is as impenetrable in that direotion as it is wherever else It bos been attaoked The chances that the pole can never be reached are now so infinitesimally small that we are not justified in wasting any more Uvea in polar expeditions. To send out another expedition wonld show a reckless (indifference to humnn lire of which any nation ought to do ashamed. Let us close the record of hopeless heroism ar.d useless suffering in the frozen sea with the story of the noblest of all the Arctic heroes, George W. Do Long. new York Jim's. Countered on the Doctor. Dr. Louis, of New Orleans, who is something of a wag, called on a colored minister, and propounded a few puzzling questions. " Why is it," said he, "that you are not able to do the miracles that the Apostles did ? They wera x cected against all poisons and all nds of perils. How is it you are v' .otooted now in the same way V Tho colored pr esponded promptly : " Don't . .. oout that doctor. I speot I is. X'vo taken a mighty Right of strong medicine from you, doctor, and I is aUve yet" Every rnn is occusicoially what ha ought to be perpetually. Life's Lcmoo. ired? Well, what of that? I fanoy life was spent on beds of eaae. Fluttering the roee loaves scattered ty toa breeze? Come, reuse tbee ! Work while It is called day 'Coward, arise I Oo forth upon thy way. Lonely? And what of that? Some must be lonely; 'tis not given to all To feel a heart responsive rise and fall, To bland another life into its own. Work may be done In loneliness. Work on I Dark ? Well, what of that T Didst fondly dream the sun wonld never eet ? Dont foar to lose thy way T Take courage yek Learn tbou to walk by faith, and not by aight Thy steps will guided be, and guided riRht. Hard? Well, what of that ? Didst fancy life one summer holiday ? With lessons none to learn and naught but play? Go, get thee to thy task. Conquer or die 1 It must be learned; learn it, then, patiently. HUMOR Or THE DAY. Has it ever occurred to baseball men that a milk pitcher is generally ft good flycatcher? "Isms broken man," said a poet "Well," said his friend, "I inferred that from your pieces." A babe," says a writer, "is n mother's anchor." We . have ofUa beard that the first thing she does is to weigh it It makes very little difference what the weather may be in other parts of the country in April and May, they always have Hot Springs in Arkansas. " What makes Colonel so pop ular ? I'm sure he's very stupid. He can hardly see beyond his nose," said a lady to a friend, who replied: "My dear, sharp-eightedness is npt what makes a person popular. It is what the colonel doesn't see that gives him snob, popular ity." There are a number oi cir cum stances that will take the conceit out of a man, and one of the chief is, after tacing a turn up the street end judging by the way they look at you that you are making a stunning impression on the girls, to find on your return that your bat has been on wrong side loremost an the time. The notion was prevalent - in tbe Middle Ages that the diamond, taken internally, is a deadly poison. Ben venuto Cellini details an attempt to poison him by causing diamond powder to be mixed with his salad, an attributes bis escape to the rascality of the lapidary employed, who kept the diamond, and administered powdered glass. "This is a funny doctrine!" exclaimed Brown, who had been reading of metem psychosis. "The idea of the human bouI entering the body of an animal ! According to this doctrine, my soul, after I get throngh with it, may inhabit the body of a jaokasfiP "And why not?" asked Fogg, demurely! "It wonld cer tainly feel more at home there than anywhere else." Some years ago. at a pnouo dinner, a Dntohman. just from Holland, was one of the company; and during the banquet be paid so muoh attention to a roasted sucking-pig immediately in fiont of his plate that be devoured the entire ani mal. As be nnisnea me loss morsel, unotuous and savory, a bnstbng waiter asked him what he would Ike to bo helped to next. "Oh," replied the feeder, "I'll dank yon for von more of dem leetle hoksl" A commercial traveler, who Is some thing of a wag, thus relates his ex perience: lie and ms companions were tbe sole occupants of the smoking car. They tried to converse, but the road was so rough they were pitched . from side to aide like a ship's passes gars. At last they were able to make each other understood. One said, "Dan, the old thing is running smoother." To which Dan replied: "Yes, I guess she lias got off the track." SUCH is Line. A girl, A whirl, A dance, A g'ance, Some coy, ooquettibh intrigue, . A walk, A talk, A sweet Itetreat, A pensive sigh half stifling. Agate, Quite late, Oh, bliaa, Akisal What would my mamma say, air T A tulck ash stick, A whack I My back I "You're getting quite too gay, sir." Conversation turned on a late car riage between December and Mny, soma Of the gentlemen pooh-poohing the match. But the lady stoutly cham pioned the frostbitten Benedict "Why, said she, "every man ought to keep himself married as long as he lives. Now, here's my husband I What would v . v, far without a wife? II 1 should die to-night he would get another wife to-morrow, I nope. Wouldn't you, Josiah ?" Josiah breathed heavily and seemed to sum up the con nubial torment of. a lifetime in his calm response: "No. my drar, I think I should take a rest I" A mm never looks so likea red-Lan 1- . ... i ia .-,!,! hi the I - ed villain as wubu u -j . togrei-Lsr to "look pleasant. 0
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers