1 Cljc orrst lirpMioia If rri.iYD int vroxnciT, in J. 1 WENK. OQ In Smesrbsngh A Go.'s Bn!ldtn ELM STREET, . TI0NE3TA, PA. TICIIMB, l,GO J'Kll YE ATI. No subscriptions received for a shorter period II. nn three month. Correspond en oo solicited from all parts of lbs country. No notice will betuken of anoaymoM onmruimlostions. . KATES OF ADVERTISING. One P'inare, one Inch, one insertion... Ii One Square, one inch, one month..... I One Squnro, one inch, three monthi... W One Square, one inch, one year........ j Two Bipinre, one year W nnrter Column, one year Half Column, one year "",a2S One Column, one year. liecnl notices nt established rate. MMrriiiin and riath notice rratis. All bilia for yearly advertisement collet4 quarterly. Temporary advertisement most be paid in advance. Job work, cash on delivery VOL. jo. a' TIONESTA, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1884. $1.50 PER ANNUM. S w M WINTER ON EARTH, BUT JUNE IN THE SKY. Plow throiiRh the light and silent air, Vp clhnnt the smoke on Its spiral (lair The visible flight of eomo mortal's prayer; The trees are In blojin with tho flowers of fl-0.it, Put never a feathery leaf is lost; The spring, descending, is caught and bound Era It silver feet can touch tho ground: So (till U the air that lies, this morn, Over the snow-cold Holds forlorn, Tin an though Italy's honven smiled In the face of some bleak Norwegian wild; ( And the heart in me sings 1 knf "not why ' TU Winter on earth, but Juno iJ Byl June in the sky I Ah, now I can see) The souls of roses about to be, In gardens of heaven beckoning me, Hoses red-lipped, and roses pale, Fannd by the tremulous ether gale; Borne of them climbing a window-ledge, Borne of them peering from way-side hedge,' As yonder, adrift on the aery stream, Ixive drives his plumed and filleted team; The Angel of Rummer aloft I see, And the souls of roses about to be! And the heart in me sings the heart knows why v Tia Winter on earth, but June in the sky I Edith M. Thomas, MEADOW FARM. Mary Miller came homo from tho fac tory, upon that April evening, with a light, quick stop. Tho sky was nil a jonquil glow ; tho frogs were croaking in tho swamp ; tho maples were crimsoned with theircarlicst banners of blossom; and, oh she, tripped long, Mary found a tuft of violets, half hidden under a drift of dend leaves pale purple, scentless blooms!. "Tho first violets always bring good luek with them," she whispered to her self, as sho pinned them into the bosom of her blue flannel gown. "Home" was scarcely tho ideal realiza tion of that poetic word to our factory girl. She mid her mother lived in the upper half of a shabby, unpuinted wooden house, with the blacksmith's scolding wife and seven riotous children down stairs, and ono-half of a tramplcd-down back yard by way of garden, where noth ing ever grew but burdocks, nettles and Mrs. Muggs' long-legged fowls. But Mjs. Miller, .who had been a school-teacher once, . and still retained somewhat of the rellncmcnt of her early education, had tho tea ready, with a shaded lamp and a bunch of maple, blos soms on tho table, ready for Mary to come home. "Good news, mother!" the girl cried, lightly. "Tho Meadow furni is to let ! Mother, wo must take it." Mrs. Miller looked dubiously at tho bright, eager face, with its blue-gray eyes and fringes of yellow hair. "Can we allord it, daughter?" she said, slowly. "A whole house and a farm of forty-threc acres?" "It isn't such a very large house, moth er 1" pleaded Mary, as she laid the bunch of violets in her mother's lap "not so many more rooms than we have here. And wo could keep two cows, and I could sell milk nntl butter, and spring chickens and eggs; and I am almost sure that Will Davidge would work the farm on shares. And only think, mother, how delightful it would be to have a homo all to ourselveSj where we couldn't hear Mrs. Muggs boxing Bobby's cars, or Helen slirieking with the toothache! And a little garden, mother, where we could have peonies and hollyhocks, and nil those lovely, old-fashioned flowers that your seul delights in!" "Mrs. Miller's palo faco softened. "It would be a great temptation, Mol ly," she said. "It is a month now since old Mrs. Dab ney died, said Mary. "And they say that her daughter in the city and her son out in California despise the old farm, with its one-story house and its old red barn. Bo it is to let. And so cheap, top! Only a hundred and fifty dollars a year! Mother, we must take it! I'll leave tho factory and turn dairy-maid. I've saved enough, you know, to buy tho two cows and some real Plymouth Hock fowls to begin with, and, oh, it will be such a happiness I Bay yes mother do say yes I" When Mary Miller pleaded like this, the gentle widow never knew how to re fuse; and tho upshot of it was that they leased tho old Dabney house, and became co-sovereigus of the realm of Meadow farm. It was their first night there. Over head the young May moon shone through a veil of purple mist. A solitary owl hooted in the chestnut-wood back of the house, for Meadow farm was situated on a lonely mountain-side where no one ' ever came except on special business. The Plymouth Hock thickens were safely shut up where foxes could not reach them nor minks steal in to. bleed their young lives away; tho cows two fine young Alderncys were chew ing their cud back of the old red barn, and Mary Miller had , flung a handful of cedar-sticks on the ticarth, where tbeir scented blaze illumi- ' nated tho old kitchen with a leaping brightness beautiful to see. "Because it's just possible that tho house may bo damp," she said, "after being uninhabited so long. There, mother, isn't that cheerful ? And isu't it nice that our old rag-carpet should chance to fit this floor so exactly ?" with a satisfied downward glance. "And do you see those tiger-lilies ? I found them down by the garden-wall oh, such u red wilderness of them! Old Mrs. Dabney set them out herself, they say. It seems only yesterday," she added, thought fully, "that I came past here and saw old Mrs. Dabney sittir in the big tbuir by the Ere, UBt whet- Mrs. Miller uttered a little-hr'u k uud irrasDcd her daughter's u7iu id lLi ii- ment. Mary stopped short, with an ashy pallor overspreading her cheek. For as siio spoke, tho door opposite hnd opened, and a very little old woman, silver-haired and shriveled likcamummy, came in, nnd, walking across tho floor, seated herself in Mrs. Dabney's very cor ner. An old woman dressed in tho snuff colored gown which Mrs. Dabney hnd always worn, and wearing a snuff-silk cap, whilo a bag depended from her arm. "It's cold, luiltes, ' she said, looking around with a deprecating air. "Cold for tho season of tho year. And they don't keep fires at Tewkstown !" "Mother," said Mary, recovering her self with a hysterical gasp of relief. "It isn't old Mrs. Dabney's gliost at all. It's old Miss Abby) come back from tho Tewkstown poor-house." "You don't mean " began tho mild widow. "That Mrs. Daniel Dabney and Mrs. Everard Klberson let their old aunt go to the poor-house?" said Alary Miller. "Yes, it is quite true. Mrs. Daniel leads j society in San Francisco, I am told, and Mrs. Klberson is a grand lady in Bridge port, with a reception day and servants in livery. What could they do with a half crazy old aunt, who takes snuff and talks uncertain grammar?. Poor Miss Abby I Sho has wandered buck to her old homo. Sho was eighty last birthday, and things are all misty and vague to her." "But what shall wo do?" said Mrs. Miller, in accents of perplexity. "A crazy woman here it don't seem just right, Molly, does it?" "I'll tako her back, after she has rested a little, and had a cup of tea," said Mary, cheerily. "But perhaps sho won't go." "Oh, yes, she will," said Mary. "Poor Miss Abby! She is as gentle as a child." Her words proved to bo correct. Miss Abby Dabney suffered herself to be led uuremonstratingly back to Tewkstown poor-house, where the matron read her a shrill-voiced lecture, and declared she should not be allowed another grain of snuff if she couldn't behave better. Old Miss Abby smiled deprenatingly. "They are peculiar people here," she said. "I think, my dear," to Mary Mil ler, "they forget sometimes I am a lady. But intakes nil sorts, don't you see, to make a world." Tho next night, however, lust as Mary and her mother were sitting down to tea, Miss Abby once more appeared, in tho midst of a gentle shower of rain. "I hope I don't inconvenience any body,'' she said, meekly. "But that woman at Tewkstown has cut off my al lowance of snuff, and, after all, there's no place like home." And once more Mary Miller patiently walked back with the poor old crone to tho poor-house. The matron was infuri ated this time. "It ain't in human natur' to stand this," sho declared. "I'll put her in the jug." "'The jug?" repeated Mary, in surprise. "It's a room, down cellar, where we shut up tho troublesome cases," said tho matron. "I can't stand this running away business, ond I won't!" The jug, perhaps, proved efficacious, for old Miss Abby Dabney did not ap pear again for a week. At the expiration of that period, however, she crept noise lessly in, just nt dusk, and seated herself like a silent shadow in the chimey cor ner. " It is so good t'o be at home again," 6aid she, rubbing her wrinkled hands. " I somehow seem to get lost of late. Klnathau is cone, and Betsey is gone, and I'm left hero all alone. Yes, a cup of tea, pleuse sugar and no milk. They never remember how I like my tea nt Tewkstown. I Ins is good ; and but ter on my bread, too ! Wre don't get but ter at Tewkstown." Mary burst into tears. " Motherllsaid she, " Miss Abby shall not t'o bRfK to Tewkstown she shall stay here ! Mother, how should I ' feel if you were wandering friendless and alone through the world ? ' "But, my dear " " She shall sleep in her own old room, out of tho kitchen," persisted Mary. " She 11 bo no more care than a canary bird. Oh, mother, do consent! She will think then that sho is still in her own home. Oh, if you know how dreary it is at that noor-houso. with tho crass all tramped out, and piles of clum-shells lying around tho door, and not so much us a dandelion or a uaisv to bo seen." And Mrs. Miller yielded to Mary's tear ful solicitations. " Do as you please, my child," said she. The Tewkstown authorities were but too clad to be rid of the poor old incubus ; mid Miss Abby Dabney settled down into her old home, as contentedly and un- questioningly aS if sho had never left it. She ato and drank, but little; sue talked still less, and .seemed to regard Mrs. Miller and Mary as guests, who had come to visit the old farm. "The Widow Miller and her darter must bo rich folks, to undertake to sun port old Miss Abby," sneered one neigh bor. "She was well enough provided for at tho poor-house," said another. "I never yet saw a farm succeed that was worked by women-folks," jeered a third. "There'll be the biggest kind of a smash-up presently," observed number four. "Ami an auction Bide of every thing; and I'll be on hand for I don't deny that them little Alderney cows is tho cunuingebt creeturs 1 ever set eyes on, and good milkers into the bargain." But time wore ou, and there was no flutter of uuy red flag over tho porch. Ou tho contrary, matters throve, and Mary Miller declared, joyously, that "farming was a great deal more profita ble business than working iu the factory, aud she ouly wished that bhe hud fouud it rut before." I'ntil onu gray, autumnal evening, M.ny ii ml her mother etme buck fvum ft brisk walk to the village, and found a stalwart, sunbrowned man sitting oppo site to Miss Abby, by tho red glow of the fire. The old woman rose up, in an odd, un certain way, "Ladies," she said, fumbling in her old snuff-box, "this is my nephew, Cyrus Du brey he as ran away from home twenty nine years ago come Michaelmas Day, and we all supposed was dead. Cyrus, these are the ladies who are so good as to visit me here. I don't quite recollect their names; but then, my memory ain't as good as it used to bo ; and, after all, it don't matter much. Kothing matters much nowadays!" And Miss Abby sat down and fell into a "daze" again, as if all necessity foi conversational effort were over. Cyrus Dubrey stood up a bronzed, bearded giant, with dark eyes and su- F'rb stature. ..... . ... ".Ladies, 1 beg your paruoni" ne said. But I s posed when I came here I was L . . All coming Home I l Knew noining oi ail these changes. I never could have dreamed that my cousins would let this old creature co to the tow n poor-liouse. I don't know who you are, ladies." with a husky ruttle in his throat, "but 1 thank you, from tue very bottom oi my neart, for trivinc her a shelter in tier old age. And if money will pay you for it " "It will not I" said Mary, sharply, as it tho words conveved a slur. "No, I s'posed not," said Cyrns. with a sigh. "But I've plenty of money now. The dear old aunty shall live nice a queen all tho rest of her days, for sho was good to me when all the rest set me down for a blacK sheep. I'vo made my fortune out in Panama, and 1 ve coma home to redeem mvself !" "I have heard of Cyrus Dubrey," said Mrs. Miller, cently. "And I'll venture, ma'am, you heard no good o me," said the young giant, with a short laugh. "I'll not deny that I was a wild .by enough, but there wasn't any actual pvil in me, let folks say what they would. And now I've como back a rich man, aud there's no body to bid mo welcome home, except old Aunt Abby, out of the poor-house." lie could not long have made this statement, however. All the town was up to bid the rich government contractor . welcome to Tewkstown within twenty-four hours. Human nature is human nature every where. But Cyrus Dubrey cared little for the friendly overtures of the old neighbors. Aunt Abby was the only person for whom ho seemed to care, and his greatest grief was that the old woman refused to leave the old Dubrey farm house to live in the stately brick mansion which he built on Prospect hill. And then he asked permission to deck her little bed -room with the curiosities he had brought her from the isthmus, and in tacking up draperies and arranging shells and old silver coins he and Mary unconsciously became friends ! Friends. She never knew that it was anything else, until one day old Aunt Abby took a strange idea into her head. And Mary, holding a rich Oriental cord for Cyrus Dubrey to loop into knots for Jiicture frames, heard her introduce Mrs. Ililler to a neighbor as "my guest, Mrs. Miller, the mot her of tho young lady that nephew Cyrus is going to. marry!" Cyrus looked at Mary. Mary dropped the ball of cord and turned crimson. "Mary!" he said, piteously, "say thai it shall be so. For I love you ! And and you were good to old Aunt Abby when all the world turned against her. I sometimes think, Mary, that you mustt be like one of heaven's angels !" And this was how they became en gaced ! They still live in the old farm-house, Die happiest of married lovers, and Aunt Abby firmly belie.ves that they are allhet guests; for to her the .world stands eter nally still tho world 'that is 60 full of bloom and beauty to Cyrus and Mary ! Helen ForreU Urate. Quinine from Gas Tar. The last contribution of modern chem istry to science is tho production of qui nino from gas tar. Professor Fisher, of Munich, has succeeded in obtaining from distilled coal a white crystalline powder, which, as far as regards its action on tho human system, eanuot be distinguished from quinine except that it assimilates even more readily with tho stomach. Its efficacy in reducing fever heat is said to 1)0 remarkable, even rendering the use of ice unnecessary. Tho importance of such a discovery as this consists not so much in the actual fact achieved as in the stimulus given to scientific research by the opening up of a new channel oi in vestigation. The romance of gas tar is evidently fur from being exhausted. In addition to tho sweetest scents, the most brilliant dyes, tho most powerful disin fectants, and even prussic acid are some of the nun.crous and wonderful products of its decomposition. A Telephone Trick. To a barrister's clerk in Birmingham, England, belongs tho credit of showing how fraudulent ingenuity adapts itsell to new conditions, aud tho robbery of his master through the telephone, for which he is now "wanted," was a very clever pieco of criminal work. He connected tho telephone with a friend of his em- Iiloyer, successfully imitated the voice of lis "master, and asked for tho loan of some money, adding that the clerk would be sent to fetch it. Then, by forging a telegram to call the barrister into tho country, he gained plenty of time to put long distauces between tho three parties concerned, and insured a postponement' of tho ditcovcry of the fiuud. You cau rent a seulskiu sacque in Chicago fur fifty dollars a season. This is cheaper than houte rent, for a woman ciiulise in a scuUkin acuu OU the ktavl u'A winter, flOW APACHES IHJNT DEER. KUJTK- O BOWX TBS AJTIMAX WITST $BXB TIX EI. ESS 1,0 FB. The Psnalty of ratlins; to Shoot The) Quarry A Unci ea(ul Pursuit that Last lxly milen. An ex-frontiersman tells a New York. Sun reporter how tho Apache Indian hunts tho deer. He says : " When an Apacho hunter goes out for a hunt ho dispenses with even the scant attire he assumes in his ordinary daily walk in life. He needs no dog, for Mb quick eye detects the trail of the deer as readily as the hound's docs, no matter how keen its scent. On the trau, he lot Jows it as silently as a shadow, for he Knows he will soon come in sight of the game, either feeding or lying at rest among the bushes. When he sights the deer he steals to within safe gunshot. If the deer's head is turned away from tho hunter, the latter, first taking aim, Ehuf fles his foot on the ground. If the doer is lying down it springs to its feet at the sound, and wheels around facing the direction from which the sound came. If it is standing; it turns around 'quickly. The Apache hunter is always desirous of killing a deer by shooting it as nearly in tho center of the forehead as ho can. So, when the deer turns toward him, he fires at that spot. His aim is rarely at fault, but sometimes the deer is quicker to discover tho cause of its alarm than the hunter is to fire, and turns for safety in flight. An Apache's gun, also, not infrequently misses fire, and the deer flees on the wings of the wind. To permit a deer to escape after it is once discovered is something that no Apache hunter is expected to do, and it is against their code to fire the Second time. The hunter, failing to kill his fame at tho first attempt, must run it own, and it is very rare that he fails in this chase. As the deer starts away in its flight, leaping from twenty to thirty feet at a time, the Indian drops his gun, and, with hidoous yells, starts in pursuit. The deer at first leaves the hunter far behind, putting forth its greatest efforts to that end. But its trail is as plain to the Indian as a turnpike road is to a white man, aud he ioiiows. as is its nature, as soon as the deer is out of sight and sound of threatening dan ger, it stops and waits for developments. The sight of the pursuing hunter starts it on its way again. . Every halt of this kind tells against the deer, lor it is not of sufficient length to give it any 'benefi cial rest, and at every new start it is stiffer and less active. The Indian never halts. There are runners among tho Apaches who can run for twenty-four hours without a stop, and can make their five miles every hour of the time. After the deer has run for two or three hours, its thirst prompts it to make for the nearest watr. This the relentless hunter knows to be inevitable, and when the deer reaches this stage of the chase the Indian considers the victory won. Thcro is no hope for the deer after it stops to drink, for it takes into its parched' stomach all it can. Having ladened" itself with this weight of water the deer is unable to take long leaps, and cannot extend its run between halts more than half the former distance. The Indian's tongue may hang swollen and white from his mouth, and his mouth be as dry as dust, and his stomach burning up with heat, but he never stops to drink. He scoops s. handful of water from "the stream as ho dashes across it, and carries it to his mouth, where he holds it a moment and ejects it without taking a swallow. If he is obliged to swim, he lets the water run in his mouth, but keeps it from his stomach. "After running an hour or so, after the deer has quenched its thirst, the In dian kno.ws it is time to find some evi dence of tho animal's weakening. These he is wire to find along the trail, in the shape of blood spots on some rock where tho deer has tumbled on its knees, or a patch of hair clinging to some sharp pro- i action, showing that the deer's strength las failed so that it cannot turn quickly out of the way of obstacles. Now the Indian increases his speed. Ho knows that the deer's race is ruu. In time he 1 overtakes the deer, which is now loping feebly along. A yell startles it into a momentary burst of speed. Then, as if appreciating the fact that it were useless to prolong the race, it stops aud turns with all tho defiance its exhausted nature can assume, and awaits the approach of the hunter. Sometimes, however, tho deer runs until it drops dead or dying in its tracks. If it turns upon tho Indian, the latter keeps right on at full speed. He knows the deer can do him no harm, its inclination to the contrary notwithstanding. He seizes it boldly, throws it to tho ground with ease, and cuts its throat. Without a moment's delay, whether the deer is dead or dying, tho Indian cuts from behind the fore shoulder a large pieco of meut. He sucks the warm blood from it and de vours the morsel, keeping constantly on the move. If the carcass of tho deer is not too heavy, he throws it across his shoulders and starts immediately for homo. Ho does not rest a moment, for fear of becoming too stiff to muko the return trip. If the deer is too heavy for him to carry, ho cuts out tho choicest parts, hides tho remainder in a secure place, and brings iu the former. In this case another member of tho tribe is se lected to take his back track on the arri val of the hunter in camp, and bring iu the vcuison left behind. "If a deer is young an Apacho hunter will run it down within a distance of sixty miles, but they hf.ve been known to prolong a cluise for 100 miles. The course taken is always devious and cir cuitous, and may end withiu a mile or so of the storting place." The use of alligator leather has be come so gcmTiil that it luuisfb tho luughu-r ev.fy year, pf B.QW.UOO. vk -4 A H ., . . FASniON NOTES. Circle cloaks of every description re main in high favor. Buttoned and Mousquetalre Suede gloves aro equally fashionable. Tho evening cloak par excellence is of cashmere lined with plush, and having a crapo hood trimmed with lace. Pretty Parisian capotes are made of velvet applique on colored lace, with a bunch of velvet flowers on one side. The small muff of velvet, lace, plush, fur, and even cloth matching the capote in shade and material, is the latest fancy. For street wear some of the Parisian milliners have broucht out exquisite little Fanchon-like bonnets of gray Swedish Neglige caps are pointed in front. One is made of gold lace and trimmed with Iiink velvet ribbon; another of silver lace ias bows of pale blue ribbon. Gloves thirtv-one inches lonff in mous- quetaire shape, without a single button, i are made of reddish tan buede earner, to 1m? worn with any evening dress, either white, black or colored. A new style muff is composed of rows of falling chenille, cither in black,brown or any dark color, with loops of gold or silver braid sewn on at distances beneath the falling fringe, but showing between. One of the new brocades has ground of pale buff satin, covered with an irregular lace-like pattern of lavender pink, with bouquets of flowers in petunia and light blue tints and foliage of faded green. Diamonds aro now mounted to repre sent various flowers, which can be worn either as bouquets on tho bodice and in the hair, or can bo detachsd as single blooms when required. A nccklaee of pansies in diamonds is very handsome. Plastrons of beaded lace, especially ol what is called white jet, with sleeves of the same, are worn with white dresses of satin or brocaded velvet. A full frill of three or four rows of Jate is around the neck, and a bow of velvet or a small bunch of flowers fastens this on the side. The smallest screw earrings are now al most the only kind admissible with street dresses. These may be made of rubies, pearls, turquoises, cat's-eyes, or flint dia- monus sei iu natural goiu ui mo ungm. cst yellow, or held by claws of platina that are strobg though too small to be conspicuous. Youne ladies now wear ono, two or three strings of pearls, fastened in front- by a dainty little colored velvet dow; also a band, of velvet or cream-colored lace, with a pompon as fastening, worn toward the left ear. Some velvet bands are edged on each side with a string of small pearls, and others have tiny pearls dotted over them. A Gigantic -Statue. ' Of tho scenery of tho Borromean Islands, or the blended softness and 'grandeur of the charming banks, the in tense blue of the lake waters, and distant engirdling of snowy peaks, one can hardly 6ay too much. But other points of interest there are, most attractive to the traveler; among them, in the vicinity of Arona Station, upon an elevation over looking the entire district, is a colossal statue stretching skyward sixty-six feet, and resting upon a pedestal forty feet in height. It was erected in 1697, in honor of the celebrated Cardinal, Count Carlo Borromeo, archbishop of Milan, in which city he died, 1587. The head, hands and feet of this statue are'of bronze ; the robe is of wrought copper. The various parts areJield together y iron clamps, and in the interior by stout masonry." Ladders are at hand, by which the lower purt of the robe may be reached, whence the in terior can be entered. If one has pluck and spirit, and is a climber of skill, he can, by means of well-arranged iron bars, ascend to the head of this wonderful statue, in which three persons can be ac commodated. A window introduced at the back of this gigantic memorial re lieves slightly the intense closeness of the air; but the suffocating heat and the crowded companionship of bats render the ascent any thing but a pleasant pas time. -There is no little artistic merit in this enormous structure, and it will long stand in commemoration of the kingly soul imperiling personal safety in thought lulncss for others, when the plague was I devastating his diocese. Cardinal Bor , romco died at his post, a martyr in this I terrible wariare oi aeatn. lie was can : ouized in 1610, and his shrine has been the resort of pilgrims from far and near. Baldwin'' t Monthly. Peculiarities of Language. Tho German calls a thimble a "finger hat," which it certainly is, and a grass hopper a "hay-horse." A glove with them is a "hand-shoe," showing evi dently that they wore shoes before gloves. Poultry is feather-cattle;" while the names for tho well-known substances, "oxygen" and "hydrogen," are in their language "sour stuff " and "water stuff." The French, strauge to say, have no verb "to stand," aud cannot speak of "kick ing" any one. The nearest approach, in his politeness, he makes to it, is to threaten to "give a blow with his foot" the same thing probably to the recip ient in cither case, but it seems to want the directness, the energy of our "kick." Neither has ho any word for "baby," nor for "home," nor "comfort." The term "upstairs'' and "downstairs" are also unknown iu French. The Hindoos are said to have no word for "friend." Tho Italians have no equivalent for "hu uianitv." i A company with f 2,500,000 capital is prepuriug to drain 1,000,000, acres ot land in Cumerou, Calcasieu and Yer i uiliou in the southwest corner of Loui ' ittuu, and to niuko a gulf front of 100 mile of ugrieulturul lauds between LuIlo J is)t Ul0 work huve urvvta from Knlaud, . .n.i.i., t viowina fifty acici a duv. m A, LEAP-YEAR EPISODE. Can I forget that winter night In eighteen eighty-four, When Nellie, charming little sprite, Came tapping at the doorf "Good-evening, miss," I Dl ashing said For in my heart I knew And, knowlng.hung my pretty head That Nellie came to woo I She clasped my big, red hand, and fell Adown upoa her Isneca, And cried: "You know I love you well. So be my husband, please 1" And then she swore she'd ever b A tender wife and true Ah, what delight it was to me That Nellie came to woo! She'd lace my shoes and darn my hose And mend my shirts, she said, And grease my comely Roman nose Each night on going to bed: She'd build the fires and fetch the coal. And kplit the kindling, too Love's perjuries o'erwholmed her soul When Nellie came to woo. And as I, blushing, gave no check To her advances rash. She twined her arms about my neck And toyed with my mustache; And then she pleaded for a kiss, While I what could I do But coyly yield to that bliss When Nellie came to woo? I am engaged, and proudly wear A gorgeous diamond ring, And I shall wed my lover fair j3ome time in gentle spring. I face my doom without a sigh And so, forsooth, would you, If yeu but loved as fond as L And Nellie came to woo. Chicago Ketcs. HUMOR OF THE DAY O'er true toils Hair. ' A deer child A fawn. Coats of arms Sleeves. Flooral decorations Rugs. A stuok-up man The taffy maker. The " poets' scorner" in a newspaper is usually the editor. BochenUr Erprei. Niagara falls. Well, you wouldn't ex pect it to run up bill, would you! Rochetter Pout. A joint resolution Tho determination of the landlady to have a leg of mutton for dinner. Lowell Courier. The Washington Jlatchet announces that prose and verse wil bo paid for at the regular rates, and that "tie rate for verse is death." Barnum's white elephant cost him 200,000. Many more costly white ele phants have been owned in this country. Lowell Courier. A Frenchman is teaching a donkey to talk. What we want in this country is a man who will teach dopkeys not to talk. Boston Post.. "Dig him out! Dig him out!" said the wife of the man who got buried by a caving well; "he's' got at least tix dollars in his pocket." The London World tells of a new con trivance to make ladies taller. The ladies have contrivances enough for making men short. New York World. Professor Swing says that "poetry arises from the fact that a man likes to see two things at once." And yet all inebriates are not poets. Graphic An exchange advises bread and milk poultices as a cure for scratches. Young husbands will do well to note this down in their diaries, for future reference. Burlington tree Prem. ' Makinsr a young man a clerk in a dry .goods store, it is said, knocks all thoughts 4 'of matrimony out of his head. He not 'only learns what it costs to dress a woman, 'buthe realizes hoiv they can talk. The christening of an infant archduch ess of Austria occurred lately. The fact came by cable. The name of the royal infant will be sent over by steamer ns soon as the royal secretaries get jt copied. In a railway carriage: Guibollard asks, very politely, "Madame, doessmok ing trouble you!" "Oh, yes, monsieur; not ordinarily, but to-day " "Ahl madame," replies Guibollard, in a very sympathetic tone, "how much you are about to suffer!" : "Yes," said ono tramp to another, "I've got tired of packing around from one hotel to another and I've taken a flat. Fine air, good view of tho river, pleuty of room and privilege of the bath, but come down and see for yourself," and he led the way to a water-logged coal barge. Saturday Night. Are poets fickle and inconsistent? Are they sordid, selfish, ungrateful, and liko the cold and heartless, dull and prosaic world which surrounds them? Why did Ella Wheeler write: "I da, not love him in the old fond way?" or if she must writo it, why did she wait till the ice cream season was over? Chicago Sun. Tho least destructible portion of the human body is the hair. In Egypt it 'has been known to survive 4,000 yews. And the Egyptian were not as careful of their hair, cither, as are the women of the present day. They never toek it off at night and "hung it over the back of a chair to prevent it from getting worn out. NorrUtown Herald. "I know," said a littlo Chicago girl to her elder sister's young man, at the silp- pcr table, "that you will joiu our society 'for the protection of littlo birds, because mumimi says you are very fond of larks." The youth" promptly handed over a five dollar note as au initiation fee, and thinks in due time ho will be a full fledged ornithological huuiauituiiun. Chicago Tihgram. The MLwusiri'i tarries aauuuliy to tha sea 812,500,000,0(10 pounds of mud. AU the hub'itubio laud ot the ejubo is bung cojitiimuliy ground SU'l w&i.4 a ay,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers