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VOL. XVII NO. 22.
TIONESTA, PA., WEDNESDAY, SEPT 17, 1884.
$1.50 PER ANNUM.
HE FOREST REPUBLICAN
n. 1 ini
a fantasy.
l?o In dreamless sloop
'."Idle shadows over me creeps
' .ru thrilled with a rnpturo deep
An the drlrt imr clouds pass by.
I hoar the rustle of loaves,
The birds in tho garnered sheaves,
And the wind that wearily grieves
Through the stublilo, brown and dry.
I have never a thought of cars;
Korgottn the old despair,
Too blest for even a prayer,
"Willi cluj-ped liaml.i I He.
Thwm is ponce in tho darkened room,
There are lilies in perfect bloom,
And tho haunting, inro perfume
Of jessaiuiuo 0 tutting by.
No glance I backward cast;
A seal ; on the pnst,
And the future, vague and vast,
Beckons with bated breath.
" ;t tho wind goes shuddering by:
' r,r a stn n.; mmi's sigh
J a heart k.i'k child's low cry:
it life, or is it death?
JSurah I). Jlobart, in LippincolL
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW.
Ho came the dny wns dull and dead,
The skies wore cold and gray;
Tbe slanting rain liout on the pan
And blurred tho towing bay,
KJuf. oh, so dear Lis tender tone,
His smile so sweet to see,
That in my heart the sunlight shone,
And all was fair to me.
'To'g gone the day is fresh and fair,
The Kkics are worm and bright,
robin sings; tho blithe boo wing
i'or fragrant Odds his flight,
.it dim and blurred through tearful
The sunlit bay I goo;
J'or on my hart a shadow lies
And all is dark to me.
Walter Learned, in Manhattan.
THE DOCTOR'S WARD.
"Marry Kitsie!" Dr. Orcaly cried,
'sbinir buck his chair nud staiincr at his
!er la amazement. " What ia the
rid should any one want to marry Kit
's for,"
"For a multitude of reason," Miss
!ora replied, with a pleasant little laugh.
" You neein to forget, Jack, that she's not
a child any longer, and that half tho
cligiblo young men in Ballycoylo are ia
lvo with her already."
" That's not saying much," the doctor
replied, grimly. "" There are only three
men in the place th'at cuu afford to keep
a wife; but what you say about Captain
Challoner fairly uiuuzes me. Why why,
he's very near as old 114 I ami"
"Even so. Jack; you're not
quite a
pntriare!
ono mo...
hero day
evening"
you know. Just think for
.1: what brings tho captain
after day and evening after
' Well,
then, to tell you the truth,
Dolly, I rather fluttered myself that he
camu to see me and play cribbage with
lue," the doctor replied, looking gravely
at Ins Mster.
I
did, upon my
science!"
"Then you're a conceited old goose,
that's all 1 can say,"' Miss Dora replied,
laughing heartily at her biothcr s evident
amazement. "Frank Challoner comes
to pco Kitsie."
"Then he sha'n't see her any more,"
the doctor cried, ringing the bell vio
lently. "iiere, Bridget, whero'g Miss Kitsie?"
he roared, as an elderly woman put her
head in the door, holdiug the handle in
her apron.
"Where would she be, sur, but up
nirs tixiu' herself for tay?" Bridget re
'iod, in nn aggrieved tone, She did
,t like boing summoned from the
tchen for such a tritle.
'lhen go upstairs this moment, and
ill her she's not to come down to
i.ight. No, wait a second I'll go myself.
Or you go, Dora."
"Mess an' save us, miss, the masther
is taking lave of his .-insos!" Bridget ex
claimed, still clinging to the door-handle:
and ut that moment Kitsie came tripping
down stairs singing gay ly:
" 'Oh ! there's nothing half so sweet in life
As lyove's young dream!' "
"What do you know about love's
young dream, miss?" tho doctor said, as
she entered the room.
".Nothing at all, Uncle Jack, but what
tho song says." Kitsie replied, looking at
him cuiiously with a pair of the bluest
, eyes, shaded by tho longest and most defi
ant black, curly lashes. ''.Nothing in the
world yet; but,sure,l may bo wiser some
7 day."
"Hum!" tho doctor growled, throwing
a triumphant glance at his sister. "I'll
tako rare you learn none of that nonsense
yet a while."
"Miss Kitsie, jewel, will ye come here
one minute?" liridgct called from the
kitchen; and when they were alone Miss
Dora stood by her brother's chair and
looked ut him sadly.
"1 am sorrv, Jack, that 1 said anything
about Caplain Challoner; but now that
we've broached the subject, wo may as
well look it fairly in tho lace. There is
no doubt, whatever, but he admires Kit
sie who could help that? no doubt,
either, it would be a line thing for the
child if he married her. lie is rich, 11ml
a thorough gentleman -though not bo
young as 1 could wish, perhaps. If any
thing happened to you to-morrow, what
Would become of Kitsie f While 1 had a
crust she would share it, of course, and
liridgct would wt rk her lingers to the
bones fur her; but it would be a poor
prot.pi-1 1 for a bright, merry, lovely young
thing lo be shut up in solitude aild pov
erty w it h t w o heal t broken old women.
I.ile at best is uncertain, Jack, and a doc
tors more so th.iu many people's, going,
.s you do, In ton uy iti iiluean every
day. Wouldn't it be a comfort ti you to
know that Kitsie was well provided for
and happy?"
The doctor sat for fully five minutes,
gnawing his mustache somewhat savage
ly; then ho took two or three turns up
and down the dining-room, and stood
looking out of the window for a minute.
Tho prospect was a pleasant one a
strip of smooth emerald lawn, the white
road leading to the village, and beyond
tho beautiful blue sea and the white cliffs
of Ballycoylo.
For seventeen yenrs he had associated
Kitsie with the ten, the cliffs, the lawn,
tho pretty cottage.
How would it all look when she was
gone? What a change would take place
In their happy home How would Dora
get on without her loving, constant com
panion?
How would he, Jack Grealy, bear the
loss? It was so sudden and unex
pected that he had scarcely time to
rcali.o what losintr Kitsie meant to him
elf.
He would not think of it. If this
grave, handsome, wealthy suitor could
win her, let him; he would not stand in
her light. He had been everything to
Kitsie for seventeen years since he res
cued her, a tiny baby, from the sea at
the risk of his own life, and placed her
in bis sister's arms.
There had been a wreck oil'" Old
Man's Nose," and tho only two persons
saved were a tiny, golden-haired baby
a Hindoo woman evidently her nurse
who died a day or two after.
For seventeen years the child had
made the sunshine of tho doctor's homo,
the music of his life.
She knew no other friends, was not
even aware that she was their nhco in
love only, and had no claim on cither
Uncle Jack or Aunt Dora; and now the
first stranger that came by would take
her away. He or some other it was all
tho same, Jack muttered. He would
have to lose her, and he might as well
make tho best of it.
"I suppose you're right, Dolly," ho
8 id, at length, turning to his sister;
"Challoner would be an excellent match
for Kitsie. Hut I never even thought of
such a thing, and for the moment I was
surprised. Uf course, I must tell him
her history, the little there is of it."
And then he left the room with the
slow, unsteady step of a man but half
awake.
Miss Dora looked after him for a mo
j mcnt in pained surprise. It slowly
dawned upon her that there was some
thing wrong with Jack something
strange in his face and voice and man
ner, and that somehow Kitsie was the
cause of it. But she was a wise woman
and knew when to be silent as well as
when to speak, only she thought deeply
and sadly of the trouble in Jack's honest
1 gray eyes. After tea, Kitsie sat down to
! the piano, and played over her uncle's
: favorite airs, "Tho Meeting of the
I Waters," "The Young Hay Moon,"
! "The Coulin," and other plaintive, old
t Irish melodies.
"Play something else, Kitsie," the
doctor cried ut last, "something new
something Knglish. I'm tired of tho old
Irish airs, they're so melancholy."
"Then I'll play you something from
'Pinafore.' 1 know vou like that." Kit
sie cried, merrily, and the doctor smoth
eredau exclamation. He hated "Pina
fore"' hated it doubly at that moment
for he remembered that Captain Chul
loner had given her the music.
At that moment the captain himself
was announced, and after a pleasan
evening he rose to go at 10 o'clock, his
usual time tor saving good-niglit. Hut
when the doctor accompanied him to
tne door he lingered for a moment, am.
then said he should like to have half an
hour's conversation. "The fact is, doc
tor, I have soinethiug serious to say to
you, and as I am summoned to England
on urgent business, 1 should to say it be
fore 1 go."
"Come into the den," the doctor said
leading the way. He knew quite well
what the captain was going to say and
ueved himself to bear it.
" You must have seen, doctor," he be
yan, "that I admire your niece, Miss
Kitsie, very much. She is very beauti
ful, artless, and unaffected, and if I can
succeed in winning your consent and
hers, I should like to make her my wife.
I am a rich man, and 1 do not think you
will have any reason to fear for her fu
ture if you intrust her to me."
"I believe that, captain, but I can
answer for Kitsie." the doctor said
little huskily ; " in fact, I have no legal
right either to give or withhold my con
sent, as the child is no relative either by
blood or marriage, nor is she my ward in
reality. I picked her up seventeen years
ago, when a ship was wrecked off ' Old
Man's Nose.' She has lived with my sis
ter and myself ever since, and is very
dear to us both, but we have no right to
influence her."
"Still, 1 am sure she will be guided by
your wishes to a great extent; at least
she ought to be, seeing how good vo
have been to her. At least, give me your
consent to try and win her!"
"You have it," tho doctor replied
"and if you do win her you will be for
tunate. She lias a beautiful nature,
sweet temper, a loving heart. Kitsie is
largely endow ed w ith good qualities, anc
she is very lovely !
Captain Challoner fully indorsed the
list of perfections, though he could not
help asking himself what some of hi
aristocratic relatives and mends would
say to his marrying a nameless sea waif,
brought up by a poor dispensary doctor
in a remote little Irish village. He
thought it best not to inquire too mi
nutely into the circumstance of her rescue,
better take her just usshe was, Dr. tlrea-
ly's niece, than discover that she be
longed to some oue more objectionable.
He resolved to discover the state of Kit
sie's feelings the very next day though
he had not very many doubts or fears on
the subject, she was always soglad to see
him. and enjoyed his society so much
and that he would return to London and
see what the very urgent mmnnss was
that his lawyer had written about.
About 9 o Clock ho called at the
cottage With the intention of asking
Kltslo to accompany Mm for a walk on
the beach. He found her alone, curled
up in an easy-chair, having what she
called a good read.
Her uncle hail gone to ceo a patient ten
miles oil, una her aunt on a shopping 1
expedition to Mil town. 1 he captain
bought he might it" well speak then and
then? as anywhere else.
Fora longtime Kitsie did not under
stand hbn.and when she did she glanced
around with frightened eves, seeking
some means of escape.
"Oh, no, no, ileae. Captain Chal
loner 1 I never thought of such a thing!"
she cried, entreat ingly.
"Hut vou can try and think of it now,
dearest," ho said, holding her hands
gently.
"I can't I won't I Please let me gol"
she Bobbed.
But ho detained her, pleaded his
cause with gentle insistence told her
that ho know her history, and pointed
out that it was her duty to relievo Doc
tor Orcaly of his trouble and expense as
soon as she could ; then he told her of
his wealth, his home, his friends of
the new and delightful world open to
her.
But Kitsie listened in a dull, dazed
way; only a few of bis words rung in
her ears "You are no relation to Doc
tor Qrealy: you are alitte sea waif."
At last she pushed him from her with
both her trembling hands.
"Go away, or I shall hate you!" she
cried, passionately. "1011 have robbed
me of all 1 care about on earth; 1 will
never see you. never speak to you again, ,
Captain Challoner never, never, never j
bo your Wife.
And she rushed past him and into
her Uncle Jack's study, leaving him to
find his way out of the houso as best he
could.
An hour later the doctor returned.
Was that white-faced, trembling little
form looking up at him with such mute,
appealing misery his blithe, bonnie
Kitsie f
"My pet, what is it?'' he cried, strok
ing her hair tenderly. "Come, tell mo
all about it."
With many sobs and tears, Kitsie told
her story; how Captain Challoner wanted
to marry her and take her away, and,
worst of all, said that she did not belong
to Uncle Jack and Aunt Dora.
"As If I could over leave youl" she
cried, piteously. "Oh, tell me it was a
cruel, wicked story, and that I am your
very own Kitsie tell me, Uncle Jack !"
" My pet, it's true we saved you, but
you belong to us all the more on that ac
count, and you shall never leave us, dear
uover, till you wish to go. Como now,
dry your eyes before your aunt comes
home, and forget all about Captain Chal
loner." But Kitsie, once set thinking, could
not forget so easily. Sho fretted uud
w orried herself into a serious illness, and
then Miss Dora had to take her away for
a change, she grew so thin and pale. But
after the first few weeks Kitsie svemed
no better, and one day, when the doctor
camo to see her, he resolved to tiud out
what was the matter.
" Kitsie, what is it?" lie whispered,
taking both her hands, aud kneeling
beside her. " My darling, can't you trust
me? Can't you tell me what trouble
you?"'
" I dou"t know," she replied, hiding
her face on his shoulder.
"But I must know, or I shall go mad.
Kitsie, you aro not fretting fiir Frank
Challoner, ure youl Tell me tho truth,
darling."
"Jack!" Only one little word, but it
was enough. In another moment the
doctor had taken her into his arms, aud
into his heart forever, and little Kitsie'g
worst troubles were ended.
Wherx they returned to Ballycoylo a
wouderful surprise awaited them. Kitsie
was 110 longer a sea-waif, but a wealthy
heiress. Her friends at last had discov
ered her. She had sailed with her father,
mother and nurse from Calcutta, and
their vessel had been wrecked. They
were rescued by the brig that went to
-.; i..vij i. x' ,, 1 1 -
U" V,u maua i"se ,,uu ! of this class. Husbands often thought
Kitsie and her nurse and two sailors 1 ,MS, encoma tlu.ir wivrs or aaughters
proved that a gentleman and lady and i
little girl had been on board their brig;
and several other circumstances proved
that Kitsie was indeed the long-lost
daughter of a wealthy gentleman, whose !
fortune on his death went to his brother,
and lrom him to his nephew, Capuin
Challoner, his sister's son. When Kilsio
was discovered, the captain honorably
gave up the fortune, but neither she nor
the doctor would consent to taking all;
half was more than sullicient for their I
wants, for they declare they shall con- j
tinue to live ail their lives in Ballyeoyle,
only paying an occasional visit to Kitsie's 1
English home.
Street Cars Without Hails.
An Alexandria (Egypt) letter to tho San
Francisco Examiner says: Here in Alex
andria, for the first time in my life. I have
seen street cars running without the aid
ot rails of any kind. The cars are like
our ordinary open summer cars, though
a little shorter and are drawn by two
horses. The wheels are about twice the
usual diameter, projecting up through
tbe floor quite conspicuously. They are
of wood, with iron tires. As the streets
of Alexandria aro paved with smooth
blocks of stone, about two feet long aud
oue foot wide, in such a way that the
Hues of contiguity cross tho street half
way diagonally and then reverse, they are
specially adapted to the locomotion of
these cars. The cars must be light built,
and 1 judge that there are regularly ap
pointed routes for them. They move
along at a decent speed, aud are not al
together uncomfortable.
MONACO'S GAMBLING DEN.
A VIVIDLY DBAWN PICTURB Ol" A
GREAT EVIL.
Ijiorinoim I'rofila of the Concern
lmin'ii- Sums nt Slake Iluna
drnN Lured to ICuin and Dealb.
Dr. J. H. Bennett sas in a letter to
the London Pull Mtli Gnze'te: Public
attention has been forcibly directed for
tho last few years to the Monte Carlo
gambling establishment at Monaco, and
to the grow ing evils which its existence
entails. Of late the feeling of aversion,
not to say horror, which it occasions has
become so general in every country
throughout Lurope, both with the gov
erned and the governing bodies, that I
cannot but think that its days are num
bered. Both Europe and America have
become fully awakened to the fact that
tbe gambling house is a blot on modern
society, and that its great and yearly in
creasing prosperity scatters ruin and des
olation over the earth. The acknowl
edged profits of the concern are 17,000,
Ouu francs, or nearly 700,000. No per
son living has probably seen more than I
have of the Monte Carlo gambling estab
lishment, for I have resided in its im
mediate vicinity (Mentone) for twenty-
five winters, and consequently no one is
better qualified to speak of its moral and
social influence on the surrounding pop
ulations. I took refuge on the Genoese
Riviera in 1850, ill unto death, thereby
saved life, and have returned to it in
tbe winter ever since. On my first
arrival the gambling house was in its
infancy, established at Monaco itself,
uuder tho patronage of the prince, and
attracted out little notice. It was a very
small and insignificant concern. When
tho lxmn!I establishment at Homburg
waa cios(,ai M. LllinCt its hett(l, bought
lln hn Monitor) business nlirnininar from
up the Monaco business, obtaining from
the prince a long lcaso with all kinds of
privileges, which were, of course, largely
paid for. Bringing to the matter great
experience and a masterly mind, M.
Blanc's success has been stupendous,
What much aided him was the fact
that tho closure of Homburg was fol
lowed by that of all the gambling houses
in Europe, so that gamblers of all nation
nlitics, men and women, have been thrown
into his clutches. Year by year the area
of the pernicious inlluenee of Monte Carlo
has increased, in ever widening circles,
until it is now felt all over the world, in
Europe, Asia, Alnca and America.
Its enormous influence for evil is best
understood by a simple calculation which
I owe to a professional gambler. As the
chances of the table are one in thirty-six
in favor of the bank, to gain annually
nearly 700,000, which it professes to
do, (17,000,0Df.) 24,500,000 must
have been staked on its tables, must
huvo been won and lost. The bank
700,000 profit is its royalty at the
rate of one in thirty-six on this enor
mous amount of money, which must
therefore, have been played, lost und
won. If the 17,0i'0,000f. are the profits
after deducting the very heavy expeuse
incurred by the establishment, as I be
lieve is the case, the amount actually
played must be much greater. It
this fact of the gambler dealing with
large masses of money that partly ac
counts for the strange fascination exer
cised by gambling. A careful player,
who begins with, say, 1,000 capita
may have fingered, according to the doc
trine of chances, ;i0(000 before he loses
bis capital. If be play long enough.the
bank royalty of one in thirty-six is sure
to swallow up his capital, and then ho
lias bad all the emotion of having been
alternately successful or tho reverse, ric
or poor. He regrets when he has t
last lost his initial capital that he did
not stop when successful, which he never
does, vows that he will be more prudent
next time, and in order to have the chance
sells, borrows, raises money anyhow
t ften he loses all feeling of honor and pro
bitv, and, alter risking bis last shilling,
plays his wife's dowry, his daughter
fortune, his employer's money, to end
may be, by suicide.
At .Monte Carlo often every fourth
' player is a woman; und such women
1 Truly they represent he sirens of old
I and aro infinitely more dangerous, ofte
ruining entirely those whom they circum
vent. The women Hre not all. however.
cons, on the taolc, und thus inoculate
I them with the gambling ficny. It is
1 principally to attract these really respec-
table people, to lead them by slow de-
grees to the gaming tables, that every
posMble allurement and inducement is
i olTcrcd to all, to travelers and to residents,
I with the most unbounded liherality. A
magnificent baud of seventy five iniiki
cians discourses sweet ihumc every after
noon aim cvcuitig. theatrical and oper
atic, performances are olTered weekly at
nominal prices, at whiih the leading
celelirities of tiie day take part. The
garden ale, perha
era Europe; the re
(he tine.it in South-
ling room is one of
tho best supplied, with periodical liter
ature; and nil are opened from morn to
night, without restriction, to uny well
dressed peron. avs lhe spider to the
fly: "Walk into my parlor, my pretty
fly." They do walk in by the hundreds,
by the thousand, und ure constantly
sucked dry, destroyed morally and phy
sically. When I first inhabited the Biviera tho
.Monaco gambling house, as already stated,
was a mere gaiiililing (lull or caMiio,
which excited but little notice. Now it
has become the great attraction, the great
fact. Half the people one meets are go
ing or have been to Monte Curio. If
frit-m Is ure invited the probable unswer
b
J run troing to Monaco, to the classi
cal concert, to tin- hand, or lo un operatic
performance', but few dare confers they
are going to play, and vet very many do.
Hundreds go from Mentone every day,
thousands from Nice, Cannes, and even
tNUi ICtoiio Mini Genoa. It is a growing
pestilence, a real moral plaguy spot.
People who ought to know better plat
away the money they brought to live with
throughout tne winter, and are impover-
shed throughout their stay, living on
strict necessaries. This I hear from the
Mentone tradespeople, who bewail the
aily loss they experience from this cause.
Many of their most respectable clients
lose so heavily at Monte Carlo id the early
part of their stay that they have to live
from hand to mouth during the remain-
er. Many who come to tho Hiviera from
the North to Bave life, lose all their fundi
early in the winter and have to return
home to face disease or perhaps death.
Other invalids, better off send again
and again for money, sell, mort
gage, borrow, entirely neglect their
health, spend the days and evening9
in the close, badly ventilated rooms, and
die before the end of the season. It is
very hard that people going to hbo south
for health should be exposeI o such
temptation. In every hotel Tfiere is a
band of gamblers who talk of nothing
but rouge and noir, of numbers, ot sys
tems of play. These votaries ot gambling
are not necessarily the young and the
inexperienced. They are often .middle
aged or aged men and women, and noble
men, gentry, generals, colonels, barris
ters, physicians, lhe demon of gam
bling has got hold of thein. They come
from the four corners of the earth; aud
the ruin that follows bankruptcy, pov
erty, dishonor, suicide mostly falls
upon them at home at New York, Rio
Janeiro, Batavia, Calcutta, anywhere, it
is said that during the winter about a
suicide a week occurs in and near Monaco.
If so, it is only a tithe of what occurs
elsewhere througn iuonte uario. r or
whom is this royalty of 700,000 yearly,
this enormous income, raised? Merely to
subsidize a degraded prince, and to give
colossal Incomes and fortunes to half a
dozen persons, who are ashamed of the
source from whence their money comes,
whom no respectablo person would like
to acknowledge or receive as friends, and
to wnom society oniy owes puunmuieui
as inciters to vice.
Queen Coir.
A few years ago many people stood
ready to claim that cotton was king, in
deed there are many gasping slaves to
day who claim tho same thing. Statis
tics are abundant by, means of which
this claim can be, in a part substantia
ted, but a very few pebple seem desirous
of claiming that king cotton ever aid
much to improve society, education, or
condescend to fight such a vulgar thing
as a mortgage. Cotton may be king or
not Just as people care to think. We
don't believe he is, but we do believe
that the good old cow is queen, aud that
with a trentle and royal purpose she is
seeking to build up the lands that the
old monarch has wasted. There Is very
little stylo about tho old cow. She steps
slowly and clumsily about her busi
ness, but she makes the business pay
well. She plods along in heat or
cold, wet or dry, eating what is given
her, feeling interest enough in the
family to look after the dairy interests
under circumstances that would dis
courage any other living creature; and
when she is fed aud cared for as she should
be, she responds like a queen. She
should be crowned with a new milking
pail and an extra feed of meal. The
good old cow has paid off more mort
gages, and paid for more farms than any
other known production. She is mother
of all our beef. In many a household
she catches the wolt on her horns and
tosses it far from the door. She has
turned the tide of agricultural prosperity
in many parts of the country from a
downward course in raising grain or
cotton to an upper and prosperous one
in raising stock, grass and hay. Flowers
and grass spring from beueath her feet
on tho most barreu soil. The old cow
don't stop to enthuse over them, but con
verts them into good, solid, hard cash.
King Cotton may well tremble when he
sees good old Queen Cow marching in
his direction. She comes marching along
in advance of better schools, better
morals, better farms, better men aud
women. The dead old cotton fields will
burst forth into grass at her touch, aud
contentment and happiness will leap out
of her milking pail. We tako oil out
hats to (.Jucen Cow May her shadows
never grow less. Suuthern Lice Utock
Journal.
How to Sleep.
In a recent paper read before the Bos
ton Society for Medical Improvement,
Dr. K. M. Hodges,said : "It is a common
impression that to take food immediately
before going to bed and to sleep is un
wise. Such a suggestion is answered by
a reminder that the instinct of animals
Iiroinpts them to sleep us soon us they
lave eaten ; aud in summer un after dinner
nap, especially when that meal is taken
ut midday, is a luxury indulged in by
many. Neither darkness nor season of
the year alters the conditions. If the
l ordinary hour of the evening meal is six
j or seveu o'clock, and tho first morning
j meal seven or eight o'clock, an interval
j of twelve hours or more ellipses without
food, and for the persons whose nutrition"
is ut fault this is altogether too long a
period for fasting. That such an ituer-
vul without food is permitted explains
many a restless night, and much of tho
I head and backache, ami the languid,
, half rested condition on rising, w hich is
I accompanied by no appetite for breakfast,
i This meal itself often dissipates these
i sensutions. It is. therefore desirable, if
j not essential, when nutriment is to be
crowded, that the last thing tn lore going
to bed should be tire taking of food.
Sleeplessness is of'eu caused by starvation,
and a tumbler of milk, if drank in the
middle of lhe night, will often put people
to sleep when hypnotics would full of
their purpose. Food before risiug is un
equally important expedient. It sup
plies strength for bathing and dressing,
laborious und wearisome ta.sks for the
underfed, and is a better morning 'uiot-
na im' tViuit UIIV ll HI It OP VH 'lAllii'.
NATURA NATUHAN&
Where'er my eyes may turn or senses ranger
Inspiring nature points to lifo beyond;
And when the soul, with rays of light that dim
The stars, dispels the haze that floats and fU
Athwart the rising dream of future life,
As tranquil seas endow the tranquil air,
Lo, from the dopths of premonitions wise,
Peace her glory sheds upon the heart that
says:
If life wore not good for man, man would n
live;
If death were not good for man, man wouM
not die;
Tis life's fulfillment; that all things shouH
fade, .
Again to live. Nature can ne'er destroy.
Naught perisheth, and all that's dust is life.
Still with care shall we await the certain
change,
Like Fear mantled by her good behavior.
Hugh Farrar McDermott.
HUMOR OF THE BAY.
Hanlon seems to bave discovered
the
rowed to wealth. Whitehall Timet.
Talk about babies; but then, w
never indulge in Bmall talk. Chicago
Sun.
"Out on the fly 1" is now the cry of tb
infuriated bald-headed citizen. Loxeeli
Citizen.
A man will put his best foot forward
if ho Has a sore toe on the other foot.
Picayune.
The rising of the tied Turning out to
build the fire and cook the breakfast.
"Waterloo Observer.
Stooping over to pick up a fair lady's
handkerchief loses its joy when it sacri
fices a suspender button.
Since pantaloons have been selling for
ten cents a pair Detroiters have begun to
look quite dressy. Courier-Journal.
"Ah, how do you vote this year,
Smith?" "Same a3 I did last at the
polls." And they passed on. Botion
Poat.
"That was a clothes shave," said the
burglar as he. tumbled over the fence,
leaving a part ol his pantaloons with the
bulldog. Life.
In Cincinnati there ia a soda fountain
called "Blizzard." It is probably so
called because so many men have been
ruined by it. Botton Post.
"No," said Amy, "I'll have the whole
hog or none." "Please don't say 'whole
hog'," remonstrated the high schoolgirl,
"say 'undivided porcine." Derrick.
Y'oung physician No, it is not in
good taste for a young physician when
writing to a patient to sign uimseii,
"Yours till death." Someroilie Jour
rial. A bit of poetry floating around in the
papers is headed: "Thee, Thee, Only
Thee." It is probably Jay Gould's ode
to the mighty dollar. Philadelphia
Chronicle.
"There! that's the summer hotel for
me." said Bigsby, pointing at an adver
tisement in his paper. "None of your
temperance houses. They advertise,
'Hops every night." Burlington Fre
Press.
If there Is anything that will make a
man cordially hate himself it iswhen he
takes a walk about a mile to the post
ofliee to find that he has left his keys at
home, and theu on going back after
them to find on opening the box that
the only thing in it is a card notifying
him that his box rent is due. Boston
Post.
At a fashionable ball, Miss Gattlefry,
who was rather careless in expressing
herself, approaches Mr. McPeal, and
says: "Supper is ready. Whydon'tyou
take a lady to eat?" "Be be because,"
replies the stuttering Mr. McPeal, "I
ner ner ner never e e eat la la
ladies." Smart mau, but he ought to
be killed. Arkansaw Tractler.
TUB UlTTEUKST BITE.
The bite of a ' 'skoeter" Is painful,
The Lite, of a bug will haunt;
The bito of a sandwich is baneful,
At a railroad restiiuraut;
The bite of aseri,iit is gadd'ning,
And nothing is worse than this;
The bite of a bull-dog is ruudd'ning,
While the bite of a girl is bliss;
But a bite more painful than kerosene
Is the bitter bite of an apple green.
AVio 1 ork Journal.
A cookery book says, "always smell a
salt codfish before buying it." We al
ways do, and after buying it, too for
three or four days after. Tho fact is,
you can smell a salted codfish without
buying it at all if you get w ithin ten rod;
of "where it is. The odor of a ealtei"
codfish is like the darkness that once
settled on Egypt; it is something tha
can bo felt. Homtrcillc Journal.
Oh, frolicsome insoct, though far you may
roam,
Bee it ever so humble, thero's no place liko
comb;
Where honey lies sparkling in licautiful wells,
Not even tho tomlw has more comfortable
Sells.
Comb, Comb! Sweet Comb!
There's no place like t'oiuul
Oh, he stung mo 1 The brute! My promise!
is s n o
Go buck to your ugly-thatched beehive onoo
more.
The wasps w ax impatient, the hornets are
mail
They want you; I don't! When you go,
bo glad!
Comb, Comb! Sweet Comb!
There's no plitou like Comb!
1U
A Story of London Life.
The circumstances were very puthetie,.
The ruined gentleman continued to main
tain the wile of bis allections in a life of
ease by presenting himself as a one le,ge i
beggar on a crowded city cros.ing, not
wil list audi rig I he conviction that it w ould
one day bring him to grief, lie wa
finally run over by bis own wife'
brougham. She had uever suspecte-l
w hat his business was till she saw the
vLutiui of the accident. ,oUs aiu.