THE FOREST REPUBLICAN It pnhllshsd every Wodnesday, by J. . WENK. OUloo in Smearbaugh & Co.'u Building KLM STREET, TIONE8TA, Pa, TernSs, - 1 1.00 per Year. No snbscrlpttoni received for a shorter period thsn three months. inu Oorrwripondence solicited from all carta ef the country. Ho notice will be taken of anonymous communications. ' TllKIiK NEVER WAS. There) never was an earthly dream Of beauty and delight That mingled not too soon with clouds. As smirnys with the night; That fadod not from that fond heart Where, once it loved to stay, And left that heart more desolate For having felt its sway. There never was a glad, bright eye, But it was dimmed with tears, Caused by such griefs as over dull The sunshine of our years. We look upon tho sweotost flower, 'Tis withered soon and gono; We gaze upon a star, to find But darkness whero It shone. There novor was a noble heart A mind of worth and power Thnt had not, in this sinful world, Some sorrow for its dower. The laurel on tho brow hath hid, From many a raroless eye, The secret of the soul within, Its font of agony. There novor was a restful soul Unmoved by grief or pain, Or sweetest hour of earthly bliss Free from sad sorrow's stain. We mark the dowdrop on the grass, In flush of early day, Yet soon tho soothing sunrays come And drink them all away. We viow the mountains stoojed in light At the first blush of day; Behold how chnngod they are at night, How dull and dense and gray, So with the birds in tuneful spring; How sweet their songs in May! Nor thought they have, nor care they take For blasts of Winter's sway. There never was a bubbling fount, An ever-flowing spring, Whoso waters to the fevered lips Unfailing wa could bring. All changes on Time's sinful shore, Or hides from mortal sight; h, for that world whero Joy and peaca Reign endless as the night! -Luther G. Biggs, in Boston Folio. UNCLE P1IIL0. "From Undo Philo!" said Jennv Kan. ford, in a tone of consternation, staring ai me signature ot mo letter she held. "By Jove!" her brother Tom ejacu lated, and emitted a long whistle, ex pressivo of deep Astonishment. "What's up?" said John Barry, from the doorway. John was not one of the household, but being engaged to Jenny, ho was noarly always on hand. "He's coming I" said Jenny, sinking into a chair despairingly. "Oh, by Jove 1" said Tom again, with a hoi rilled intonation. "You don't seem fond of him!" John observed. "Fond of him?" Jenny repeated. "We detest him! Haven't wo ever told you about him? He's the bane of our lives. You know when grandfather died, ho left most of his property to father this hou'e among tho rest. To Undo Philo (ho lives away off in Dalton; Tom and I have never seen him) to Undo Philo, who is worth, nobody knows how much father says he is the richest man in tho county he left only a thousand dollars, just a me mento. Of course ho was right; Uncle Philo didn't need tho money, and father did. But Uncle Philo wasn't satisfied." Jenny's blue eyes burned with indigna tion. "Ho wouldn't touch the thous and dollars; he wouldn't even come to poor grandfather's funeral; he declared he was goiDg to contest the will. Why he didn't was a mystery to us. Father says ho is a dreadfully determined man. But this explains it." Jenny turned to the letter with quivering lips, "llo'g simply been taking his time about it, and settling his affairs so he can leave them safely; and now he's coming out here ho stntes it boldly to look at the place, and see w hether it w ill bo worth his while to contest the will. He's a wretch 1" Jonny's feelings overpowered her. She pulled a dainty handkerchief from her pocket and sobbed into it Tom and her fiancee looking on compassionately. Sho was not given to such outbursts she, who had beon a dignilied little wo man ever since she was fourteen, fillin" her dead mother's place with absolute perfection. "I'm glad poor father's away," she said at last, raising her blonde head, "llo'd bo dreadfully worried." "It's a plagued shame!" said John, energetically restraining a desire to use a stronger adjective. "I'll thrash him within an inch of his life if ho comes here!" Tom declared. "No; wait," he added, with something of a grin "I'll introduce him to Mr. Dobbin. That will settle him!" "Mr. Dobbin?" said Jenny. "He's a man that's selling lightning rods in town," Tom explained.. "He button-holed mo yesterday, and got an order out of me beforo I knew it. He's got the longest tongue of any man I ever saw. You can't get away from him. I'll present our beloved Uncle Philo, and he'll go back to Dalton on the next train. Dobbin's coming this afternoon to put up tho rods, Jenny. Don't get him started to talk, I warn you." Jenny smiled through her tears. "You'll stay to dinner, John?" she said, more cheerfully, and vanished into the kitchen. So absorbing was the preparation of dinner, so entire her success Jenny was a born cook and so gratifying were the praises which Tom and her future lord had showered upon it, that Uncle Philo and the danger which threatened them were almost forgotten. But os she stood in the doorway and watched their departure together Tom VOL. XVIII. NO. 24. and his prospective brother-in-law were clerks in the same office she felt her in dignation returning. How contemptible, in the hardness of his mercenary heart, and the meanDOss of his motives, was this man who pro posed to rob them of their home I He, with his houses and his lands, his stocks Bnd his bonds; while her father's struggle through life had always been a hard one, and her grandfather's bequest had been unspeakably welcomo to him. Was not tho dillcrcnce great enough now? Jenny went back to her dishes, with ono small hand unconsciously clenched. She was putting the last brightly-polished glass in the cupboard, when there came a knock at the kitchen door. It was aloud, nggrcssivo sort of knock, anu jenny went to answer it timidly. What she saw reassured her merely a small man, with thin, grayish hair, and bright little eyes, and a carpet-bag about as big as himself. Ho looked up into her pretty, blonde face with a sort of astonished admiration, and came in without being invited. "I don't want to buy anything," said Jenny, with a suspicious glance at the oarnct-uag. "Our as a sudden recol lection of Tom's words came into her mind, "you're tho lightning rod man, Mr. Mr. Dobbin? Take a seat. " The little man sat down in silence, with no diminution of the admiration in his shnrp eyes. Jenny rat down, too, wondering a lit tlo at Mr. Dobbin's reserve. It did not agree with Tom's descrip tion of him; but Tom was slightly given to exaggeration. "You'll want a ladder, I suppose?" said Jenny, encouragingly. Mr. Dobbin was evidently bashful. "But where are tho rods?" Mr. Dobbin smiled a littlo, and coughed uneasily. He was overcome with timidity and embarrassment, evidently. ' Jenny's soft heart as melted with pity. "I was relieved to find it was you," she said, ploasantly, with a desperate do siro to put him at his ease. "I am ex pecting somebody else whom I am not anxious to see." "Indeed?" said Mr. Dobbin, finding his voice at last. His tone betrayed so much interest, and his bright eyes, fixed approvingly on her face, shone with such a friendly curiosity, that Jenny felt a sudden lik ing for the little man, and nn impulsive desire to pour her troubles into his sym pathizing ear. "It is my uncle," she said, with her prettiest pout. "And I abominate him. I'm very unnatural, am I not?" and she laughed. The lightning rod mau did not re spond; but he betrayed a sudden increase o'f interest. "Im unnatural," Jenny repeated. "But I don't believe an angel could feel any other way in this case." Mr. Dobbin coughed again. and wound ono of his short legs around the rungs of his chair. "Might I inquire," he said, inildiv, "what 'this case' is?" "It is the most dreadful you could im uginel" said Jenny, impressively. And, with an uneasy consciousness that sho ought not to contide it to a stranger, she launched into an indignant recital of Undo Philo's unpleasant be havior, from her grandfather's will to the present crisis. Sho even brought Undo Philo's letter, and read it aloud, with scornful emphasis, pointing out the hardhearted ness it indicated, and dwell ing on its general wickedness. "To think," sho cried, "that ho, with nil his m-mey, should begrudge us thisl It is not much; it would only inako him a little richer; but it is everything to us. And father his only brother I lie must be utterly heartless"" Her soft eyes were bright with a pret ty wrath,, and her faco was charmingly flushed. The lightning-rod man watched her with fascinated eyes. "I have thought," Jenny went on. musingly, "that if ho knew how things are, he might feel different. If he knew how hard father has always worked, and how unfortunate ho has been, and how much he needed the money, and how many things we d like to do that we can't even now how much 1, for in stance " She stopped suddenly, with a flush. Mr. Dobbin drew his chair a tittle closer. "How much you what, my dear?" he said, gently. Jenny looked at him timidly. But there was a fatherly look of kind ness and sympathy in his bright eyes which there was no resisting. "How much 1 would like to bring John a dowry a little one!" she said, softly. "I I expect to marry him, you know. And ho is only a clerk: we shall need it dreadfully." The lightning-rod man was silent. "1 m ufraid 1 have bored you," said Jenny, compunctiously ; "ami it is quite nbsurd to have told you at all." "I am glad you have," said Mr. Dob bin, with a kind smile." "But I have hindered you," said Jen ny, rising hastily. "Of course you wunted to be at work." "Not at all," Mr. Dobbin rejoined; "or that is,;i think I will come to-morrow, if it will be quite tho same." He picked up iiis carpet-bag and of fered a cordial hand, and Jenny watched him to the gato with smiling oyes. He was roally very uioe for a lightning-rod man. Tom was home early that night, and Jenny met him at tho door. "Mr. Dobbin came," she said, brightly. "And I never shall believe you nguiu. He isn't such a talker at all." "Ha isn't?" said Tom. aiuazedlv. "lie was asleep then, or temporarily jusane." t h i m frauJ' .t:ome ,t0 ihin of, lt ! I didn t give him a chance," said Jenny. i TIONESTA, PA., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 30. 1885. "You must have been hard at it to keep Dobbin quiet!" Tom ejaculated. "What were vou talking about?" "Undo Philo," Jenny replied. "I don't know how I came to; but he seemed such a nice littlo man, and so sympathetic" "Little?" cried Tom. "Dobbin little?" "Well, not tall," Jenny protested. "And then he is older than father. His hair is quite gray, and I didn't mind" "Gray? Dobbin's hair?" said Tom. lie looked at his sistor in alarm, as though ho suspected her of having taken leave of her 6onses. There was a l udden knock at the door, aud Jenny opened it. A very tall and very lanky man, with a shock of bright red hair, looked in affably. "I'm a littlo late, you seo," he ob served, nodding to Tom; "but better late than never, you'll find in this case. You'll never regret, sir, having invested in an article which no honest citizen, valuing his life and tho lives of his fam ily, can afford to bo without. And for neatncss.durability and unfailing efficacy, these rods of mine can't be beaten. Whv. sir, only last week, they saved a family of fourteen from total . destruction. There isn't a particle of doubt but what, if my rods hadn't been on that house, that family would have been " Jenny turned to her brother in be wilderment. "Don't talk, ch?" said Tom, in an amused undertone. The red-haired man, perceiving that he was not heard, disappeared, smilingly, around tho corner of the house, continu ing tho account of the rescue of the family of fourteen under his breath. "Is that the lightning-rod man?" said Jenny, anxiously. Tom nodded. The same dreadful suspicion crime into tho mind of both. "Uncle Philo!" said Jennv, faintly. "Could it have been Uncle Philo? And I told him everything! How dreadful!" "Dreadful?" said Tom, with unfeeling mirth. "I consider it extremely jolly. He knows our opinion of him, anyhow, and now let him do his worst." Uncle Philo's worst was a vast surprise to everybody. Tom came home, a week or so later, holding a thin letter, and handed it to his sister. "From Dalton," he said, solemnly. "I don't dare to have you open it. Of course it's the formal notice of Uncle Philo's proceedings against you." Perhaps there was a remembrance of a kind look in a certain pair of sharp little eyes in Jonny's mind. At any rate, she tore open the envelope bravely. It contained merely two slips of paper one a check representing a sum which it took four figures to express; the other a half-sheet of note-paper, with five words written upon it: "Your dowry from Uncle Philo." And tho will was never contested. Em ma A. Opper. Milk ani Eggs as Food. Average eggs weigh eight to tho pound. Thus a dozen eggs weigh one and a half pounds. A pound of eggs contains more nourishment than a pound of meat and boue. Hence eggs at twenty-four cents per dozen are as economical a food as beefsteak at sixteen cents per pound. There is no flesh food that may be served in so many palatable ways as eggs, nor so easily obtained by farmers. They may be boiled, poached, scrambled, fried, made Into omelets plain or mixed with herbs or salted meats, and used in a great variety of ways in cakes, Indian bread, and other cookery. Thus there are few seasons when it will be good economy in the farmer's family to stint themselves in this easily assimilable and nutritious food. Every family having an icehouse or other food storage should preserve a good supply to be used when they are scarco. They may be kept fairly well in a cold cellar if put down in the autumn. One reason why persons suppose ecrcs i lack nutrition is that they are in a semi j fluid state. Yet heat readily converts I them into a solid by coagulation. Liko I milk, eggs are perfect food, containing I all the coustituents of nourishment, and I like rare roast-beef, soft boiled eggs are j digested in three hours. Milk, like i eggs, Is capable of great variety in the cooking, aud milk and cream should i constitute a considerable portion of tho j diet in farm life, especially in the pre : partition of pudding, sauces and the I many dishes that form palatable acces sories to table eniovment. It is, thero- foro, bad economy for tho farmer's fami ly to stint hemselves in milk, cream, and eggs, on the ground that they are not solid food. Salt pork, bacon and ham are indeed solid food in the sense of in digestibility. It takes five hours to di gest either, and only strong stomachs can bear them. They should be used more as relishes than as true food on the farm in summer, as they aro everywhere j else. It should be remembered that it is simply the juices of any food that serve ' the purposes of digestion, j It is only that portion of any food I that is soluble in tho fluids of digestion j that is assimilated and taken up by the j system. Fresh meut is largoly water about 71 per cent, and that of eggs I about the same, or about that of blood, J which contains threo pel cent. more. The i marketable meat of the ox contains 10 per cent bone, so that this again would j bring eggs fully up to the standard of lean meat. The fact that tho farmer is obliged to depend so largely upon salt meat in summer, ami t ha added fact that milk, cream and eggs are especially valuable in tho preparation of salted meat dishes, render careful thought on the subject ull the more necessary. Chicago Trilunc. "Pa," said the little boy, "what is an absolute monarchy?" "I cau't exnluiu ltt U1V K0I1 s0 thllt vo t.au t.01;1 it. Wait until vou get married t youq know.-'-Ami, lndepen prebend uud then you 11 know." Aetriuan Independent. U ICELAND AND ITS PEOPLE. A COUHXBT FORMED BY VOLCANIC UPHEAVAL. Primitive liltenr of the Inhabl-tanli-Farm IMfe t'ond ol ltrad injr, ftpcaklnr many Languages. Iceland owes its existence entirely to volcanic upheaval aud has ever been one of tho most active volcanic regions of the globe. It is situated in tho North At lantic Ocean, just south of the arctic circle, which it touches, and geograph ically belongs to the Western Hemi sphere, though the circumstances of its discovery and tho political changes that took placo during tho eusuing centuries cast its lot with tho Old World. In area the island is about 40,000 square miles, or somewhat similar to the States of Maine and Ohio, but nine-tenths of this is entirely uninhabited. The farms and villages of Iceland are all contained in a narrow belt that runs around the island, and are situated in the valleys between tho mountain chains that radiate from the high land of the interior and extend far into the seo. Within this inhabitable ring tho island is one vast desert, a huge tableland that has for ages been the trysting place of nature's most violent forces. Riven aud torn and tossed the earthquake, gla cier, and volcano have united to produce a scene that cannot be equaled. For an extent of 20,000 miles there is utter deso lation, inhabited by no human being. From this tableland again rise mountains and volcanoes, singly or in groups, while the snowy domes of the Jokulls (pronounced Yae'kull, and meaning a mountain eternally covered with snow,) tower high above them all. Every century sees changes in this interior. Hills rise where before there were valleys; boiling springs disappear ot burst forth where they had not previously been known, and in the mountain sides or on tho level plain huge chasms open with reverberat ing reports and belch forth seas of molten lava. In the southwestern part of the island, about sixty miles from Reykjavik, stands Hecla, a comparatively small, though very active, volcano. Further to the eastward is tho terriblo Vatna Jokull stretching its glacier nrms and riven cliffs over tho surrounding country 4,000 miles of ice resting upon a nest of vol canoes that, perhaps, aro only waiting the time when they shall, as before, open their huge throats and gashed sides and spread destruction over sea and land, suffocating many birds, animals, and men with their noxious gases, destroy ing the fishes in the sea, and sending tho waters of the rivers hissing and screaming into the air before the ap proach of the fiery flood. The two most violent eruptions on record have occurred from this group, and several times have they spread ashes and sand over the farms that lay within the course of tho wind and over the seas for hundreds of miles. From the name and situation, one might expect to find Ireland a cold, desolate country, shrouded much of tho time in snow and bordered like the cast coast of its neighbor, Greenland, with almost impenetrable fields of ice. The Gulf Stream, however, plays an important part in modifying and equalizing the climate, and though the summers are somewhat cooler and shorter, the winters are far milder than in some parts of our own ountry. Quite a difference exists between the climates of the southern and northern parts of the island; but if we trace the isothermal or line of mean temperature, equal to that of Akurey'ri on the north coast, wo will find it leading us far south in other countries that boast of a more salubrious climate. With tho exception of the priests (Lutheran) and a few merchants, the people are all farmers. Those who live near tho sea, or one of the many fjords, combine several occupations, and thus gain a good livelihood, or even wealth. Tho priests hold their position under tho government, and are paid from the public treasury, but they generally add farming to their official duties. The merchants have their store at one of the small vil lages about the coast, and carry a stock comprising almost everything. Some times they employ agents who travel through the country buying ponies, which they ship to Scotland, or perhaps they own a small vessel which coasts around the island buying oil and codfish. The farmer obtains all the necessaries of life from the land and waters around him. The rocks and turf are his build ing material, iho bogs furnish inex haustible supplies of peat for fuel, tho rivers swarm with salmon during the summer, and tho sheep yield wool for his clothing. If near the sea, the almost domesticated eider duck contributes its eggs and down, the seals and sharks give oil for his light, and codfish are added to his winter ttores. Once a year he journeys to Reykjavik or one of the smaller villages and barters his produce for things thut serve to make his isolated life more comfortable. Usually wool and eider down are the things bi ought. For these he is given credit by the merchant, and permitted to draw his yearly supply of goods, consisting of ryemeal, flour, coffee, sugar, calico and lumber. Upon the farms the houses, with very few exceptions, . are clusters of low, turf-covered huts with gable ends, doors and window frames of wood, and, if seen from a dis tance, are not easily recognized by the stranger. Sheep and even ponies are fre quently seen upon the roofs in quest of the grass that glows more luxuriantly there than in the pastures; but the in terior of the houses is often made verv comfortable by paneling and flooring with wood, painted, and sometimes nicely furnished. Not having much to do at any season, not caring to exert himself beyond his yearly uecessities.the Icelander finds much time for reading, his favorite occupation. One who cuu not both read and write is not to be rl $1,50 PER ANNUM. found, and indeed, as a whole, they are one of the best educated people on the globo. Well informed in history, geo graphy, ond literature, especially of their own country, tho traveler is often sur prised to find these people conversing very intelligently about persons and events of all countries and ages, though they themselves may never have been out of sight of their own island. A faculty for learning languages is certainly a trait of these people, as every day ono meets persons who converse fluently in Danish and English, aud perhaps Ger man or French or even Latin. This in tho towns and villages where they come in contact with people of other nations. Further inland no chanco is afforded for practice, but many of tho peoplo read un derstanding y languages which they do not speak. There are those on the island who have traveled extensively in other countries, and having studied their institutions and learned of the peo ple, are now trying to give their coun trymen the benefit of that knowledge and to gain from other people that recog nition to which their native land is cer tainly entitled. Two or three learned societies lead a flourishing existence here; and after years of inactivity the country is again bringing forth authors and scholars who cannot but bo recog nized among thoso of other nations. At several places on the island there are well equipped printing offices. From these, every year, are turned out books, tho workmanship of which, both in typo graphy and binding, often surprises the visitor. At Reykjayik, four modest, but ably conducted, newspapers appear reg ularly, two of them weekly and one each bi and tri-monthly. At Akurey'ri we find two more, and at Seydisfjord, on the east coast, another, each appearing thirty times a year. New York Times. Evolution of tho Cake. In 1754 Christopher Ludwick, a native of Hesse-Darmstadt, a baker by trade, settled in Philadelphia and opened a shop on Fifth street, above Race, which was then quite suburban. Ludwick had been both a soldier and a sailor, having served in the former capacity in the Aus trian army during the war against the Turks, and afterward on one of the ships of Frederick tho Great. Ho sailed to both tho East and West Indies, and learned to make pastries of all sorts. He soon acquired a reputation in Philadel phia as a baker of gingerbread, which was then considered quite a luxury, and in a few years he became the possessor of a comfortable fortune. When the war for independence begun, Ludwick took an active part in the affairs of the struggling colonies, and in 1776 acted as a volunteer, serving without pay. In 1777 the Continental Congress appointed him "Baker General" to the army. Ho was required to furnish 100 pounds of bread for every 100 pounds of flour that passed through his hands. Ludwick protested that he would not make himself rich in that way. He said he could make 135 pounds of bread from 1U0 pounds of flour. He was as good as his word, and as long as he could obtain flour the Conti nental soldiers did not suffer for bread. Washington had great respect for his shrewd common sense and sterling in tegrity. He often invited Ludwick to dine with him, and spoke of the shrewd old baker as "his honest friend." Tho war crippled him financially, but he still managed to live in considerable comfort from tho profits of his ginger bread sales. One of his most valued possessions was a letter from General AVushington thanking him for his service as "Baker General." Ho called this his "diploma," and hung it, suitably framed, in a conspicuous place in his little shop. Before he died his fortune mended and he left considerable property in charity, and an excellent receipt for making gin gerbread. He died in 1801, and is burled in the Lutheran cemetery at Mount Airy. His tomb is now gray and moss grown. Christopher Ludwick was the father of the fancy-cake business in Phila delphia. In his time homely molasses gingerbread was a luxury. To-day ono Philadelphia bakery puts on tho market between two and three hundred styles of pastry and is constantly adding to this stock every day. There are live great bakeries in the city engaged in the manu facture of cakes. They ship their goods all over the country, to China, Australia, tho East Indies, and that homo of pastries, England. Christopher Ludwick mixed his dough in a wooden trough, and baked his sweot cakes in an old-fashioned brick oven. A dozen labor-savin'' machines take the place of the old hand labor, and the patent ovens are heated by steam. Philadelphia Times. I'tilizin- Meakey. Perhaps the only attempts which have been made to civilize the money is in Malabar, India, says Dr. A. H. Ward. A fine species indigenous in this quarter is the Neligherry langur. The natives here have fanning machines called the punka. In other days tho punka, which consists of a moveable frame covered with canvass and suspended from tho ceiling, was kept in motion by a slave lulling a cord. An English officer con ceived the idea of teaching the langur to do the work. He took one of the species and tied its hands to ihe cord, while by means of another cord the ma chine was- kept in motion. The move ment of the cord is up and down, and of course, the monkey's hands beiug tied to it, went up and down, and the animal saw the machine move. Its master pat ted its head and fed it with candy, und the langur soon learned to think U fun to work the machine. When 1 was in Malabar securing specimens of this .'pecies, I saw thousands of them work ing the punka, the Indians having im mediately put the animals in captivity when they saw their utility. "What causes pnin?" asks an exchange. It is the boy's mother, viy often. t'uek. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One 8qoare, one Inch, one insertion. ,...f 1 00 One Sqnare, one hirh, one month..., I 00 One Square, one Inch, three months. t 00 One Square, one Inch, one year 10 00 Two Squares, one year g 00 Quarter Column, ono year to 00 Half Column, one year SO 00 One Colnmn, one year ...........100 00 Local advertisements ten cents per line eaob la scrtion. Marriage and death notice, gratis. All bills for yearly advertisements collected qnar. terly. Temporary advertisements must be paid In advance. Job work cash on delivery. YOUTH. Oh, strange inconsequence of youth, When days were lived from band to month, And thought ran round an empty ring In foolish, sweet imagining. We handled love in childish fashion The name alone and not the passion The world and life were things so small, Our little wit encompassed all I We took our being as our faith For granted, drew our easy breath And rarely stayed to wonder why We were set here to live and die. Vague dreams we had, a grander Fate Our lives would mold and dominate, Tib we should stand some far-off day More godlike than of mortal clay. Strong Fate! we meet thee but to find A soul and all that lies behind, We lose Youth's Paradise and gain A world of Duty and of Pain. English Illustrated Magazine. HUMOR OF THE DAY. Tho cup that inebriates but don't cheer Hiccup. A littlo girl described nervousness as 'just being in a hurry all over." A woman may work from sun to sun But a collector's work is always dun. The Rambler. Tho most striking thing in the way of bronze mantel ornaments A clock. Life. There aro 240 bones in a man. Man compares poorly with a shad. Boston Transcript. "All I want is justice," said tho tramp. "Three months," said the justice. Phil adelphia Call. A woman and a fiddle are something alike. They always come out strongest when there is a beau about. Boston Budget. There is a gorge in Yellowstone park where no sound can be heard. Not a bad place to keep house. Chicago Ledqer. He is a mean father who will paint the top of the garden gate every evening and buy fresh bulldogs as fast as they come along. Fall liiver Advance. 'A penny for your thoughts!" said she, "I can't their object guess." "Why, seek, my dear, to buy," said he, "That which you now possess." Life. "He's a man of big calibre," remarked Jones to Brown, speaking of an acquaint ance. "Indeed?" was the reply, "how do you make that out?" "lie's a great bore." "Oh," murmured Brown, and fainted away. Merchant-Traveler. "To clean the teeth use a mixture of emery and mixed oil, following it with plenty of kerosene." This would seem to be queer advice, but as it is taken from a machinists' magazine, and from a chapter relating to circular saws, we have no doubt it is given in good faith. Boston 1'ost. Theso are the days when tho young man puts on knee-breeches and stock ings and mounting a bicycle starts on a long tour, feeling perfectly happy till a sixteen-year-old country girl with blue eyes as big as saucers, shouts: "Hey,' mister, come here and I'll lend you money enough to buy legs for them pants. " Philadelphia News. He (afraid she will order the second plate) "Did you know they make ice cream of glucose, gelatine, corn starch, castor oil, skimmed milk, oleomargarine, cayenne pepper and strychnine?" She (licking out the dish) "No, I didn't know that, but I've noticed they are so stingy in filling their dishes that ono has to eat two plates in order to get enough." Chicago 2erald. How doth the little mosquito Improve the midnight dark, To leave on forehead and on limb His sanguinary mark. How skillfully he plies his bill, How neat he makes attacks ; Then stores himself in parts unseen. And dodges all the whacks. Springfield Union. A Viz Storm Wave. Captain Pniselle, of the White Star steamship line, contributes this to a group of storm wove stories: I was oil tho coast of Japan, captain of one of tho finest steamships afloat. We were in a typhoon. They call them typhoons there, but they are identical in character with our own cyclone aud the African tornado. It was an awful storm, the worst I ever saw. The wind howled and shrieked and raved liko a million demons loosed from the Styx. Tho seas struggled with each other for our pos session, and roared the most infernal noiso as they broko over us in merciless force.. The sky was inky, but not a drop of water fell. My chief otiiocr and myself were standing on the bridge direct ing the helm. Suddenly, directly in front of us, about 100 yards away, I saw a most prodigious mountain of water. Its toweriug crest was lashed into a white foam, and appeared just between the two yards of the mast. Above the din of the storm I could hear the awful bass roar of that monster wave as it came to ward us like a steam engine. 1 turned to my officer. His face was ns white as chalk. ' 'Here's the last of our good boat, ruy boy,' 1 said, and turned her nose right iuto the wave. "Her bow roso until wo were almost perpendicular. I almost thought we should be thrown over. The crest struck us and blinded me so that I could not sec. Aud then, so sure as I am an honest man, her bow fell and her keel rose, und we passed over that most terrific wave as gently as a chip over a mill-pond ripple I uevcr was so dumbfounded in my life, for I fully expec'.ed that moment to be the last that ship would ever know. These yarns, mind you, aie my own per sonal experiences, und I give mv word of honor for their truth. "
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers