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No inbtcrlptlsm rccelred for a hotter period
tlmn three moniln.
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ertion.
yarriage and death notices rratla.
All bills for yearly advertipemeatl collected qnar.
terly. Temporary adrerilaemenU moat aald In
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Job work caah en delivery.
VOL. III. NO. 42.
TIONESTA. PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1887.
$1 50 PER ANNUM1
a
f
The question of taxing bachelors is
efWn up in France. There aro said to
be nearly 500,000 in Paris alone, against
0,000 marrieu men.
More than twenty co-operative schemes
' havo been started by workingmen's
unions during the pttst few weeks in
various parts of the count) ''.
)--5.V What is called a 'scat" in the New
York Stock Exchange was recently sold
. Uor 129,000, but the man who bought it
s(wlll have to stand up all day and rfhout
, for stocks at th Aop of his voice in order
to make a profit on his investment.
The Harvard College annex for women
seems to flourbh. The 4ast report shows
that there wero seventy-three students
in attendance, against fifty-five during
the previous year. Twenty-two of these
were enrolled in the undergraduate
classes and the remainder were special
students.
Coffee, of a total value of about $47,
. 000,000, is brought into the United
States annually, and two-thirds of the
total comes to Brooklyn. In the great
storehouses which stretch along Furman
t street, Brooklyn, and' surround the At
lantio Basin, all this vast quantity of
. coUoos stored on its first arrival.
The quilt stories of .the present season
start out very modestly with Ihe an
nouncement that a quilt containing i5,162
pieces of calico was made by Mrs. Mattio
Wooten, of Viola, Tenn. No two pieces
in the quilt are alike, each one having
been taken from different pieces of cal
ico. It required several years to gather
material for this quilt.
A man living in Armstrong, Mo., has
just died from swallowing a bean. In
order to allay any apprehension which
tins announcement may cause it should
be added that the bean was raw. It
sprouted, producod inflammation, and
six of the best physicians in the neigh
borhood could not tell what was the
matter until they made their post-mortem
exploration.
""' Over 5,000 Indian children are now
attending schools supported by the Gcn
, eral Government, religious societies and
the State of New York. At Hampton
Institute, Virginia, a number of married
couples are in attendance, and six cot
tages have been erected for their use.
About fifty Indian girls have been ad
mitted to tho public schools of Philadel
phia and they mingle with tho white
children in attendance. Nine out of
twelve prizes offered for proficiency were
taken by Indian girls, the first being
given to one of the Omahas.
According to a recent calculation the
amount of paper annually made in the
world, from all kinds of materials, is
1,800,000,000 pounds, of which half is
used for printing purposes; a sixth for
writing purposes, und the remainder for
miscellaneous purposes. For govern
ment purposes, 200,000,000 pounds are
used; for .instruction, 180,(K)0,000
pounds; for commerce, 240,000,000
pounds; for industrial manufacture,
180, 000,0 JO pounds; for private corre
spondence, 1,000,000 pounds, and for
printing, 0,000,000. These 1.800,000,
000 pounds are produced in 3,000 manu
factories, employing 00,000 men aud
181,000 women,
i' "
Ohio proposes lo have a State ccnten
. nial all to itself in 1888. In 1788 the
first settlement was made on its territory
at the confluence of the Muskingum and
Ohio llivers. dne of the leaders in the
movement thus summarizes the object
and character pf the exposition : "In the
new State fair grounds wo propose to
gather a centennial exposition of Ohio's
progress in its first ceutur;, as exempli
fied by its pioneer lifo, and we will also
exhibit tho progress and the improve
ment shown in all industrial and educa
. tional pursuits. Our exhibition will be,
therefore, historical, progressive, educa
tional aud illustrative of the first 100
years of growth in the West as exempli
fied in its oldest state, and we invite all
to come aud see the result of a century."
The London l.annt says that "cholera
has again shown 6igns of activity, and
its progress is further in the direction of
eastern Europe. Several deaths from
this disease are stated to have occurred
in a village in tho vicinity of Tiruova, in
Bufgaria, the infection being nllcgwd to
have resulted from the importation of
some clothing belonging to a man who
had died of cholera in Hungary, where
there have already been 9H0 cases and
400 deaths,. The disease still lingers in
certain parts of Hungary and Ualicia, j
aud if we have a recurrence of the epi
demic in 1887, it is by no means improb-
able that it may take its start from some !
of the localities more recently infected I
iu the Austro-Hungarian empire. The '
piepared o withstand its progress than
was the west."
NOTHING IS LOST.
Nothing Is lost; the drop of dew
Which trembles in the leaf or flower
Is but exhaled to fatl anew
In Summer's thunder shower.
Perchance to shine within the bow
That fronts the sun at fall of day;
Perchance to sparkle in the flow
Of fountains faraway.
Nothing lost the tiniest seed
By wild birds borne or breezes blown,
Finds something suited to its need,
Wherein 'tis sown and grown
The language of some household song,
The perfume of some cherished flower,
Though gone from outward sense, belong
To Memory's after hour.
So with our words: orSliarsh or kind,
Uttered, they are not all forgot;
They haveheir t influence on the mind,
Pass on but perish not
So with our deeds; for good or ill
They have their power scarce understood;
Then let us use our better will
To make them rife with good.
-Nellie M Ward.
BITTER AND SWEET.
By MART N. PRE8COTT.
It was in the autumn that the news of
the loss of the ship Albatross reached the
small town of Haven. She had foun
dered on her way to Calcutta, and Aleck
Fanshawe was on board as supercargo.
"It isn't as though Squire Fanshawe
hadn't other sons, commiserated a
neighbor, when the bliuds were pulled
down and crape tied on the knocker at
the big stone mansion, and prayers were
offered in church for the bereaved family
and friends. Everybody in town, so to
speak, t:rned out to church on that Sep
tember morning to see how the family
took it, and to be able to criticise tho
funeral sermon. The Fanshawes had
been a gay, wqrldly crowd, and this was
their first sorrow, and those who had
seen them in prosperity and joy wanted
to behold the effect of tho reverse; but
they proved to be a family who did not
wear tne Heart on tho sleeve; they con
ducted themselves bravely behind their
weeds.and restrained their tears till they
might flow in private. The only excitu
ment of tho occasion, however, was
worthy of the expectations of their
friends. The family filed into church,
black as grief and crape courd make
them. Tnere were John and his mother,
Sue and Ilildegarde; but who was this
other on the old Squire's arm, bowed
with emotion, more sable than them all,
in widow's veil and cap? Who? Why,
it was only Louise Turner, whom they
had always known. Why was she in
widow's weeds and on the Squire's arm?
What had happened to her? There was
lively" gossip, you may bo sure, that day,
on the way homo from church.
"I remember he, was kind of attentive
to Louise Turner ono spell," reflected
Mrs. Ames.
"That's io," echoed Mrs. Blake.
"Don't you remember he took her to a
concert over to Danvers? He has al
ways known her; and like as not there
was something between them."
" So he has always known every other
girl in town," said Mrs. Blunt, the skep
tic; "and ho has been just as attentive
to nan a do. en others, as far as I can
see."
"Yes," acknowledged Mrs. Ames, re
luctantly, "he was attentive to all of
them on and oil; but then a man may bo
attentive to a do.en, you know, while he
only cares for one. It's odd; a woman
couldn't do it; it would bore her horri
blythat is, uuless she's a llirt."
"Well, of course its true." sighed
Mrs. Blunt, "or else she wouldn't be in
widow's weeds and in the Squire's pew;
but she's the last girl I thought Aleck
would care for. I can't reconcile myself
toit.'
The interest and surprise of this event
seemed to subtract something from the
solemnity of the occasion. It was not so
wonderful that Aleck Fanshawe should
die as that he should have been engaged
to Louise Turner and no one ever have
fucsscd it It perplexed and disturbed
Irs. Blunt, she could hardly tell why.
Perhaps she was disappointed that
Aleck should have cared lor such a shal
low girl as Louise; aud then a surprise
has an irritating cllect upon some
natures. fc-he upbraided herself
for having so little sympathy for
Louise iu such a tremendous sorrow.
Louiso was pretty ; everybody said Louise
was pretty, and young men are easily
pleased. Doubtless it had occurred at
the last moment before his dcparturc,and
Louise had waited for his return to de
clare it. Aleck had been tho best match
in town, and, love aside, this was a great
blow for Louise, with whom everybody
was bound to sympathize. But Mrs.
Blunt was dissatisfied with the quality as
well as quantity of her own sympathy.
"It seems, ''said neighbor who hap
pened in to talk it over "it scums that
Louise heard the rumor, and rushed up
to (-quire Fanshawe s to know the truth,
and when it was verified she went
straight into hysterics, and confessed
that they had been privately engaged.
Of course the Squire adopted her into the
family at once. They bought her mourn
ing, the very best, and I dare say they'll
give her Aleck's property you know ho
had a fortune from his own mother, tho
Squire's first wife."
"Have you heard that John refused to
believe it at first?" asked .Mrs. Blunt.
"Ves; he was a little still at first; ho
never liked Louise," you know."
"It seems to me I shouldn't want to
take it on trust as they ve done. I
should want to see letters in his own
banc, or something confirmatory, not just
her woid for it."
"It seems to me it would be a tremen
dous cruelty to turn a deaf car to her nt
such a time, and refube to believe her
story."
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Blunt. " 'Better
be cheated to the last, than lose the
blessed hope of truth,' as some poet
says."
It was a few days after thess aston
ishing events that Miss Hetty I.e Breton
returned from a vacation at tho moun
tains, without having beard of the dis
aster that had overtaken the Fanshawes.
"When I am married," she said, in the
enthusiasm of a first acquaintance with
the mountains, "I shall take my wedding
tour through the hills in a buggy; its
just enchantment. Any letter for me,
Aunt Ellen? Any news?"
"News? Oh dear yes toomuch. I
didn't write you because I didn't want
to sadden your vacation. And you and
Aleck were always such friends."
"Aleck!"
"Yes. Tho Albatross has been lost at
sea. and the Fanshawes aro just heart
broken, and Louise is there with them;
it seems she was engaged to Aleck pri
vately ; and her widow's weeds are very
becoming. It's a dreadful, dreadful
thing for her; but they say the Squire
has about the same as adopted her. and
that she'll have the lion's share of Aleck's
money. Ske went in on the Squire's
own arm when the funeral sermon was
preached; it was very touching. Why
don't you say something, Betty? I al
ways thought you aud Aleck were good
friends; and Louise "
"What is there to say?" Betty asked,
directly. There was an odd lustre in her
eyes, but she was not crying; she looked
petrified.
You might at least say you were
sorry."
'sorry? Oh yes" absently "I sup
pose so."
"Why, Betty, haven't you any feel
ing?" "I don't know. Perhaps not. What
good would it do?"
"Aleck was such a good friend to
you! Do you remember when he used
to come and help you with your German?
I used to think he was a little in love
with you, Betty; but it seems I was mis
taken: ami for the matter of that, it
doesn't signify, now that he is dead.
Indeed, it's better for you as it is; you
are spared tho sorrow. Why, Betty, aro
you sick? Is anything the matter?"
. Betty had risen with a great cry, and
was stretching out unavailing arms into
space. "lie is dead Aleek aud he
loved her, and she has a right to her sor
row ; and I "
' It was three months before Betty Lo
Breton was able to sit up. The neigh
bors said she had come home from the
mountains with malaria, and it was
doubtful if she would ever get it out of
her system. . Miss Le Breton, her aunt,
wisely said nothing; but when she saw
Louise in her funereal garments driving
by in Squire Fanshaw's carriage, she
wondered if Betty were not far more
miserable. Betty herself wondered why
she did not die in that bitter season of
despair. There seemed tD be nothing
to detain ner nere; me naa come to a
standstill. It was not that Aleck had
died; . she could, have borne that,
perhaps, and sorrowed bravely, and
yet have lived on. That would
have been grief enough, to be sure,
for one heart to bear; but she would still
have possessed the tender assurance of
his love. to. compensate her. She would
not have lost him utterly ; she could have
lived on,- with the certainty oi meeting
him unchanged at last, just as she had
existed through her tedious work-a-days,
sure of his companionship at their close
the one brightness in all her sombre
days, the hours that were never absent
from her thoughts, the hope that had
carried her through till diiliculties un
complainingly. Now there was nothing
for her to live for or to die for. It seemed
to her that tho bloom was stripped from
the world. She rould not reconcile her
self to her changed condition, nor adjust
herself to the belief that Aleck had cared
nothing for her through all the years that
had b on to her like heaven on earth
that he had merely been passing tho time.
She felt as if the solid earth had failed
beneath her feet, and her life stretched
out before her in dreary and barren per
spective. If she could ouly be allowed
to preserve the illusion that he loved her,
wherever ho might be, that would have
sufficed for happiness, would have gilded
all the empty years she must spend on
earth without tho sun of his presence.
But people do not die when they have
nothing to live for. Betty's aunt trusted
to time to mitigate the blow; she remem
bered that she had hersclt once hud a lover
who deserted her; that she had cried her
eye-; out, and had given away all her jewel
ry, and liclieved she was done with every
thing; but ten years later ho passed her
window daily, a bald, gouty man from
whom thes glamour had fled. Hut she
had forgotten that he had robbed her
of the power of loving any one else, and
that other lovers had sighed in va n.
When Betty first went out, and began to
resume her ordinary life as if nothing
had happened, tho Squire's family had
gone abroad, and had taken Louise Tur
ner with them to lighteu tho shadow of
their grief; and a stone in the Suir's
lot in the cemetery recorded the fact that
Aleck Fanshawe had lived and died.
It would have been a melancholy com
fort to Hetty to hang wreaths upon that
great white stone that confronted her
like a ghost among the shrubbery, to
plant flowers about it. Hut how could
she lavish such loving trifles in memory
of thy man who had deprived her of the
poor privilege of wccp'ng for him?
She sometimes felt as if she would like
to leave liaven forever; every road and
stile and bit of wood reminded her of
Aleck. It was here he met her on her
daily walk from school; it was in the
wood they gathers 1 the autumn leaves,
and came home laden with spoils; on
this river the moonlight had found
them: on this wild bank Aleck had fat
and sketched the scene for her; beneath
this tree he had read to her from the
poets. The vcy air of the places
they had frequented together seemed
rilled with the tender words he
had spoken. Could it be that he had
not cared? ' Why, then, hid he spent his
last evening ashore with her? He had
left early, to be sure, saying he must
pack and be off by daybreak. Had he
gone from her to Louise? The bough of
scarlet berries he had given her that
night had hung in her room ever since,
where her eyes would see it on waking.
Tho first time she was able to walk across
tho room after her illness she took it
down and threw it upon the open fire;
indeed, she took out all of his letters for
the same purpose, but put them back
again, not strong enough to abandon
them all at once.
It was summer at Haven, but it wai
not summer in Hetty Le Breton's heart.
I think she remembered other Junes,
whose llowers were no sweeter, whose
woods were no greener Junes that had
borrowed something of their charm from
her own happiness, that like the moon
shone with borrowed light. She was
trying to sing one of tho old songs at her
piano one twilight songs she had sung
wun i iecK in ineir anves tnrougn tne
woodland aisles, where they had loved
to linger; but the sobs choked her, and
the tears crowded and jostled each other
in her eyes; and suddenly, when the last
vibration of the notes had ceased, a voice
outside took up the strain and sang it
through.
"It is Aleck," she cried, hurrying to-w-ard
the piazza like one in a dream.
Then she waked, turned back, and sat
down. Supposing it was Aleck, he be
longed to Louise. Of course it was a
mistake. It was because she had been
thinking about him. Aleck was dead,
and she had no right to think of him.
She never would think of him again
never; she would forget him, as he had
forgotten her. Dead Or alive, he could
be nothing to her nothing, nothing.
He had broken her heart: could one
love with a broken heart?
Somebody was coming into tho room
with a lighted lamp, preceded by excit
ed voices. It was Miss Le Breton, fol
lowed by Mrs. Ames.
' ' Isn't it marvellous?" she was saying.
" Suh a shock, too, for the Squire's
family, just as they wero getting used to
the idea of death 1" ,
'But is it true?" asked Miss Le
Breton.
Fetty had shrunken into the dark cor
ner of the long room (which one lamp
only illuminated in patches) in order to
hido the tears upon her eyelids.
" True as preaching. I was just get
ting into the train for Haven this after
noon I had been up to town for a trifle
of shopping and I heard a familiar
voice saying, ' Allow me to carry your
bundle, Mrs. Ames.' It made me shiver
and my blood curdle. I looked over my
shoulder, expecting to see a ghest a
railway station's a queer place for a
ghost, though, isn't it? Well, there
stood Aleck Fanshawe. I shan't be any
more surprised tit the Day of Judg
m.nt." " What a change!" cried Miss Le Bre
ton; " and they are all in their mourn
ing, and the stone up in the cemetery,
and the estate administered upon. I
wonder where Betty is?"
"Yes, seems as though they'd been to
a mortal lot of expense for nothing."
"And what a happy day for Louise
Turncri" sighed Miss Le Breton. "I
suppose he has cabled to his father?"
.Mrs. Amei answered with a hearty
laugh. "That's tho oddest part of it.
He asked about all the folks, coming
down in the train; ho didn't know they'd
gone to Europe. And he asked first of
all after you, Betty upon my word I
'And you don't want to know about
Louise?' said I. 'Louise who?' said he.
'Why, Louise Turner, of course.' 'What
about her? Is she married, or dead?'
'Married!' I cried; 'why, Aleck Fan
shawe, are you mad, or making believe?
Didn't you expect that Louise Turner
would confess her engagement to you,
you ly old dog, after the news of your
death?' 'Confess her engagement to me?'
he repeated, and he looked like a thunder
bolt. I was frightened. 'You don't
mean to say you weren't engaged to her?'
I said. 'Now she's just like one of the
family wears widow's weeds for you,
and went to church on the Squire's Hrm
when your funeral sermon was preached !'
'engaged to her!' he cried: 'I never
thought of it.- I am engaged to Betty
I e Breton, and 1 never loved any one
else.' I thought I'd iiin over and pre
pare your mind," pursued .Mrs- Ames,
"for fear of the shock. Where's Betty?'
Squire Fanshawe's family returned in
season for Betty's wedding, and she took
her wedding tour through the White
Mountains, after all. But Louise Turner
neverappeared in Haven again. JIurjxr't
Bazar.
How Horses Rest.
"Horses can get some rest standing,"
said an old trainer recently, "provided
the position be reasonably easy, but no
full rest except recumbent. It is knowu
of some horses that they never lio down
in the stall, though if kept in pasture
they take their rest habitually in a re
cumbent position. It is well to consider
whether the habit has not been forced
upon the liorso by some circumstance
connected with the stall he was made to
occupy, in that it had a muddy eaith
lloor, or ono made of dilapidated plunk,
uncomfortable and olTuusive to tin; horse
that had been accustomed to select his
own bed in the pasture. If tho horse
can have the privilege of selecting his
own position for resting on his feet, he
can sleep standing; but while his
muscles may be to a certain degree re
laxed and get rest in that position, what
can ba said of the bearings at the joints
Without relief through the recumbent
position, the joint surfaces are forced
continually to bear a we'ght varying from
1,001) to I, SOD pounds. This must act
un'avorably, especially upon tho coin
plhuted structures within the hoofs
which n iture intended should have
periods of rest each d-v." Sea IVrA
Muil and Lxrts
MR. AND MUS. BOWSER.
MBS. BOWSEB'8 ACCOUNT OF SOME
FAMILY- DISCUSSIONS.
Mr. It. Suddenly Developer a Fond
ness fbr Tit les Whpre Is Zanzi
bar? What Wan Ijonefellow?
Mr. Bowser is a great man to break
out in spots." The other evening, after
he had lighted a cigar and got his feet
braced on the mantel ho suddenly ob
served :
".Mrs. Bowser, has it never occurred
to you to call me Judge?"
"Never P I promptly replied, for ho
had complained of the biscuit at supper.
"Nor Colonel?"
"No!"
"Whilo I could probably have gono
to the Supreme bench, or been commis
sioned Colonel," he softly continued, "I
did not care for the honor. I am not
one, Mrs. Bowser, to clutch at titles in
order to lift myself up, but I didn't
know but it might please you to be
known as Mrs. Judge Bowser."
"I don't want the title."
"Very well, Mrs. Bowser. If you
have no Are for social distinction I'm
sure I haven't. If your ambition is to
plank yourself in the house with that
wall-eyed baby and pay no attention to
the demands of society I might as well
join another lodge."
I felt a bit conscience-stricken over
the wav I had acted, and after awhile I
went out and told the cook to call him
Judge when she came in with the last
scuttle of coal. When she came she
managed to bump him to give her an
excuse for saying: "Excuse me, Con
stable excuse me!"
There was a solemn silence for five
minutes after she left the room. Then
Mr. Bowser observed :
"Perhaps, on the whole, Mrs. Bowser,
it would be as well not to attempt to call
me by any title. Hired help is so stu
pid, you know?"
On a late occasion, as our 'fireside was
a scene of peace and happiness, Mr.
Bowser softly remarked:
"Mrs. Bowser, whenever it comes
handy you'd better throw out hints to
your la ly friends that you were educated
abroad."
"Why?"
"Well, it will increase their respect
for you."
"But I was educated in the little red
school house at Perryville, you know,
and have never been out of the State."
"Don't talk so loud, as Jane may be
listening! I told a friend only the
other day that I was educated abroad,
and had been through all the art galler
ies of Europe."
"What place did you say you studied
at?"
"Zanzibar."
"Why, my dear, that's in Africa!"
"It is! Now that shows what you
know! Zanzibar is in Germany. Mrs.
Bowser, I don't want to crow over you
on the subject of education, but when
you display such lamentable ignorance
of geography I have to feel glad that my
sch ol days were not wasted."
"I say it's in Africa 1"
"Mrs. Bowser!"
"And I'll prove it by the atlas!"
"If you do I'll give you $50 in cash!"
I got out tho atlas, and there, over on
the east coast of the Dark Continent was
Zanzibar, as every school-child knows.
"I'll take that fifty," I quietly re
marked. "No, you won't I Some fool of a map
maker has gone and got drunk aud
mixed things up, and I'm not going to
pay for it. When I km;w that Zanzibar
is in Oernuny I kriow It just as well as
the atias or anybody else."
"Did this friend of yours a k you what
old master you preferred?"
"Yes, ma'am, and I was posted there,
too. You may think I go sloshing
around with both eyes shut and my
tongue . hanging out. Mrs. Bowser, but
that's whero you aro dead ltyuo. I told
him I ongf oiler."
'.'.Mr. Bowser!"
"What now! You don't s'poso I said
Sam Patch or Buffalo Bill, do you?"
"But Longfellow was not a painter at
all, ho was a poet."
lie drew in his breath u-.-til his faeo
was as rod as a beet, and he jumped up
and down aud tlourshcd his arms like a
wind-mill, and finally got voice to roar
out.
"I'll bet you nino hundred thousand
million quadrillion dollars to that old
back comb in your hair! Mrs. Bowser,
such assumption and assurance on your
part is unbearable!"
".lane may hear you."
"Jane bo hanged, and you, too! Mrs.
Bow.-er, I demand an apology for this
insu t !"
"Wait till I prove that Longfellow was
not an artist, but a poet."
"I'll give you a million dollars if you
Uo it."
I got down the volume of poems by
Longfellow which Mr. Bowser nad given
mo the year before, and then 1 went to
tho encyclopedia and made a tight case
on him. He was at first inclined to
give in, but directly he struck tho table
Huch a blow that baby screamed out.
and then shouted :
"I h e how it is! You are looking for
Longfel o v all t ie time, and I distinctly
stated ti ar it was Long i'l :' If the
primers hiv gut drunk and left tho
name out am I to bl'imef '
".Mr. Bowser, I believe I will say I
was educated abroad I believe I will do
it to please you "
'Mi! you will! Well, you needn't do
anything of the kind! Folks would all
know by your fieckle that you sat in
tho sun in some country school foundry'
.Mr. Bowser, you've broken up tho
peace of this fireside by yo ir malicious
conduct, and you needn't set up for mo
to night! I may not come homo before
to ni'irrow!'' JJrtroit 'ire l'n,i.
A I oiiisiuna judge decides that a man
who loses money at poker may recover
from the nidti who sells him the chips.
WHAT IS IT TO THEE?
"Twaa a wintor clay, and white with new
snow;
I saw a little maid past the window go,
With a bright, bright hood, and a face fnii
to aoo
But what was it to me! i
For I was a boy that looked through tho
glass.
And nodded to see the little maid pass,
With the scarlet hood and fringe of fur
And what was it to her?
'Tis winter; the white snow is new again;
I stand with a woman and look through Ui
pane;
Mayhap like the sweet hooded maid is she
But what is it to thee?
James Vila BlaUe.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
A bad sign Endorsing a worthless
note.
The poet who sings' of the light and
fleecy snow never shoveled oil a side
walk. Philadelphia Call.
There is a man in Burlington so bow
legged that when the children are play
ing cars they use him for a tunnel.
Lurlington Free 1'na.
An Indiana girl has been born without
a mouth. She will very soon begin to
realize that she has forgotten something.
Hurlington Free 1'rem.
We notice in a newspaper some verses
headed: "The Seven iges of Woman."
After a woman is thirty she abolishes the
other six. HSumcrvile Journal.
His mamma warned him.
But the boy knew best;
And now a pain ho carries
'Neath his vest.
Merchant Traveler.
An astronomer claims to have dis
covered stars lately which the most
powerful telescopes are unable to reveal.
We advise him to sprinkle ashes on' his
sidewalk. Life.
"Ah, my beloved, may I hope to clasp
you to-morrow to my bosom and depict
to you again our future happiness in the
glowing colors of phantasy" "No,
love, not to-morrow to-morrow is washing-day.''
V' ieijende Maetter.
THE CONTENTED MAX.
Who would the most contented mortal see,
lie need not ride the country spurned and
booted ;
For sure the chimney sweep is he,
bince he so constantly is sooted.
Ilotiton Courier.
The man who is in tho habit of using
profano language should be brave ana
strong and able at all times to defend
himself and his opinions, for if ever at
any time he should be obliged to eat his
own words, ho would doubtless find the
dose extremely unpalatable. Boston
Courier.
"And that is silver ore, is it?" said
Mrs. Snaggs, as she examined a piece of
curious-looking mineral. "Ves, my
dear," replied her husband. "And how
do they get the silver out?" "They smelt
it." "Well, that's queer," she added,
after applying her nose to the ore; "I
smelt it, too, but didn't get any silver."
ntUburg Chronicle Ttlcjnipli.
How Idols Are Made.
A recent book on Siam contains a de
scription of the way in which sacred
images are made for the Buddhists. In
making the larger idols, thoso varying
from about one to eight feet in height
and usually in a sitting posture, they
first make a model of tho figure in wax.
Into this model they stick small nails a
few inches apart and projecting slightly.
Then the image is covered with a coating
of fine sand mixed with clay sufficiently
wet to be easily molded. Tho pre cetipg
nails serve to prevent tho coating from
fallingolf before it becomes hard. After
it has been dried in the sun the idol it
put into a f unm e and burned, when the
wax collects, and, running out, is col
lected for use another time. Melted
brass is then poured over tho image aud
evenly spread until tho whole surface is
covered with a thin coat of the metal. A
smoothing and polishing process finishct
the work, and the resplendent imago is
ready for the adoration of the multi
tude. The small silver idols aro mado
in a different way. Tho maker has a
hard-wood model called a type. Ho
takes common coin silver, beats it out
into a thin sheet, and covers the model,
pressing it close in every p irt until it as
sumes the exact shape det-irrd. It 's
largest at the lower end, which is Icf
open that tho model may be drawn out.
Melted pitch is poured into the hollow
shell of silver-lea', and then the idol is
polished, usually with tine sand.
A Itace of Dwarfs.
Tho explorer, Ludwig Wolff, has re
cently returned from tin; Congo and was
interviewed by your corre-poupent. 1 lo
reports having met iu tho iSankowron
region many tribes of dwarfs generally
measuring less than four feet, beardless,
with short and woolly hair. They live
by hunting, are woicle: fully agile, goud
tempered, and many thousands arc
dispersed over tho wild region. They
are known under the name of I atouas.
They mix very little w tu the full grown
population. This, says Wolff, confirms
the ancient conjectuies of Herodotus
aud Aristotle as to the existence of a
race of pigmies in Africa. These Afri
can Liliputian . rec eived mo verv hospita
bly, said Mr. WoliV. A. id York 11 rultl.
i) ii ta Me Business
She (to y ung pcu 1 1 --"i!ow much do
you get for your poii is, Charley.'"
Charley nvith pride) "From two to
five dollars."
ho "Well
.tl't. tl!lT. VITC
little,
mi- Walter Scott got
for iie of his."
ten thousand dobars
f ' 1 1 ii r I i.u Y . ... I,
.v.-, ..... .....
d m try ir-n't the business it i sed to be.
but urn see writing
There's too much competition." Ai
York Sun.
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