SULLIVAN REPUBLICAN.
W M. CHENEY, Publisher.
VOL. IX.
Town boasts that its percentage of il-
Hteracj is the lowest in the Union.
The London Lancet wants all doctors
to wear a distinguishing style of hat.
This has already been adopted in Berlin,
but hats have been put on doctors' coac'u
meu instead.
It is a mistake, asserts tho Chicago
Herald, to suppose that polar research
has cost enormously in human life. De
spite all the great disasters ninety-seven
out of every 100 explorers have returned
alive.
Count Von Moltke.'Understood tho vir
tues of silence. At no timo during his
ninety years was lie much given to speak
ing, althoughyho was an accomplished
linguist, indeed, it was said of him that
he know-how to hold his tonguo in ten
languages.
Nut farming is a new industry in North
Carolina. Small manufactures are prose
cuted with vigor iu many parts of the
South, and several now plantation nud
forest industries are steadily developing
that region. "Theso," comments the
Washington Star, "arc among tho signs
of hope on the American horizon."
At least one person in three between
tho ages of ten and forty years is subject
to partial deafness. The great majority
of/eascs of deafness are hereditary and
duo to the too close consanguinity of tlu
parents. Deafness is more prevalent
among men than among women, because
the former are more exposed tu the vicis
situdos of climato. It is thought thai
telephones tend to bring on denfues. 5
when one ear is used to the exclusion ol
the other.
An interesting incident in connection
with Presdent Harrison's visit to Atlanta
was his meeting with Mr. George Cook,
a courtly, elderly gentleman, and a well
known piano manufacturer of Boston.
Tho grandfather of Mr. Cook was the
Captain Cook who saved the life of Gen
eral William Ilonrv Harrison from tho
Indians at the battle of Tippecanoe. Mr.
Cook and Mrs. Cook had been spending
a few days with Governor Bullock, and
on invitation of Mayor Hemphill went up
the road to meet the President. The
meeting of the two grayhaircd grandsons
was very cordial, and they enjoyed a
pleasaut chat during the ride into the
city.
Joe Shakespeare, the Mayor of New
Orleans, was asked whether he knew
how he came by his surname. "Oh,"
said he, "you think, perhaps, I claim
descent from the Bard of Avon. Well,
I'm an American, and you know what
Americans are after. I never heard that
the Bard of Avon left anything but a
name, so I took no interest in his family.
If he had loft money it would be differ
ent." As a matter of fact Shakespeare
did leave an estate that was reckoned
good in its time. The new Shakespeare
of New Orleans is a native of the neigh
borhood of Baltimore, where his ances
tors were farmers, lie is a rich iron
founder.
George W. Childs, of Philadelphia,
lias consented to exhibit his fine art and
souvenir collection at the Ohicago Fair.
Among his treasures are the little green
harp which belonged to Tom Moore, and
which he carried into hundreds of Irish
homes; the massive silver vase presented
to Henry Clay, when he was at the height
of his popularity, by the Whig ladies of
Tennessee; Washington's champagne
glass; cups, saucers and glasses which
came from Louis Napoleon, the late
Emperor Wiiham, the Into Emperor
Maximilian and the ex-Emperor of
Brazil, a miniature ship, formerly tho
property of President Andrew Jackson,
and the silver waiter presented to Gen
eral Jackson after his victory by the citi
zens of New Orleans.
It really looks now, assorts the New
York Hun, as though the action of the
Italian Government toward this country
had so frightened King Humbert's sub
jects as to make tens of thousands of
them hasten to fly from Italy and seek
refuge hcrt. They are coming over as
fast as they cau find ships to carry them,
and, according to recent despatches, the
Mediterranean ports aro swarmiug with
Italians anxious to secure buuks in the
steerage of the steamships bound for
America. There is reason for enter
taining the apprehension that, if King
Humbert were to threaten to make war
upon the United States, we could not find
room here for the hosts of his subjects
w>n would be seized with the desire to
4L' from uis kingdom.
ILLUSIONS.
Go stand at night upon an ocean craft
And watch the folds of Its imperial train
Catching in fleecy foam a thousand glows—
A miracle of fire unquenehed l»y sea.
There* in bewildtsringtiirbuleiiee of change,
Whirls the whole flrmanent, till As you gaze,
Atteise unseen, it is as heaven itself
tlad lost its poise, an each unaivchored star
In phantom haste flees to the horizon line.
What dupes we are of the deceiving eye!
How many a light men wonderingly acclaim
Is but the phosphor of the path Life qmkes
With its own motion, while above, forgot,
Sweep on serene the old unenviolls stars!
Robert Undtrwood JtihrlsdA-, iti Century.
UNCLE FLAXLEY'S HOBBY,
BY HELEN FOITTTEST GRAVES.
The white, vertical light of a Feb
ruary day shone down through the sky
light of Julian Dover's studio, its pitiless
brightness bringing oilt every layer of
dust on the Venetian red draperies, every
spot and stain on the much benickcd
walls.
The lay figure was doubled up in a
most impossible attitude against a big
chair, covered with cotton velvet and
cheap gilt fringe; a bunch of faded roses,
in an old "crackle" vase, hung limply
down, and Mr. Dover, in a shabby
plum-colored velvet coat, and a Turkish
fez perched jauntily on one side of his
haudsome head, was painting desperately
away, intent on economising every BCC
ond of tho precious winter daylight.
"Oh, the deuce 1" ho exclaimed, ab
ruptly. "What made you jump so,
Clarie! A man don't want the current
of his ideas disturbed just when—''
The model lifted her large, wine
brown eyes to his face, with a depreca
tory smile.
"I hear Kitty Flaxley outside," said
she.
"Outside she must stay, then!" re
marked Mr. Dover, frowning at his pal
ette. "I can't be interrupted; every
minute is a lump of gold. Wait!" he
roared, as a gentle rapping sounded on
the door. "Clarie is posing for me!"
And then one perceived a slight,
graceful figure in a coarse lilac cotton
gown, and a striped handkerchief care
lessly twisted around her rich, brown
locks, leaning in an artistic attitude
against a window-sash studded with
many small panes, that was supported be
tween two standards.
Her fingers were intertwined in her
hair; her elbows rested on the sill, where
a coarse flcwer-pot or two were ranged.
She was not Mrs. Julian Dover for the
time being; she was"The Fisherman's
Wife," destined b/ good luck and the
grace of the hanging committee to figure
in the forthcoming spring exhibition.
"Ob, Julian, I am so tired!" she
pleaded. "Every bone in me is cramped.
Mayn't I rest?"
"You've no idea of true art," said
Julian, slowly. "You haven't posed
half an hour yet."
"I'm so sorry; but—"
"Jump, then!" said the painter—for
the first time realizing how palo and
worn the delicate, oval face was."l
suppose I can be putting in the distaut
sea while you gossip with your Kitty."
lie caught her hand as she skipped
past him, and kissed her—a kiss which
was a rich reward for all the cramp and
weariness she had endured—and she ran
out to the hall, tugging as she went to
remove the knotted red silk neckerchief
which supplied an clement of warm color
to the picture.
There stood her quondam schoolmate,
Kitty Flaxley, with cheery lips and spar
kling eyes.
"Oh, Claire, how odd you look!" said
she.
"Yes," s)»i'l Mrs. Dover, composedly.
"I'm 'The Fisherman's Wife.' Every
bone in me is a sepnrato pain, with sit
ting so long watching for my husband's
boat."
Both laughed; and then the artist's
wife led Miss Flaxloy into the studio,
where Juliau nodded a pleasant saluta
tion to her.
"You won't expect me to stop work
ing?" said he.
"Of course not!" said Kitty. "It's
work that I've come to talk about. Such
news ns I've got! The family fortunes
are all made. Our Uncle Flaxley came
home yesterday. That is, he isn't our
uncle—he's only a sort of cousin; but
mamma naturally wants to make the re
lationship as near as possible; so we are
all instructed to call him 'uncle' "
"And who is Uncle Flaxley?"
"That's just it," said Kitty, laughing.
"Ho went to the South Sea Islands,
thirty years ago, and people took no no
tice at all of his exit except to say some
thing about 'good riddance to bad rub
bish.' Ho comes back, and you would
think him a canonized saint. Nothing
is good enough for him."
"Oh!" said Dover. "He's made
money?"
"Exactly," nodded Kitty. "But he's
the oddest old fish—a little, dried-up,
parchment-faced man, who goes about
finding fault with everything and every
body, and promulgatiug the most out
landish theories that ever were heard of.
The first thing he did was to upset all
our family traditions. You know, Claire,
how mamma has brought us up—like the
lilies of the field, that toil not, neither
do they spin? Now, we arc each of us
to learn a trade. I'm going into dress
making!"
"Impossible!" cried the artist's wife.
"Theodora is going to tackle art em
broidery. Constautine says she hasn't
decided jet betweeu telegraphy and
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, JUNE 12, 1881.
typewriting. Oh, you may well look
amn*ed t It's all Uncle Flaxley. He
says he'll give us a thousand dollars
apiece when we've each learned a real,
bread-winning, practical trade. He says
it'i what bvery woman ought to do.
Dora wants to get a thousand dollars to
get herself a stunning set of diamonds.
Con would like togo to Canada with the
Trelawneys next year, and I—don't tell
anyone, please, Claire and Julian—but
I shall give mine to Rembrandt Alison,
so that he can goto Paris and study in
the Louvre."
"Good!" cried Julian Dover. "Then
it's really t?ue that you are engaged ?
Kitty, Kitty, an artist's wife is a lirst
class martyr!' 1
"An artist's wife is the happiest crea
ture in the world, Kitty?" counter as
serted Claire, her soft eyes lighted up
with love. "A thousand dollars! Oh,
I wish I could make a thousand dol
lars!"
"I'm going do*n town every day to
learn the Graftenburgh system," said
Kitty. "I shall have to work three long,
endless months before they give me a
diploma; but I shall have something to
work for, don't you see? And now
good-by! I'm off for Graftenburgh's!"
Uncle Elimelcch Flaxley walked
around tho house of his cousin's widow,
with his hands hooked under his coat
tails, and his blue spectacles balanced on
the bridge of his nose, peering into
everything, criticising everything, and
finding fatilt with everything.
Mrs. Peter Flaxley smiled at all his
comments. In her eyes his conduct was
perfect.
"What!" Undo Flaxley had cried,
"three girls, and not one of 'cm taught
to earn her living! That's no way to
bring up a family, sister Annabel. Every
woman should have a trade. Every
woman should be able to support herself
the same as if she were a man.
This was Uncle Flaxley's hobby. He
trotted it out, he bridled it and saddled
it and rode it perpetually, and the upshot
of it was that the thousand dollar propo
sition was m>'.de and promptly accepted
by his three nieces.
"It's dreadful!" sighed Mrs. Flaxley;
"but of course it is our interest to con
sult your uncle's wishes in every re
spect."
"I've always thought I should like to
learn dressmaking," said Kitty. One
could clothe one's self at half the ex
pense. And then a thousand dollars, all
of one's own—think of it."
"I know ever so many nice girls who
do type-writing," said Constantia, a tall,
willowy girl, with yellow hair and pallid
skin. "If one must have a trade, I be
lieve there's nothing more genteel."
But Theodora, the beauty of the Flax
ley family, turned up her nose.
"Such an absurd idea of Uncle Flax
ley's!" said she. "I'm a tolerably de
cent embroiderer already, and if the
woman's exchange accepts a piece of my
work, I suppose the old crank will rec
ognize it as a token of being an expert
in that particular trade!''
And as she shut herself up with silks
and satins and several dozen ounces of
rainbow-colored filoselle and crewels, to
design a pattern which should take the
world of tapestry by storm.
Kitty wrestled bravely with the tech
nicalities of the Grafteuburgh system.
Coustantina worked diligently at the
clickiug marvel of the nineteenth cen
tury. Theodora was the first to look
back from the plow-handles.
"I hate it!" said she, pettishly. "I
can't make anything out of it! Such
wooden-looking things as my cat-tails
and storks are! I mcau togo and sec
Philomel Alison about it."
Young Rembrandt Alison's studio was
far smaller and less picturesque than
that of his couipeer, Julian Dover.
He slept on a sofa under the window
of nights, and his sister Philomel, who
kept house for him on the most econ
omical principles, occupied a three
cornered closet at the rear, which she
called a bedroom, and which, besides
the cot-bed, held exactly two bandboxes,
and a chair with a wash-bowl and pitcher
on it.
She was a skilled embroiderer, and
worked her tinger-ends off, while her
brother, rapt in visions of Titian and
Buonarotti, stood before his canvas.
"Children, you work too hard, both
of you," said a little, old, yellow-com
plexioned man, who had once known
their father on the Mexican frontier,
and who came occasionally to the studio,
and viewed them with not unkindly eyes.
"It's work or starve, sir," said Alison,
with short laugh.
"What do you ask for this picture?"
abruptly questioned Mr. Flaxley.
"Two hundred dollars—when it is
finished."
"Tut, tat!" said the old man. "Too
muca! Two hundred dollars for a bit
of canvas eighteen inches square?"
"It's not a mere bit of canvas," said
Alison, coloring up; "it's my brains—
my ideas—the visions I seo nightly in
my sleep."
"I'll give rou fifty dollars for it,"
hazaried the yellow-complexioned man.
"I couldn't possibly sell it for that."
"Humph! humph!" snorted Flaxley.
"The next I know, Philly here will be
wanting to sell her bit of brown-and
yellow needlework for two hundred dol
lars, too?"
Philomel looked gravely up from her
work.
"No," she said. "I'm to receive fifty
dollars for it. It is an order."
"What. is the world comiug to?" cried
[ Mi. Flaxley. "People must bo aching
to spend their money. What is the
thing, anyhow—ducks paddling in t
pond!' 1
Philomel shook her headj
"Hersds," said she, "id A marsh full
of reeds and rushes. Those lines of yellotf
silk—see?—are where the sunshine
(strikes the water.
Flaxley peered dubiously at the mast
of bright colors.
"One has to exercise considerable im
agination," said he.
"I wonder," said Philomel to het
brother, after the fussy little visitor was
gone, "if I ought to have told him that
1 was doing this work for his niece in
Hadcliffe street?"
" 'Speech is silver, silence is golden,' "
said Rembrandt Alison, mechanically.
"It's always best not to talk. Do you
think, Phil, I've got the red too deep
in this peasant's jacket?"
Mr. Flaxleyj making his way home,
thought of the studio he had just left,
with a softening of the heart.
' 'They are nice children, "he pondered.
"Their father was a nice man. He took
mo into his ranch and cured me that
time I had the gulley fever. I might
have died if it hadn't been for him."
Time passed on; the three months ex
pired. Constantia copied some letters
for her uncle on u typewriter with such
*kill and rapidity that he wrote out his
check for a thousand dollars on tho spot.
Kitty showed him hor diploma from
Graftenburgh & Co., and proudly called {
his attention to a trimly-fitting dress that j
she wore.
A second time Uncle Flaxley inscribed
bis autograph on an oblong slip of pale
green paper, and then Theodora unrolled
a banner of dark-olive satin, glistening
with rich embroidery.
"It has just been sold at the woman's
exchange," said, she, "for a hundred and
ten dollars. Here's the receipt."
Uncle Flaxley pricked up his feather
like ears; he stared very hard through
his spectacles.
"Your work?" said he.
"My work I" repeated Theodora, with
dignity.
"No, it isn't!" curtly contradicted Mr.
j Flaxley, whoso lorte was not conven
tional repose. "I've seen those ducks
and marsh-grasses before 1 I saw them
when Philomel Alison was working them.
Young woman, you have deceived me?"
Theodora turned scarlet. Tho sudden
ness of his contradiction had stricken her
guilty soul dumb.
"No thousand-dollar check for you,"
said Mr. Flaxley. "Go aud say your
prayers and read over the Ten Conunund
ments, where it says, 'Thou shalt not
steal!' For you arc a thief! "
He had scarcely overcome his wrath
against this bucksiding relative when he
trotted around to Rembrandt Alison's
studio the next day.
"I can't get tbat young fellow's wist
ful face out of my mind," thought he.
"I guess I'll buy the eighteenth-inch
square of canvas after all."
He stood wiping his boots on the mat
in flie studio vestibule, aud plainly heard
Kitty's voice saying:
"Do take it, Rembrandt! I've earned
it niyselt. It's mine to give, and I've no
possible use for it. I thought of you all
the time, and Ido so want you togo to
Paris and study in the Louvre!"
Uncle Flaxley pushed the door open
with a bang aud walked in, regardless
of etiquette.
"Yes, take it, Alison," said he—
"take it in the spirit that she gives it.
She's a trump, that girl is!"
Rembrandt Alison looked at Kitty's
scarlet face with grave, searching eyes.
"I will take it," said ho, "if Kitty
will give me herself, also. There can
be no crushing sense of obligation where
love bridges the way."
"I'll give her to you." said Uncle
Flaxley, holding pushing Kitty lorward.
'•Things are happening just to suit me."
"Me also," said Philomel, in a whis
per, her pale face lighted up with joy.
••Here!" said Uncle Flaxley; "what's
the price of this picture—and this—and
this? I'll buy'email! Gracious me! if
you're really going to Paris, there's no
reason Kitty shouldn't go, too, on her
wedding trip."
Of all Uncle Flaxlcy's eccentricities,
this was the most delightful. Kitty
had a long story to tell Julian Dover and
Claire, in their studio across tho hall,
tbat day.
"It will be such a glorious thing,"
cried Claire, still enacting "Tho Fisher
man's Wife," "for you to marry an ar
tist!"
But Mrs. Flaxley declared that hot
rich relation had been "shamefully
partial" in the matter of the thousand
dollar proposition. It is so hard to suit
everybody I— Saturday Night.
Wild Horses of Lob.
Two young Frenchmen, brothers,
Grum-Grjimailo by name, have just re
turned from the ancient kingdom of Lob,
in Eastern Turkey. They bring with
them thousands of specimens of birds,
mammals, fishes and plants.
Among the more remarkable animals
are some wild horsos, which are not tho
descendants of domesticated specimens,
like the wild horses of the South Ameri
can Pampas, but the real primitive wild
type and tho projenitor of the domesti
cated breed. Three of these were shot
in the Dzungarian desert, just north of
Guchcn, after n long auc- difficult chase.
The existence of wild camels was also
Corroborated, a herd having been pur
sued for a long way in the direction of
Lob Nor, but unfortunately-the travelers
were unablo to come up < with them.—
New XorkPrm,
Terms—Sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
A Bethlehem (Penn.) hammer weighs
120 tons,
Electricity run# a Wurtemburg (Ger
many) iron works.
Gas must be fufniahed at flfty-twc
cents per thousand feet to c'ompate with
electricity in lighting.
At Pittsburg the Second Avenue Elec
tric Street Car Company is equipping its
lines with vestibtiled trains.
The system of riveting by hydraulic
power is being successfully applied to
the shell plating of vessels in course of
construction on tho Tyne, England.
A fire engine that does away with the
Use of horses and forces the water by
means of power generated by a storage
battery is a recent electrical invention.
It has recently been shown that when
cast and malleable iron aro used in the
structure a galvanic action is set up be
tween them ana the malleable iron is
corroded.
A calico printing machine has been in
vented in this country, the novelty of
which is that the Cloth may be printed
on one side in eight colors, or on both
sides with four colors each.
It is well known that vegetable and
animal oils are unsuitable for cylindei
lubrication, and recently in France where
colza oil was used it was found necessary
to burn out. the deposits in the ports ol
the locomotive cylinders.
English manufacturers are bleachinc
paper by an electrical process without, it
is stated, impairing its strength. A mag
nesium chloride solution is decomposed
by a powerful electric current with th<
evolution of chlorine and oxygen.
A newly-devised insulated screwdriver
haß the shank so thoroughly insulated,
nearly to its tip, that shock can be
avoided. Tho metal shank is flattened
and bent into a loop at one end and then
moulded into a rubber handle, which
gives perfect protection from the cur
rent.
A new system of house wiring for elec
tric lighting consists of fittiog the build
ing with continuous tubes of insulating
material, through which the wires are
drawn. The tubes aro made of papei
soaked in a hot bath of bituminous ma
terial, and are said to be hard, strong anc
tough.
A handy lock is now used upon tri
cycles, boats, chests aud boxes. It
weighs about half a pound, and, although
not much larger than a watch, is consid
erably thicker. This padlock is a com
bination, and it is fitted with a numbered
dial, very much like those used for safei
and vaults.
The highest atmospheric pressure ot
record seems to be 31.72 inches, whicl
occurred at Scmpalatinski, on Dccembe:
IG, 1877; aud the lowest at any lane
station is quoted at 27.13 inches, whicl
was recorded on the coast of Orissa, or,
September 22, 1885. The difference ol
4.6 in these readings is probably th 6
maximum range of the barometer cvei
observed at the earth's surface.
Chicago's latest rapid transit project
calls for the buildiug of a single-track,
single-column elevated electrical railway.
Cars will be operated continuously iu the
same direction in a loop twenty miles in
extent and at a distance apart of 75C
feet, which is equivalent to a headway
of twenty and one-quarter seconds, an
arrangement considered feasible with
single car units, with special truck
brakes. This would give 140 cars iu
continuous operation on the circle.
A new apparatus for water has ap
peared in the form of a still, which is
described as consisting of "a series of
large flat disks of metal, placed upright
and kept in position by pipes ruuning
horizontally on the top and bottom.
Water is boiled in a vessel and tfie steam
is conducted from the same to the dish
through a pipe. Tho steam radiating
from the water is condensed in the disks
by a current of air, and the water is col
lected in the bottom pipe." The size of
still designed for family use has eight
disks, and is said to distill a gallon of
water in nn hour.
Tho Papal Swiss Guards.
Most foreigners, who have been in
Rome,remember the entrance to the Vat
ican with the Portone di Bronzo at the
end of the seuii-circle at the
right of the Bernin colonade. On tho
way to the mass you pass along this por
tico, beloie the po3t of Swiss guards,
whose uniform of "lansquenets" of the
sixteenth century is one of the curiosities
of Rome; and you may hear the halberds
clashing upon the stone floor in salute
of some religious functionary as he comes
in.
I need not describe these guards, with
their heavy mustaches and beards; their
freeh-colored faces and their unconscious
swagger and their doublets, which
seem so wofully out of place in modern
Rome.
On a little triangular place, at the foot
of the high and massive wall of the Sis
tine Chapel, between the great stretch of
the Pontificial garden and the colossal
sides of St. Peter's Church, there is an
other Swiss guard, at that door of the
Vatican by which, last spring, Leo XIII.
made his little excursion into the outer
world, which was so much talked about
in the newspapers. Near by a sentinel
of the Italian Army stands guard iu the
name of King Humbert. Here we havt
the two opposing principals, with theii
picket lines scarcely twenty paces apart.
—New York Journal.
"And why were you discharged from
your last place?" "I'd served me time."
NO. 35.
THB A-D-V.
' x There ore- throe IffUe letters
That are used on every days,
In orery publication,
With tmdisputed sway.
That are so very modest
Ne'er prominent they'll '^be.
But 'way down in a corner*
Lurks the a-d-v.
Ton read about a shipwreck,
A hundred people drowned;
The wreckage of the noble ship *. 1
For miles is strewn around.
Your heart then swot Win pity
For those upon the sea,
Until you read on further,
To the a-d-v.
Or perhap3 upon a railroad "
You'll read of a big smash, i
And many people-injured
In the overwhelming crash.
You wondorif somo relative*
Upon the trafiKcould be;
Then you kick yourself, becaiu.
You see the a-d-v.
And so you find it daily;
In everything it lurks;
Tis seen in every paper,
And ne'er its duty shirks.
To tell the truth, dear reader, 1
Aud we laugh aloud with glee l .
This poetry's not pai.l for—
It's an a-d-v.
—Printer's
IIUMOR OF THE DAY.
In purple and fine linen—A bandaged
black eye.
A burst of eloquence is a consequence'
of meutal dynamite.— Boston Courier.
Not Intimate: "Have you met with
iiuccoss?" "I know it only by sight."—
Puck. i
Marked down—The young man's mus
tache when it begins to be visible.—
Pitttburg Chronicle.
Tho fact that riches have wing» may
be the reason that they enable a mau to
"fly high."— Washington Post.
When a bachelor is asked to rock tho
cradle he feels more like stoning the
baby instead.— Somcrville Journal.
Consider the man who is always punc
tual—how much time he wastes waiting
for other people.— Elmira Gazette.
Tramp—"Will this dog bite a poor
old tramp?" Hired Girl—"Just as quick
as a fat young one. Git!"— Epoch.
When the other man begins to quote
statistics you may assume that you have
won the argument.— JSlmirn Gazette.
Boulanger is haviuj? another desperate
wrestle with obscurity, and with all the
chances in favor of obscurity.— Boston
Pout.
Fogg says that, after all, your truo
hue-era of wood and drawers of water
are your landscape artist3.— Boston Tran
script.
lie—"So Jack isn't devoted to Kato
nny more. Did they light?" She—
"Yes; they had an engagement."— Yale
Record.
"The man I'll wed," says sweet Sixteen,
"Must boauty have and youthful be."
"Of him I'll wed," says Thirty-five,
"I but demand that he'll have me."
—Fuck.
The saying, "Nothing succeeds liko
success," was probably invented before
the modern "business failure" system of
succeeding was discovered.— New York
Herald.
Really Enthusiastic: "Oh, Mr. Brown,
your picture is absolutely enchanting.
Only one Italian word can describe it—
and I havo forgotten that."— Fliegende
Blastter.
"Here's your bill." said the milk
dealer to the dissatislied customer.
"Well, turn about is only fair play; sup
pose we chalk that up awhile."—TFa«A
ington Post.
"It strikes me that Russian authors
have a remarkably venerable and care
worn look." "Yes; but then look at
the language they havo to do their think
ing in."— Washington Post.
Clara (just engaged)—"Ah, Emma, if
I only knew how to mako Edward hap
py!" Emma (a student of human na
ture) —"I'll tell you, my dear. Don't
marry him."— Fliegendeßlaetter.
"I can command my salary," said the
Thespian in reply to tho remarks of an
envious rival. "No doubt," was the re
ply. "It's so small it would be afraid
to disobey you."— Washington Post.
"The Superfluous Man" is the title of
a recently published essay. This is the
first time that the man who goes shopping
with his wife has figured in serious litera
ture, we believe.— New York Jicoorder.
Miss Caustiquc—"l hear you won tho
440-yards run." De Boaster—"Oh,
easily. The other fellows weren't in it."
Miss Caustique—"Ah, you were the only
ono entered, I presume."— Harvard Lam
poon.
"The face of tho returns," said tho
chairman of the meeting, "shows sixty
seven ayes and no noes." "What a queer
looking faco that must be," remarked an
old lady in the back row. Washington
Star.
Mrs. Snaggs (reading)—"A first cousin
of the King of Sweden is liviug in Lynn,
Mass." Snaggs—"Poor fellow! Why
do they bring that up against him if he's
trying to live a respectable life."—Pitts
burg Chronicle- Telegraph.
An effort was made in Ohio to cure a
girl of a dog-bite by using a madstone,
but it failed. The trouble was the stono
was used too late. It ought to have been
applied to the dog before he bit the
oirl.— Baltmjrc American.