Jloctvu aub lllioccllaitw. ; THE MAN WHO RODE TO CON EM A UGlji | Into the town of Conemaugh, Striking the people's HOIIIH with awe, , Hushed a rider, aflame nnd pale, Never alighting to tell his tule, fitting his big hay horse astride, Run for your lives to the hills I " ho cried; "Run to the hills! " was what ho said As ho waved his hand and dashed ahead. "Run for your lives to the hills!" he cried, Spurting his horse, whose reeking sido Was flecked with foam as red nH flame. Whither he gocH nnd whence he came Nobody knows. They seo his horse Plunging on in his frantic course, Veins distended and nostrils wide, Pi red and frenzied at such a ride. Nobody knows the rider's name- Dead forever to earthly fame. " Run to the hills! to the hills!" he cried; - 'jßun for your lives to the mountain-side!'' ''Stop him ! lie's mad! just look at him go! 'Tuin't sa r e." they said, "to let him ride so.'' "He thinks to scare us," said one, with a laugh, "But Coneinaugh folks don't swallow no chaff. >Tain't nothing, I'll bet, but the same old leak In the dam above the South Fork ('reek." blind to their danger, callous of drend. They laughed as lie left them and dashed ahead. "Run for your lives to the hillst" he cried, Lashing his horse in his desperate ride. Down through the valley the rider passed, Shouting, and spurring his horse on fast; Rut not so fust did the rider go As the raging, roaring, mighty flow l)f the million feet and millions more Of water whose fury lie fled before. On he went, nnd on it ( nine, The flood itself a mighty flame Of surging, swirling, seething tide, Mountain high nnd torrents wide. God alone might measure the force Of the Coneinaugh flood in its V-shaped Behind him were buried under the flood Coneinaugh town and all who stood Jeering there nt the man who cried, "Run for your lives to the inountuin-side!" On he sped in his fierce wild ride. "Run to the hills! to tlio hills! " ho cried. Nearer, ncuror came the roar Horse and rider fled before. Dashing along the valley ridge. They came at last to the railroad bridge. The big horse stood, the rider cried, "Run for your lives to the mountain-sido!" Then plunged across, but not before The mighty, merciless, mountain roar Struck the bridge and swept it away Like a bit of straw or a wisp of hay, but over and under and through that tide The voice of the unknown rider cried, „ " Run to tlio hills! "to the hills! "it cried— "Run for your lives to the mountain-side!" —John E. bo wen. in Harper's Weekly. OUR PEGGY. BY ALICE BROWN. T was a most exciting 1 if Mamma read 1 it aloud to Daphne j Al and mo at tlio break- j ■ fast table, and wo look- j y C A cd at 0110 another in ' fSf amazement over its' most important part, t the postscript // "You know my girls W' have been riding a tri cycle for sonio time," Annt Margaret bad written. "They liavo had 0110 with an attachment, BO that it can be used by one per son, or as a tandem that is, used by two riders. Lately, howovor, they have been teasing for a new tandem, with certain improvements about which I don't in the least understand, — and 1 have bought it 011 condition that they givo the old 0110 to your girls. As you havo 110 horse, I know they will , enjoy it oxtcodinglv." "Did you ever hear of anything so j charming ?'' cried Daphne, clasping her hands. "1 don't know, dears," said mamma, more doubtfully, "I should he sorry to have you under lake anything that might be considered peculiar or unladylike." "Aunt Margaret lets her girls ride ! " "Yes, but they aro near the city, where the fashion is beginning to j spread. I don't see, for my own part, I why you shouldn't do it, even if you i aro hooted; but, girls, I can't help thinking of Uncle Melchor." Ho did wo think of him; wo thought, and spoke of him tooofton forourpoace of mind. Uncle Mel was rich, and we were very poor. Moreover, the time had come when wo needed to go away to school. Mamma had always taught us lliat it was a mistake to suppose the world owed us a living. "You have 110 right to your uncle's money simply because JlO has a great deal and you have none," she said. "But, if ho would lend you a small sum i for a beginning, I think you could work ; your way at Ellsworth Seminary. You would pledge yourselves to repay it, , with interest, when you arc old enough , to support yourselves; and, though he would be taking a risk, wo should all try j to make that risk as small as possible." : But when the scheme was proposed to Uncle Mel, he vetoed it at once, and with tlio utmost vigor. "Go away to school!" cried ho ; "What for? My mother never studied beyond long division, nor yet my grand , mother, nnd they were good house ; keepers and excellent women. You be ; good, sensible girls, and learn to make ; bread and darn stockings, and when I'm j with my money, you shall havo it. 1 ■That was not what we wanted, how-1 Hr, and we at once set about trying to ! ■d work in some town which had an ! ■winced school for girls. Meanwhile | ■ lived in the little cottage Uncle Mel : flve us rent free, raised our own vege ; ■bles, and bound shoes. ■ But to return to that morning's din lission. I "You must not displease your uncle," laid mamma. "I can't help hoping that, in case some very rainy day should borne in the midst of your school course, 1,0 would lend you a little money. You know he is kindacc nding to his lights. " "Only Madge and I want to read by electricity, instead of knitting by candle light, as his grandmother did," said Daphne. "Be bold, mamma! be bold!" #1 . . Mamma laughed, and, after a night s consideration, she gave her formal sanc tion to the tricycle, which arrived a day or two later. "But I do hope," she said, doubtfully, as she examined its shining whee's and 1 springy seats, "I do hope yon won't try to ride* last, Perhaps you can bo more ladylike about it, if you do it slowly.' Such a time as we bad in getting started to ride at all! First we made over some old dreises, lengthening the skirts nml relieving them of superfluous togs of trimming which might get caught in the wheels. Then wo learned tVoil the machine, and finally to ittttiiage it. The cousins hud written that, with its fourth wheel behind, it was a clumsy affair compared with their new three wheeler; but we, who were used to no lighter means of transportation than the family wheelbarrow, were more than satisfied with our new steed. Our exalted sense of its merits at | once prompted us to christen it "Pegrt- i SUB," a immo which became "Peggy" in e\ery-day conversation. Fortunately, wo lived soveral miles from the village, and could practise without fear of many spectators, but whenever we did meet acquaintance or stranger, wo were saluted with grins nnd witticisms. In spite of all this, how ever, wo did learn to ride, and day by day we gained strength, aud our color brightened. One June afternoon, after a longer ride than usual, we found ourselves near the little cross-road where Uncle Mel cher lived. A year before, alter quarrel ling with the village authorities, he hud bought a small c >ttnge, eight miles from church and store, and had token up his abode in it, with the pica-sing conscious ness that ho had withdrawn as far as possible from the local civilization. It was a dreary place, but Undo Mel liked it, and Mrs. Sinihions, liis old house keeper, tolerate ! what lie chose. "Madge," said Daphne, putting on the brake, as we reached the cross-road, "let's go and call on Uncle Mel. It's only two miles farther," "I wouldn't for worlds?" said I. "He is suro to scold us for riding Peggy." "Well, we can't help that. He knows by this time that we have the machine, and he might as well see it. Come, ami have it over. O Madge, before I'd be afraid I" For an answer I put my feet down hard 011 tlio pedals, and started Peggy onward. Girls don't like to bo dared any more than boys do. "I'll go," said I, "but wo must hurry, for it's getting lute." Wo turned int the narrow road, and in due time reached the house. Vnc'o Mel was sitting 011 the piazza, reading a j newspaper, but after one long, steady j look at us, he got up and went indoors. j We had gone too far to retreat, and so i we alighted and walked up to the house. ! "Tell them not to bring that thing a j foot nearer! " came Uncle Mel's voice j from the sitting-room. "If they've a I mind to come in here like decent girls, j tliey'r welcome, but I won't have any Crazy Janes ridin' bicycles up to my door." Just then Mrs. Simmons ap- j peared in the entry. She vos evidently j glad wo had heard the message, and that 1 she need not repeat it. "You jest roll it back a mite," she I whispered. "You know your uncle's a leetlo sot." So wo meekly trundled poor Peggy behind the big syringa bush, and then 1 walked into the house with as much composure as we could summon. Uncle Mel was sitting in his great chair, drum-1 ming with his lingers j dolphia. They don't keep it."—[Phila delphia Inquirer. TWO QUEER CASES. THE PART IMAGIN ATION PLAYS IN DISEASE. A Man Who Believed He Was Fatal ly Stabbed —A Patient Who En diired Torture for thb Purpose of Fooling the Doctor. There are two cases to which I will call your attention that afford an illus tration of what a curious thing human nature is, says a New York letter to Vie Cincinnati Enquirer. The first ift that uf John Burke, who has been a butcher At Eastman's slaughter-house for ab >ut x year. He is a muscular fellow, \\ ith the usual high flow of spirits and vital ity possessed by men who follow this callihg, and the direct opposite to Wlittt is termed the nervous temperament. Burke got into a qtiarrel with a fellow worker in the slaughter-house : nd came to blows. Burke was getting the best of it, and the other combatant, in order to even up matters, seized a knife and made a vicious thrust at Burke's abdo men. Burke cried out: "I am stabbed," and fell upon the floor unconscious. There was a long rent in his red-flannel shirt, and as ho rolled over on the floor lie was covered with blood from head to foot. An ambulance was speedily sum moned rind Burke was packed into it and driven at full speed to the Bellovuc Hospital. He moaned ard cried aloud with pain all the way to the hospital, and said that he felt he was dying and wanted a priest sent for. When he reached the hospital he was pulseless, pale alld exhausted, ttuct wtls hurried without delay to the surgical Ward. I)r. Connor, the house surgcoil, ripped off the man's clothing with norvous haste, and the sight that met his eyes nearly threw him into a fit. Instead of the viscera that he expecled was hanging out, he was astonished to find tlrnt there was not a spot or blemish upon Burke's body. The knife had simply slit the shirt and grazed the skin without break ing it. The ambulance surgeon, in the first instance, had been deceived by the blood which Burke had fallen into on the s'aughter-Jiouse floor. Dr. Connor told Burke that there was nothing the matter with him, but he would not be lieve it and said that ho felt the pain, and it required an orderly with the vig orous application of a heavy strap to his body to bring him to his senses. He left the hospital cured in about two hours, impressed with the belief that lie had been in the bauds of magicians. The ease of Burke shows what a large part the imagination can play in disease or injury, ami confirms what physicians have everywhere found, that where the imagination is treated first, the disease disappears suddenly without drugs. Burke was honest in the belief that lie had been stabbed, lmt in the follow ing case of Louis Fitzgerald the patient was neither honest in action nor inten tion. Fitzgerald is a young man, with a j , dark skin, firm muscles, and presuma- ! Vly largo development of the bony sys- | , k i'in. He was a little wild, and his i lather placed him on the sehoolship St. \ . Mary for discipline. After ho had been j 011 the ship a year he fell into the hold, ' Sroke his arm and ruptured one of the j futßclcs in the neck. An abscess j 'firmed from the neck and discharged >us for two months before it healed. ■ . JLfter ho got out of the ship's hospital, ! hid was compelled to report for duty, j , bo began to have fits daily, lie had so- j . vore convulsions, frothed at the mouth, j became perfectly rigid, and exhibited j 1 tlio symptoms usually found in epilep- j y- The tests ordinarily made to discover whether a patient is shamming were i tried without disclosing any deception, | and Fitzgerald was relieved from duty. : When ho got his freedom the lbs de- j creased in number and abated in in ten- i sity, but another interesting phonome- 1 lion appeared. Hi? lost the sense of feel- | ing in the right hand and according to his description the amesthesia spread up his right arm to the shoulder. Then | the, right leg was attacked, beginning i at the toes and extending slowly to the I thigh. Tlio nmrsthesin then took a I jump to the other side of tlio body and ! in a short time the left arm and leg were I without feeling. This condition con- j tinned to spread until the trunk and head showed apparently the most com plete amesthesia. Fitzgerald claimed that lie had neither tasto nor smell, or at least theso senses were pervorted, so that the same thing at different times would taste and smell differently. There was no interference with the mo tive power, and ho could walk and use his muscles nearly as well as over. He was sent to St. Francis Hospital. The entire history of Fitzgerald's ease led Dr. Coudert to be skeptical, and ho made a thorough and c ritical examina tion. The patient's body was pricked in eveiy part with needles, and needles were run under the patient's nails, a test that will make a stout hearted man cry for mercy, but tlio lad paid 110 at- i tcution to it. An eye vise was applied j to the eyeball. This would make a J statue weep, but Fitzgerald gave no sign ■ of pain. While the pat ent was blind- : folded heated irons were kept close j enough to his body to bum and blister ; without being met with a protest. A ' little a'oohol was set on tire on his j abdomen, and he seemed to enjoy it. | There was every evidence that it was a genuine an r stliesia, and a strong Fara- I die current run from the spine to the j legs did not dispel the idea. Such an ! extensive amesthesia had never b en i met with before, and the medical pro- ] fession took a great interest in examin- j ing the patient. He did not object to ! any test that was suggested. His mind vas ill at ease and ho exhibited peevish- | nes.s at times, but this was thought to | be due to the effect of the disease upon I the brain. Another peculiar feature was that quite frequently there would be a swell- I ing in the back of the patient's neck, in the form of a pouch, similar to that seen in pigeons. The pouch was soft and I disappeared of its own accord. It could [ be flattened entirely by pressure. Such j an interesting affair could not help but j arouse curiosity as to its cause, and Dr. ' Coudert took the? best means of finding | it out. Without placing the patient under the influence of ether, the sur geon made nu incision into the patient's neck and found that the bag was simply tlio skin in an elastic form. A small , channel, which had been left by the ab- j sccss, ran from the skin to the back of the mouth, and the mysterious swelling j was easily explained. The patient, by • filling his lungs, could, by an attempt, to expel the air while his nose and mouth were tightly closed, force the air through this channel and distend the skin in the back of the neck. The patient submitted to the closing of this artificial opening into the mouth and the other parts of the operation without a word of complaint, and his flesh never quivered as the knife sank I through it. i The operation disclosed that tlio j patient had been deceiving the physici j ans in one thing, at, least, and when his ' body was weakened by the wound the physician constantly hiimmetcd into his mind that lie was an impostor, rind finally his resolution gave way and lie admitted that ho had been practicing deception ever since lie had the epilep tic fits 011 the St. Mary. Th*s was ft most remarkable confes sion, He had endured pain and tor ture of almost every kind Without a liiurmiir, Simply for the purpose of boiiig rt riuriosity and deceiving the physicians. Hfi ' picked up enough knowledge to carry him tliidugh by reading medical books while on the s -hoolsliip. Such endurance as he showed was never seen before, and the manner in which he could control the muscles so as to prevent the out wold manifestation of pain, by will power, riide l as It probably Was by a body not naturally sensitive, Will be ail interesting study for students in meta physics. Fitzgerahl now admits that fie felt everything that was done to him, *it* I says that the pain at times was sevcrd. DELICIOUS PURPLE WORMS. An Article of Food Which the Piute Indians Gather. When, in 1849, the California gold fever was making itself felt throughout the country, J. M. Keelcr was a young man living in the East. He was not proof against the impulse to seek his fortune iil the Initios, alld came to New York with the hojie of finding partners, 111 this he was not disappointed, and with a number of others he chartered a New Orleans packet, stocked it with previsions to last a year and a half, sailed around Capo Horn and reached the Gold ell Gate in safety. Since then Mr,Kefiler lias almost lived continuously in Californiftjbut is now visiting this city, arid has brought with 111111 many fine in in era logical specimens. After showing these to a reporter the other day, ho lian led to the latter a small bottle, say ing: "Do you know what those tilings are >" In the bottle were a dozen or move dark colored objects, shrivelled, but juicy-looking. The average length was about one inch, and they had the appearance of luscious raisins. The re porter said he supposed that was what they wel'e. Tiie Californian smiled, too, as lie said: "No, they are not, they're worms." Then he went 011 to say tlmt they were considered a great i luxury by the Pluso Indians. "I call tbein the nut pine worm, .bo cause they feed on the nut pine tree; what the scientific name is I do not know. On the Eastern slope of the Si erra Novada Mountains in Southern California, between Bodio and Bishop's Creeks is a great stretch of theso nut pine trees. They bear a small nut ex tremely rich in oil. So rich are they that you don't wnnt to ent many of them. In August the ground under the trees begins to be covered with green worms, thick as a man's finger and from one and a half to two and a half inches in length. The worms soon grow wings and fly into the trees. The worm,which should now be dignified by the. name of butterfly, does not leave the tree, but soars around among the branches ex tracting the oil from the nuts. In about a month the body is full of oil; so full, in fact, that the entrails ha\o been forced out. Then the wings fall off. "It is about this time that the Fiutes make their appearance and camp among the trees. They come in large numbers and provided with sacks. The worm having lost its wings again, it crawls along the limbs of the tree to the trunk and falls to the ground. Incidentally it falls into a trap prepared by the Indians. To prevent the worms from escaping they dig trenches around the roots of the treo, the trenches having concave sides. I have known of a bushel of worms being taken from one of theso trenches. When the crop of worms has been harvested, the Indians build tires 011 flat stones or the hard earth. When the bed has become hot, not hot enough to roast, the worms are spread upon it and dried. They arc then placed in the sacks ami carried to the. Piute camps. A frioinl of mine once told me that lie had ono season estimated that fifty tons of these worms were gathered and dried." "How do the Indians uso the worms?" I 44 Jn soups. The Piutes seem nover ;to tire ot' soup. They have it almost | every day. A buck is allowed two worms I and a squaw, cne for each dish of soup. Sometimes a gallant Indian gives a pretty or popular squaw one of his por tion. The worms are not eaten until the soup has been consumed, they being re served as a final tid bit. I have tasted tlie worms and found them very palat ablo. They are rich and oily, like the nut upon which they feed." —[New York Tribune. The Balm of Gilead. Balm of Gilead, in English, stands for several distinct plants, and is sutli eient proof that some other than the English, or any living language, is neco. sary, in a scientific sense, to name plants by. For example, we have a poplar known by this name, and to botanists as Abelc balsamifera var. can dicans, and so named on account of a resinous gum that covers the buds of the tree early in the spring, and of a i strong perfume. Then there is a plant ! called Balm of Gilead that used to bo cultivated by cottagers and others in the | garden and window, of a delicious fro -1 glance of the leaves when rubbed, nnu which is Dracoceplialum canarien.se, a | plant with blue flowers from the Canary i Isles. It is also called Dragon's head, | one variety, !>. parviflorum, being com- I tnon in this country on rocky placesand | by our lakes. , | the lhdm of Gilead spoken of in the | 1 Scriptures, and known in the form of a I drug, is obtained from a plant called , Amyris Gileadensis, growing to the size of a small shrub, with protuberant buds and loaded with a balsamic resin. Lin- I nans, in naming this plant, obtained | the name from the Greek a and muron, l meaning a balm. The English word halm, or baiim, itself being derived ; from the Greek, meaning to heal. It f formed an article of merchandise across I the desert, that we know of when Joseph j was sold to the Egyptians, seventeen I hundred years before the Christian era, | very much as it is known to this day, ami is graphically ' spoken of in | Jeremiah as a healing halm for all wounds. There is a number of species, and among them the famous rose-wood of | commerce, A. balsamifera, also called candlewood, is found in Jamaica. All i parts of the tree are full of the warm , aromatic particles, of considerable value in medics, as arc? others found on the same island. There is one member of the genus, a native of East Florida, named A. Eloridana by Nuttall.— | Prairie Farmer. ONE of the worst cases of revenge upon a motlier-in-lnw is reported from Buenos Avres. The young man had quarreled with and left her. He then advertised in the papers that, at the house whero i she was living 44 a domesticated croco dile" was for sale, and lor days the poor i j old lady was besieged by Kimdreds of ! I bidders for the curiosity. ' THE JOKERS' BUDGET. JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. What Kept Him—A Matter of Daily Bi'eacl -Ho Had Been Warned. WHAT HE CATiLED SLOSHING ABOUT. At a certain "court time "in Pike county, there was a trial for a general row, and a witness testified that the 1 Slantonstall "just kept slosliin' about." i As this remark regarding the chivalrous Slantonstall was frequently repeated, j said the lawyer for the defence: ! "Come, witness, say over again what It Was that Mr. Slantonstall had to do j with the affair," " Slantonstall ? Why, I've told you , several times the rest of 'em clinched and paired off, but Slantonstall he just kept slosliin'about." # "Ah, my good fellow," exclaimed j Nat, quite test ly, " wo want to know what that is. It isn't exactly legal evi dence, in the shape you put it. I'ell us what you mean by sloshing about. " Well," answered the witness, very deliberately, " I'll try. You see John Browet and Sykes, they clinched and fought. That's ill legal form, ain't it?' "Oh, yes," said Nat, "go on." "Abneyand Blackmail pitched into each other, and Blackmail gave Abney a black eye—that's legal, too, ain't it.'" "Proceed!" "Simpson and Stokes and Murray was altogether on the ground, a liittin one another—that's legal, too, ain't it! 1 " "Yes, but what about Slantonstall!" "And Slantonstall made it his busi ness to walk backward and forward through the crowd, with a big stick in his hand, and knock down every loose man in the crowd, as fast as he come 011 'em. That's what I call slosliin' about." —JNew York Mercury. A MATTER OF DAILY BREAD. "My friend," said the long coated old man, solemnly, "haveyou made prepar ation for the day of judgment ?" "Sir," replied the young man, "that's how I make my living." "Young man!" •'l'm employed in the sheriff's office." —•[Time. AN IMPOSSIBILITY. Type-writer Agent—l called to sco you in reference to your type-writer. Would you exchange if you could get some improvements ? Merchant— I can't; I'm engaged to | her.—[Judge. COMMUNING WITH NATURE. Close by tlio sparkling brook whose silvery waters danced in the sunlight and rippled joyously over the golden sands they sat in silence—Georgo and Laura—drinking in the glorious beauty of the rustic scene and communing with Nature in one of her chosen shrines, j Afar in the west the sun seemed to 1 linger on the horizon's brim as if 1111- j willing to shut out from his gaze the j lovely landscape that glowed with a j softened and oven melancholy radiance j in his departing beams. A thrilling cry burst from the lips of the beautiful girl. "George? George!" she almost shrieked. "What is it, darling?" ho asked, placing his arm tenderly around her waist. " Has the romantic, yet oppres sive, liveliness of the scenery saddened your spirits " "No, George!" she screamed, wav her hands wildly and making a frantic jab at the small'of her back. " I think it's some kind of a bug!"—[Chicago Tribune. EXPERT TESTIMONY. Little Nan, of four summers, consider ing it her duty to entertain a lady who is waiting for mamma, enters into con versation: Nan—llavc you got any Jittlo girls? The Caller—Yes, 1 have two. Nan—D-do you over have to whip 'em { The Caller—l'm afraid I have to, sometimes. Nan —What do you whip 'cm with? The Ca'lor (amused)— Oil, when they've been very naughty I take my slipper. Nan (most feelingly, as mamma enters) —Y-yo-you ought to use a hail-brush; mamma does, and it hurts awfully.— [Life. A PROVISO ADDED. All old vag who had been in the habit of calling on a certain business man on Griswold street for dimes was asked the other day how much he would take t > keep away for all future time. He thought for a moment and then replied : "Give me fifty cents and I'll never bother you again." "I'll do it, Here—let me draw up a writing to that effect." All agreement was drawn up and the vag read it over and laid it down with the remark: "I can't do it. There's something cold-blooded about that." "Hut you agreed to." "Yes, 1 know, but think of a man sell ing his manhood for fifty cents. I'd starve first." , "Well, how much do you want?" "A dollar." "I'll split the difforonco with you." "Well, I'll sign, but I want a proviso inserted that I do not hereby lose my , self respect, and that Ido not forfeit the . right to come up stairs and strike the man in the next room if I get hard , U P" It was added, and he signed and went oft" to strike a free lunch con 11 tor. —| De troit Free Press. WOULDN'T 1112 DAJTEL). "Hut if you don't love him, Clara," why are you going to marry him ?" "Hecauso ho dared me to, mamma. He know my high-spirited nature, too. O, I 'll mako him sorry enough for it, don't you bo afraid!" (Chicago Tribune. TUB SLOW MESSENOELL BOY. Hagley—l saw a, me'ancholy sight a few days ago—a messenger boy stand ing pensively mi tlio street corner. Fogg —That's nothing. Hagley—No, but some, one had hung on the boy's back a sign: "Will move about August I."—[St. John Telegraph. NO MOKE SALKfs. Confectionery ami Tec-Cream Man We'll lose ten of our best customers text week." Assistont—Wo will? Are they going to Oklahoma' "No; they're going to get married. | [New York Weekly. AN EXPEKT. "What is an echo if" fisked the teach er of the infant class. "It's what you lu ar when yon shout," replied a youngster. "Js it caused by a hill or * hollow?" ; again asked the teacher. "Hoth," wns the ready reply. "How so?" 1 "The hill throws back the holler." — j I [Binghainpton Republi"<*n. WILKINS'fI SLUR. Grigsley (after offering his box to Wilkins and both have lighted their cigars)—l like to lie back in an easy chair like this, Wilkins, and forget the cares of the day. What a solace is a good cigar! See that! How pleasing life looks through an azure cloud of Havana! We've nothing to complain of, I should say, Wilkins. Wilkins—Nothing; unless it is the cigar.—[Chicago Herald. WHAT KEPI' HIM. Irate Mamma—Goodness mo? It's half an hour since I sent you around to the store to get those things, and here you are back without them. Little Dick —It was such a long time before my turn came to bo waited ou that 1 forgot what it was you wanted. "Then why didn't you come homo and find out?" I "I was afraid if I left I'd lose my turn."—[New York Weekly. A QUERY. I Have yon ever perceived the expression Of jo.v that creeps over a man's face. When the bootjack strikes with a dull, dead thud And he knows he has struck the right place? —[Lawrence (Mass.) Aiueiicau. A TING LINO MEMORY. Times there are when people tingle Recollecting days of old j When the mother took the shingle And the thud was harsh and bold —[Boston Courier. FAIR PLAY. Ah, husband, do not scold you wife And make htfr poor heart ache. Because she can't build pies like those Your mother used to make. That is, unless your quite prepured To seethe whole thing through, And buy her hats and dresses as ller father used to do. ONE MORE FAKE. Mrs. Rilgood—Poor man! how did yon lose your leg? Mr. Rip tout (accepting the quarter)— It got stolen. Mrs. Rilgood—Stolen? Mr. Riptout—Yes, marni; lifted.— [Judge. A C'OOL SPELL. Mr. Jingle—What word is Alice form ing with her blocks? Mrs. Jingle—lce cream. Mr. Jingle—l thought so. Do you know, when she makes that word it al ways puts me in mind of the little tiff we had several weeks before wo were named ? Mrs. Jingle—Why? Mr. Jiiiglo—lt's such a cool spoil. NOT SO VERY THRILLING. "Has MeCorkle told you that hair raising story of his?" "No; is it thrilling?" "Not particularly. It's merely his no count oi cultivating his moustache." A FUNNY STORY. Duinlcy ( who Jias just told a funny Btoiy)—Ha! lift ! ha! not bad, oh? r'cathcrly—No, Pumley, not very bad; uiuf you toll it so much better than you used to. —[Harper's Magazine, MUST TO FRIENDLY. Bjomes—You ami Giles have becomo great friends of late. Morritt —I should say so. When we meet now he doesn't tap me on the shoulder; he thumps me in the back. nis HAD BEEN WARNED. Prudent Parent—But can you support a family, Mr. Dolley ? Dolley—Ob, I don't propose to try to. I'\e been warned against marrying all my wife's family.—[Bazar. HOT ENOUGH FOR YOU. He—What are the wild waves saying? She—Oil, they are probably making some current remarks. - [Philadelphia Press. PHILOSOPHICAL REASONING. Farmer—See here, stranger, tlier' hain't no lisli in this stream ! Fisherman (sadly)—lt doesn't make any difference; I wouldn't catch any if tlier' was ! —[Puck. A DISMAL DRIVE. She—l am sorry, Mr. Browne, that I cannot bo otherwise than a sister to you. It is getting late, by the way, and I think J had better be home soon; would you mind hurrying up the horse ? lie (savagely)-Oh, not at all, but you see J expressly asked for an old j horse, and wo are seven miles from j home, and this nag only makes tlireo ! miles an hour. Get up, there, you ! ! [Bazar. DOES IT PAY? "Does it pay to strike!" shouted the | orator. i "It depends on how much you striko for," said the base ball enthusiast. "If it is a tliree-baggcr it pays every time." A CHANGE or OPINION. "A nymph of the wood. 1 ' lie willed her when She tripped over mountain, field and glen; but then—alas for hits fancy free— A nyniph of the wouldn't she proved to bo. —[Bazar. California's Seed Trade. The seed trade appears to be destined to a very great expansion in California at a not very distant period. In tlio single county of Santa Clara, not less than 1,200 acres are now devoted to the production of garden socds. Over 00,- 1)00 pounds of lettuce seed and 120,000 pounds of onion seed have been shipped Hast in a single season. In other coun ties a guile important business has been developed in the production of clover seed, beans and pens for the supply of I distant markets. While the State may not secure the monopoly of the seed business, because goou seeds are grown in the Atlantic Suites, the rapid increase of business in California indicates tliat one at least of the great cent:es oi the seed business is said to bo in that State. The quality of many small seeds pro duced there, such as onion and lettuce, will have much to do in bringing the seod interest into greater promiuonco. Profit From Beet Sugar. Some idea of the profit to bo dorived from the beet sugar industry may be formed from the fact that tlio refinery at Brohna, Germany, paid during 'the campaign of 1888-89 dividend< of J,IOO marks to the share. These shares are of a par value of only 1,000 marks, so that here is seen the extraordinary spuctaclo of a business that pay* 11.0 percent, profit in a single season. Tho experience of the refinery at Landsborg j is encouraging, though not equal to the 1 preceding eas*. The latter establish | mcnt paid dividends of 1,000 marks ou i shares costing 2,000 marks each -no I small profit- under any circumstance, j THERE hasbeen a marked decrease of strikes within t lie past three years. In ; 188(5 the number of employees involved j in strikes and lockouts was 4-18,000, in 1887 about .'Mo,OOO, and in 1888 only (211,000. At the name time there was ! an increase in the number of successful J strikes.