NATURAL GAS. BT OZIAS UIDBVatMSB. The mistress* and Miirfliy were taking a <ln;-o; The nmid in the kiu-lu'.'i w,IH inomlinq her hose. The master was sleej'iugout under a tree. When Baruli Arm's An us was bit by a th-u That was looking about for a place whore he Could be boring for natural gas. The flea struck a vein that caused Amos to spout, It drew twenty-one of his corpuscles out; Then triod Sarali Ami for u mile of dessert, But carefully, so the supply uot to hurt, Bo lit on the moutli of ihe dear little flirt, On the seat of her nuturul gas. It punctured the surface, it stuck in its drill, But drew it out quick!v. but not at its will; For the well was a guslier, and blew it in hasto From the hole it ha I dug in the powder and paste, It got more than it v anted, more than a taste Of Miss Sarah Ann's natural gas. The gas which escaped was a rnlk in a dream, And liftd for lta sub < •?. its object, and theme, The kisses of divers at <1 sundry young men Which Sarah Ann's Hps had kissed now and then, And seemed to lari;< ut that her Amos had been Blow iii drilling for natural gas. Tho joy of tho maiden beamed bright as she spake, Heroyes were asleep, but her soul was awake. She thought that tho liolo which the little flea bored Was a kiss of her lover, lier modest young lord, Bhe thought that at, least she hud got Amos floored; Ho was boring for natural gas. A moment sly Amos regretted the day The gas-inclined ins- ct had jumped in their way, And then all his bashful decliufngseschewed, His lips to her lips ho cemented and glued ( Ho fondled the beauty, her tiny ear chewed. He was boring for natural gas. CHICAGO, 111. HE BEGGED FOR MERCY. A WITNESS' STORY. During the month of February, 1853. Seth Damon, of Acton, instituted an action at law against Gabriel Butter worth, of the same town, for the re covery of thirty thousand dollars, oJ which he claimed that said Butter worth had defrauded him. The circum stances were these; Butterwortli owned and kept the principal store in Acton, and though he had never been regarded as an ex emplary gentleman, his honor in busi ness had not been impugned. Those who had the faculty of looking upon the undercurrents of human actions decided that he was a man not bound by honor, but who understood tho laws of self-interest too well to he guilty oi small meannesses in business. What he was capable of doing on a grand scale was not mooted until the occurrence ot which I am about lo speak. Seth Damon had removed from Ed eon to Acton in the fall, and had pur chased the iron works. Shortly after concluding tho purchase ho had a pay ment of thirty thousand dollars to make, and late on a Saturday after noon he arrived from New York with the money—part of it in bank notes and part of it in gold. When he arrived he found that, the parties to whom the money was to be paid had left town, and would not return rill Monday. Mr. Butterwortli had the only reliable safety-vault in town, and to Mr. But terwortli Damon took the thirty thou sand dollars, asking permission to lodge | it in his vault over the Sabbath, which permission was readily and cheerfully | granted. During Sunday night the people of the villago were aroused by the alarm of tire; and upon starring out it was found that the alarm came from But terworth's store, but Mr. Butterwortli had been active. He had discovered the tire in season, and, with the assist ance of his boys, had put it out before much damage had been done. Upon looking over the premises it was found that the lire had not only been the ev ident work of an incendiary, but that it bad been set in several different places. "How fortunate," said the owner, "that I discovered it in season." But very soon another discovery was made. The safety-vault had been pro ken open, and every dollar it had con tained stolen away! Here was alarm and consternation. Gabriel Butter wortli seemed tit to go crazy. "For myself I cure not," lie cried. "A few hundreds were all I had in there; but my friend hud a great sum!" Immediate search for the robber, or robbers, was instituted, and word was sent far and near to all Sheriffs and their deputies, and to the police of the cities. Now it had so happened that 011 that very Sunday evening or, I may say, Sunday night, for it was near midnight—l, John Wat son, had been returning from my brother's, in Dunstable. I had left my hired team at the stable, and 011 my way to my boarding-house I passed tho store of Mr. Butterwortli. 111 the back yard of the store was a horse trough, and, being thirsty, I stepped around that way to get a draught of water. As I stooped to drink at the spout of tho fountain I saw a gleam of light through a crevice in the shutters of one of the store windows. Curiosity impelled me to go and peer through; for I wondered who could be in there at that hour of a Sunday night. The crevice was quite large, mado by 0 wearing away of the edges of tin shutters where they had been caught by tho hooks that held them bach when open, and throught it I looked into tho store. I looked upon the wall within which the safety-vault was built; and I saw the vault open, and i saw Gabriel Butterworth at work therein. I saw him put large packages ; into his breast pocket, and 1 saw him | bring out two or three small canvas j bags, and set thorn upon the floor by j the door that opened toward his dwell- 1 ing. As I saw him approaching this j outer door a second time I thought lie might come out, and 1 went away. It was an hour afterward that 1 heard tho alarm of lire. And it was not until tliq ! following morning that I heard of the robbery of the safe. I was placed in a critical position; but I bad a duty to perform. I went to Mr. Damon, and told him what 1 bad seen; and also gave him liberty to call upon me for my testimony in pub lic when lie should need it. Until 1 ; should be so called upon I was to hold my silence. While the officers where hunting! hither and thither, Mr. Damon kept aj strict watch upon the movements of Mr. Buttcrworth, and at length de tected him in the act of depositing a large sum of money in a hank in Buf falo. His action immediately followed anil Buttenvorth was arrested. This was the way matters stood when I was summoned to appear before the Grand Jury at AViltonburg. 1 went there in company with Mr. Damon, and secured lodgings at the Kahine House. It was a small inn, well and comfortably kept, and frequented by patrons of moderate means. There were two public houses of more fash ionable pretensions in the place. it was on the ufternoou of Monday, the 14til day ot February, that 1 tool; quarters at the Sabiuo House, and after tea I requested the landlord to build a lire in my room, which he did, and he also furnished me with a good lamp. It was eight o'clock, and I sat at the table engaged in reading, when someone rapped upon my door. I said. "Come in." and a young man named Laban Slinw entered. This Sliaw 1 bad known very well as a clerk of Gabriel Butterwortli, but I had never been intimate with him from the fact that I had never liked liim. Ho must have seen the look of displeasure upon my face, for he quickly said: "Pardon me, Mr. Watson. I don't mean to intrude. I have come down to be present at tho examination to morrow—summoned by Butterwortli's man, of course—and 1 got here too late to get a room with a stove in it; and, worse still, I must take a room with another bed in it. and with a strangei for company. And so, may I just warm 1113' lingers and toes by your lire, and leave my carpet bag under your bed V" He laughed when lie spoke of the carpetbag; hilt yet he did not know what sort of a faculty his strange? room-mate might have for getting up and walking off in the night. Of course 1 granted him his request, and he put his carpet bag under my bed, and then sat down by my stove and we chatted sociably enough foi half an hour or more without once alluding to the business which had brought the pair of us to Wiltonburg His conversation was pleasant, and 1 really come to like the fellow; and J thought to myself that I had been prejudiced against him without cause. At length he arose, and bade me good night, and went away, and shortly af terward I retired. I had been in bed but a little while, when another rap upon my door dis turbed me; and to my demand of what was wanted I received answer from Laban Shaw. He bude me not to light a lamp. He bad only come foi liis nightgown. He could get it in the dark. I arose and unlocked my door, and his apologies were many and earn est. He always slept, in winter, in a flannel nightgown, aud he had thought lessly left it in his carpet-bag. He A-ua sorry—very sorry. He had thought to try to sleep without it rather than dis turb me, but bis room was cold, and I cut him short, and told liim there was 110 need of further apology; and while he fumbled over his bag, I went to the stove to make double assurance that the fire was all right. I offered [ <0 light a match for him. but he said he had got his dress and till was right. He then went out, and I closed and locked the door after him, and then got back into bed. But I was not to sleep. I had been very sleepy when Shaw disturbed me: but an entirely different feeling pos sessed me now. First came a nervous twitching in my limbs a " craw ly " feeling. as some express it—that sensation which induces gap ing and yawning, but which no amount of yawning could now subdue. By-and-by a sense of nightmare stole upon me; and, though perfectly awake, a sense as of impending danger pos sessed me. At length, so uncomforta ble did I become in my recumbent position, that I arose and lighted 1113' lamp, resolved to replenish my lire, and dress myself, and see if 1 could read away my nervous lit. My lamp was lighted, and as I re turned to the bedsido for my slippers, my attention was attracted by a string which lav upon the carpet—a string leading from the bed to the door. I stooped to examine it, and found it fasl sit both ends. I brought the lamp and took a more careful survey. The string was a lino silken trout line, new and strong, one end of which disappeared beneath the bed and the other beneath the door. 111 my then present condi tion I was suspicious of evil, and 1113 senses were painfully keen. Raising the hanging edge of tho coverlet I looked under the bed. TIII carpet bag which Laban Shaw bad left lay there, partly open, wit! the silken line leading out from it What could it mean? Had the mar accidentally carried the end of the lint away with his night-dress without no ticing it? I drew the bag out from be neath the bed, and as 1 held its jawt apart I saw, within, a double-barreled pistol, both hammers cocked, bright percussion caps gleaming upon the tubes, while the silken lino, with dou ble end, was made fast to the triggers! And I saw that tho muzzles of tho pis tol barrels were inserted into the end of an oblong box, or case, of galvan ized iron. And I comprehended, too, that a very slight pull upon that string might have discharged tho pistols— and, furthermore, that a man outside of my door might have done that thing! For a little time my hands trembled so that I dared not touch the infernal contrivance; but at length I composed myself, and went at work. First, I cut the string with my knife; and then, as carefully as possible, I eased down tho liammors of the pistol, after which I drew it from the iron case. I had just done this when I heard a step in the ball outside my door. Quick as thought I sprang up, and turned the ko3 r , and threw the door open; and before me, revealed by the light, of my lamp, stood Laban Shaw. He was fright ened when ho saw me, and trembled j like an aspen. I was stronger than lie ut any time, and now he was as a child I in my hands. I grasped him by the | collar, and dragged him into my room; I and I poiuted tho double-barreled pistol at his breast; and I told him I ! would shoot him as I would shoot a !tlog if lie gave me occasion. Ho was abject and terrified. Like a whipped cur lie crawled at my feet, | and begged for mercy. His master ! had hired him to do it with promise of j great reward. It had transpired that my testimony before tho jury would be conclusive of Butterwortli's guilt, and Butterworth had taken this means to get rid of mo. In his great, terror, i the poor accomplice made a full con fession ; and when he had told all I I released my grasp. He begged that I | would let him go; but I dared not— | my duty would not allow it. I rang my bell, and in time the hostler, who slept in the office, answered my sum mons. I sent him for an officer, and at length had the satisfaction of seeing my prisoner led safely away. On the following day the carpet-bag was laken before the Grand Jury and the iron ease examined by an experi enced chemist, assisted by an old ar- | morer from the arsenal. It was found to contain a fulminate of mercury, mixed with bits of iron ; and it was tl'lo opinion of Iw>th tho chemist and tlio armorer that the power of the explo sive agent, had it been ignited as it was placed, beneath my bed, would not only liave been sufficient to blow me to atojns. but that it would also have lit ! orany stripped ana Hiiiverect to Irng i ments nil of the house above it! ' And a single pull of that silken string would have been sufficient to this horrible end! And but for my nervous M aking—my incubus of fore boding the destroyer would have come; the fatal cord would have been touched, the mine sprung, and I should have been launched into eternity as upon tlie lightning's bolt! And so Gabriel Butterworth did not procure the destruction of my testi mony, but through that testimony the Grand Jury found cause for indictment of far graver character than had at first been anticipated, and of those graver charges he was convicted. Seth Damon received back the full sum he had intrusted to the falso man's care and shortly afterward I entered into business with him, and to-day Seth Damon and I are partners. Laban Shaw came out from prison and wont to Idaho. I have not heard of him since. Gabriel Butterworth did not live to serve out his full term of sen tence. Fled Before the Wrath to Come. They were always very polite to each other when they were arguing, and when they contradicted one another very flat it was always with a most elaborately polite preface. They had it the other night. U I beg your pardon, dear, but you really must be mistaken. It was " "No, my sweet, you're wrong. It was " "Now, darling, I know bettor. Didn't "Really, wife, you are away off, be cause I " "My dear John, you are mistaken, quite mistaken." "Well, since you know all about it, of course I " "It is you who know all about it. I merely say " "You don't know anything about it. You're all wrong." At this point the voices were getting rather high, and the small kid, playing with her doll house in the corner, sud denly got up, pulled her little skirts out, and said: "I guess I'll get out of this." And she took three great big steps toward the door. Then father and mother looked at her and then at each other, and it was tco much for them. The argument was all over. Too High. The new reporter, a young man whose graduating essay, entitled, "The Unseen Forces of Moral Philosophy," had been highly complimented by the professor of botany, took a seat near the city editor's desk. "I am delight ed," said ho, speaking to the editor, to think that I have so easily and with so little delay found the work for which I am well fitted. How do you liko my j sketch, 'Walraven St. Borrie?'" "It is magnificent," the editor an swered, as he took out the manu script. "Your diction is delightful and your style is captivating; and in nearly every lino there is a gentle yet strong rebuke to the blunt and com monplace writer." "My dear sir," exclaimed the repor ter, "you charm me." "For instance," said the editor, tak ing no notice of the reporter's enthus iasm, "you say that Walraven located in this portion of the country." "Yes; do you like the way I ex press it ?" "I am delighted. Some writers- old Pinkney, out there, for instance—would have said that Walraven settled in this part of the country." "Yes, I soe. Ho doesn't understand rhetoric very well, does he?" "Oh, no; not at all. Here is another excellent point," said tho editor, turn ing the leaves of tho manuscript. "You say that Walraven went to a hardware establishment and procured a rifle." "That's good, isn't it?" "First-class. Old Pinkney would have said that he went to a hardware store and bought a rifle." "That's because ho is orudo in his manner of expression, isn't it?" "Assuredly. And again you say that Walraven partook of refreshments." "How does it strike you?" "Way up." "What would Pinkney have said?" "Oh, in his vulgar way he would have said that Walraven ate supper or luncheon, or something of that sort." "I wonder that he does not learn bettor," said the reporter. "It seems that lie should. By the way, we cannot afford to use* this sketch. It is too high for our readors." "What must I do with it?" "Bring it out in pamphlet form and sell it on the campus." "That's a good idea; I'll do it. Shall | I go out now and write something V" "No; old Pinkney is covering the ground pretty well. You may go to the county asylum, though." "To write up tho abuses of tho insti tution ?" "No, to stay there until we send for you. Good day." A Sailly AHI id cil Journalist. William Ernest Henly, editor of ; Scott's Observer, is one of tho men j who have had literary greatness thrust 1 upon them, and ho lias paid a fearful physical price for his mental develop- j ment. He began life as a laborer, un conscious of latent intellectual power, unversed in the primary elements of education, and a man of dissipated j habits. He met with a terrible acoi- | dent, both lower limbs being crushed ! beneath a boulder, and while at tho hospital for treatment met Robert Louis Stevenson, who was also a pa tient at the institution. Then commenced the mental exist ence which has led him from the stages of newspaper correspondent, art editor, and magazine contributor to the rank of poot. His limbs are still completely paralyzed, and lie does all his work in an invalid ehair, out of which towers his massive blonde head, set on a magnificent pair of shoulders. His conversation is brilliant, and ho counts his friends among the cleverest and most brilliant literary men of Lon don HE WAS A JOURNALIST, | BUT PROVED A SAD FAILURE AS A DETECTIVE-REPORTER. Miscarriage of Bis Original Schemes for Scooping His Rivals —He Is Now Doing Time on a-Humorous" Paper-Bill Nye'* Hleutli Friend. J~ E STEHDAY Vk V/ I saw a sad. jj| suiii that ho had 4 l" \ Jpi boon regarded al all-around news paper man who nulUli "y worked Sr kind of d -seriptive StriP T ill work on short no ,By . "Vli tioe, and had done Mf il ovei ything from i I '• from a tour / hour Ppooch or tonbolu considered agouti ~ man. Lately ho had decided that ho would strike out for original me hods ami thus in crease his salary. Ho had noticed how M*el it paid to do tho dotectiio-roport<*r stylo cl work, and so ho thought ho would do some of it. Ho lia i come on from an intorioi eiiy, and other newspaper men had told bun that to get on rapidly ho should dc some difficult thing and then M'L ito it up Other people had tried in New York, bul Jailed bocuu o ihoy just tackled tho old re jliuble stock of dim-museums, elevated rail iroad. Castle Garden, and tho purk—iohc ought to do some daring and dangerous act, after which ho could write it up and gel big pay for it. lie tried it gently by ri ling on a street cai all day and talking with tho d iver and con ductor. Ho picked cut a good-nuturcd lookiug driver and bright conductor o.i n Broadway car and rode a 1 one attoruoon w.th them, getting good stories from both wuilo ho rode first on tho front and then on tii rear of tho car. Each man told hiiu ol the hardships of Ids position. The drivei said that, though a young man, ho had quite a family at homo, and that on his sal ary he found it very diffb ult to clothe the .little ones, to say nothing of sending them to seiiooL His wife wus blind, having lost ;her sight from tho effects of overwork with -her needlo at night without sufficient light, so that the little oims were practically or phans. He had a long, hard day's work to ido, after which ho had to cook enough for • the next day, and mend tho chililien's •clothes while they wore iu bod. And yet ,the company docked him at ev ry possible (point, and abused him if ho dared to sit ■down to drive on a dull day. Tho conductor told a sad story of priva tion also. He said ho had only one littlo girl, but she was a cripple. The child had come one day to bring his dinner to him. .and n tho way hud boon run ovor by a brewery wagon loaded with glucose beer and u lut driver. Tho conductor hoard her scream and ran to her in time to snatch her out from under tho hind wheels, but tip other wheels ran ovor her and injured her spine. Now ho had to leave her at home all day in charge of his wife's mother, who was naralyzed on one side and an habitual drunkard on the other. Yes, ho said, the company docked him for the time he was absent when he tan to save his little girl, though he only lost one trip. Ho was not a complaining man.hu said, but sometimes it seemed hard. The reporter made copious notes, and that night made two columns ot tho story for the Sabbath paper. Whnn it apDcared ull the papers made fun of him. because both the driver and conductor of that car were reporters, who wore also getting uatoriul for their jour nals, and when they saw that ho was se curing information for publication they proceeded at a rapid rate to fill him up, and, oven as the reporter was listening to the smooth and tearful tale of the driver, tho conductor was thinking up what ho also would tell him. In the afternoon the editor told him that he would not do. "You ought to know better than that." ho said. "You have made us a subject of mirth, for the other papers have got their stories direct Jrom the driver aud tho conductor of tho same car, and the worst of it is that they tell all about how they loaded you up with prop erty facts and low. course falsehoods. You ought to know better than to show your note-book, anyway, unless you want to bo done up. Now, go and act at once, and do something creditable, or go uway and never come back any more. I am sick and tired of people who have no originality of thought. \N hy do you not load a life or shame or murder somo one, and write It up for us?" Tho reporter said ho would do tho host, he could. He begun by taking a drink at a place where you can got a cooktail. a fresh egg. and a bowl of bread and milk, with music and a shave, for ton cents. When wo stop to consider ihat t le cost of I BEING TAKEN IN BY ANOTHER REPORTER. the bread, milk, egg, mieij, etc., is all Hakou out of the quality of the cocktail wo int once arrive at tho conclusion that the 'liquor Is of un inferior quality. He drank another and then decided tc I gradually work his May over to tho Ine briates' Homo, where ho had hoard there wus very poor food for tho inmates and a good Hold for nowapuocr work, 110 took another Attorney street cocktail and a •breath of air. and soon lot off a veil which awoke a police somnambulist, ('loaded to madness by thus being aroused iu tho mid dle of tho afternoon, tho policeman hit the report r a sickening blow on the head and took him to the station. On tho following day tho reporter tried to write it up as far as ho had gone, but his head hurt him so that lie gave it up. f iho other papers. hoMOver, ha-1 real good ac counts of tho incident, giving his name n d also his stating that he was a reporter who had made an u-s of himself by i viewing two other reporters on a street car, and filled the columns of the press with horror ovor an imaginary tale of woo, well calculated to injure the street-car lino. So he d d not try to intervi w the Ine briates' Homo at all. He just stayed for a few days at a littlo inebriate's homo of his own, and tried to make his wifo believe M hat he told her about tho origin of the trouble. He hired out then for a day or two as as sistant to a tinner, and went with him to assist him in putting a tin patch on tho country seat of a wealthy man. Here he got to thinking onoo more of his old work and also of the great field for usefulness in the detective line. First ho thought ho would try it us a stowaway, but he only tried ont vessel and found that another pupoi had a representative there, and one .aowiwuy was really all that tho vossol would accom modate. Then It occurred to him to got smuggled Into a dissecting class. He hail heard that the classes in anatomy at. ono of the big col leges were very much depraved, and that they played base-ball with the heart of a subject, and when thov went to lunch. In order to prevont fellow students from swip ing their pipes and chewing tobacco, many of thorn concealed these articles during the lunch hour in tho thorax of said subject. He decided, thoreloro, that, ghastly as tho subject wa, ho would havo to do it. After a good deal of delay he got permission as a friend only to visit a dissecting 100 m as a young visiting physician from Philadelphia. I He desired to reveal the true horrors oi the I dissecting room with his treuohaut pen and cnuß nrtnjn a namo ana a salary wiucn would rattlo along down the corridors ot time. He asked if ho might be permitted to seo tho gentleman uoon whom tho class pro posed to elucidate and Mas given permis sion to visit tho room prior to the hour of demonstration, "if he would agree not to carry anything away." 8 Ho went nervously into the place by hira elf in order to get his courage up. Also t j make u few notes. He saw something that looked like a person concealed under a covering evidently doing tho sir John Moore act. The reporter with Ms fatal no 1 e-book wont up to the table, and. won dering whether ho would soe a mangled criminal or a fair young Peri, ho gently lifted the sheet. It was a young man. There was nothing at nil shocking about lis appearance. He looked as if he might be slumbering. Una could almost fancy that ho breathed. Pretty soon a la-go flv buzzed around for a moment and alighted on the white, hand- A LiriiiT OOBPIE some nose. The corpso stood it as long as it could, and then brushed him off. The reporter felt faint. He tottered and fell over against tho table. It tipped up a little, and the remains slid ofT at tho side. Boeing the note-book, the remains said: "Mister, are you a roporter?" "Yes, sir," said the sad man. "Well, shake, if you please. So am I. It struck me that It would bo a good idea to get at the insido of the traffic iu dissecting uoods and raw material for demonstration. I concluded to work it up and give it to tho public. 1 arranged tho matter so that I could be "snatched," and I guess I must have overslept myself. Tho thing wasn't what you could cull a success, however, although I have got enough notes to make a good story, but I have just found out, when It was too late, that another medical college surprised one of the reporters of the evening papers, so he'll scoop me at one o'clock on a story I had lor to-morrow morning." The sad reporter said thai ho went home to the office and asked for an assignment. "I have none for you." said the citv' -ditor, as lie put a column storv in the boiler and boiled it down to half a stickful; "wu have none." "Very well." said the reporter with a sob. "If you have no assignment for me 1 will go home, and with tho aid of my creditors I will make one myself." Ho is now doing time on a funny paper. AMFItICAN FABLES. THE WHALE AND THE CRAB. €■■ jn yi WHALE was one day \ * Vv I IsM'imming near tlie fr 0 riivV Bssi shore and chanced to f\vyA. rdh Isee a crab walking laround near the bank. "I wish," said the whale, "that I could walk on the ground like you can." "You arc a sucker," answered the crab. "If you were to get out here some Chicago man Mould catch you and turn you into butterine." MORAL. You bad better stay where you are. THE MULE AND THE FENCE. A mule one day tried to jump ovor a barb wire fence, but he did not jump high enough. "Bee here," he exclaimed angrily, as he took an inventory of his injuries, "what do you mean by tearing such great holes in my hide ? There are at least seventeen different wounds on me near tho equator. Have you no conscience V" "Reckon not," answered tho fence, as it picked some mule hair out of its teeth, "but I have barbs, as you doubt less found out. You jumped onto me. and now you may blame yourself." MORAL. Court-plaster and arnica will fix the mule up all right, and ho will try to jump the fence again." THE SHEEP AND THE TARIFF. "I notice," said a thoughtful man to a sheep, "that you are still raising wool on your back." "Yes, indeed," Mas tho answer, "and why not?" "Because the tariff has lowered so there is no money in wool. I should think you would quit raising it." "I do not raise wool for money," said the sheep, as he picked a cockle burr out of his tail. "I raise wool because when the wind next winter is LloM'ing through my whiskers, I shall need an overcoat. You may get warm in dis cussing the tariff, but I em not built that way." MORAL. It is a good thing to attend strictly to one's business.— Chicago Ledger. Quick Work. The cut of his coat always betrays an American who lias just returned front Euroj>e. No matter M'liat elso lio may or may not buy while ho is in England, our fellow-conntryiuaii always makes it a point to lay m a supply of clothes when ho readies London/ They al- M-ays seem to be so very much cheaper there. You go about among the shops "pricing" things, and you find an En glish tailor charging $25 for a suit of clothes for which a New York tailor Mould charge SSO, using tho same ma terial. Tho same difference is observed in tho price of nearly every article of clothing—hats,overcoats, gloves, shirts, flannels, etc.—and the temptation to buy is too strong to bo resisted. One thing which always astonishes the American who orders clothes in Lon don is the tremendous rapidity with M'hich they are made. You have your measure taken in the morning, and a pair of trousers is delivered at your hotel before dinner time. Two or three suits can be made in twenty-four hours, and an overcoat in a day and a half. It would almost seem as if tho various parts of the garments flew together, and in some tailoring establishments they actually advertise to make clothes "while you wait." He Silenced the Crowd. A number of persons Mere talking about telescopes, and each professed to have looked through the "biggest in the world." One after another told of tho powerful effect of the respective telescopes. At last a quiet man said, mildly, "I once looked through a telescope. I don't know as it M as the largest in tho world. I hope it wasn't. But it brought the moon so near that we could see tho man in it gesticulating; and crying out, 'Don't shoot! Don't shoot!' The old fellow thought it was a big cannon that wo were pointing at him." The quiet man then subsided, and so did the rest of them. LETTERS FROM TIIE CORNERS. NECK on NOTHIN' HAIA. ) KILKENNY COBNKRH, 18U9. F GZ> a naR. EDITUR: EH I Jlwns a sayiu in my /^SS^^WIr D 8 to go W Jl lo!: e with us. I wK warn't overly tio 'iu °" en ses i° m ®' v " 0 ° ° I> o r ' never Jad no axperience, but I tell you Willam Henery air ouo in a thousan, an I ort to no. Good laws! I slie'd think she ort, fur she hes lied fore partners an is a lookin around right smart fur number ilve, an ef I were to die she'd try lier best to ketch Willam Henery, but thank fortune, I'm pretty tolable lielthy an there liuiut no will tier of fore men a goin to take my place rite off —no, not enyways soon, they won't. So when she were there reddy to go long, I was a leetle mite cool, not clear cold and liotty, but jest moderate cool-like. I were a leetle bit nervy fur feer the keers would run offen the track, or sumpthin else desperit ud happen. I want no ways cumfertible at furst, an when I seen Willam Ilenery a talkin to a cupple of slick lookin strangers I was afeard hed git into sum sort of a scrape. An he did. Sally hid uotised the strangers to, an she hunched me au whispers: "Salto's alive, Hester Ann, ain't them to men Mr. Scooper is a talkin to jest to heviugly fur enny thing; an look, they air acumming over this way. X feel tliet I hev met my fate! Is my hat on strait, an dew I look jest sad au sorrel ful enough fur one tliet hes ben resently bereeved ?" ses she, all of a twitter. I tole her she looked all right es fur es I cood see, and then Willam Henery he kim up an ses ho, tickleder an a little dog stuffed with taller; "Hester Ann, I'll bet you kaint tell me who them two fellers is." I looked the men caiuly in the eye, an I see thet they were dressed fit to kill, an I see thet I didn't know 'em, neither. At first I tliot one of 'em might bo Lemuel Martin, but I see his eyes wus black, while Lem's wus gray. "No," ses I; "I don't no 'es I've ever seen neither one of 'em." "Well, thare old frens 'o yourn, though you havn't seen 'em sence they were ohilder. This one is Sam Mur phy, an' this ouo is Lomul Martin." I coodn't make it seem nateral, but I didn't like to say nothin' es long es Sally and Willam Honery wus so tnk up with 'iin. Well, purty soon Lemnl says: "Well, Mr. Scooper, les hev a little game of guess," ses he, "like button-botton," an he takes out three little boxes and a button, an' continues: "Now, I'll put this button in one of these boxes an' the rest of you kin guess which ono it's in, an' the one thet guesses it may hev a five dollar gold piece," an he laid one down. "I'll bet $5 I kin tell," ses Sam. "An so'll I," ses Willam Henery, though I tred on his toe an shuk my head at him. "Mo too," ses Sally, a simperin; au when they guessed why Willam Hen ery he gessed it au then Lem sed hed bet twenty an they bet twenty all aroun an me a trampin Willam Hen erv's toe an a shakin my hed at the widder. Well they didnt nobuddy gess it thot time, an I jest rose up an collered Lem, an ses I: "Drap that mutiny!" an he drapped it. "Now," ses I sturnly, a shakin him, "you haint no more Lemul Martiu than I be an you no it. You git!" An ye got. Yes, Mister Editur, ho went as fast as he cood an Willam Henery an the Widder Hoggs wus purty thankful I wus thare. I reed the papers, I do. Well, an wo got to Matilda Ara bellas that nite. So no more at pres ent. HESTER ANN SCOOPER. Dogs of High Degree. J ERILY, it is better to be n rich man's (log than a poor B ijffN K man's child, as far as care and creat ure oomforts go, mIKEkW ttlu * * 8 l )r °bahle there is more f money spent upon fine dogs in this * country than would rear and educate ten thousand chil dren. The dog is a noble animal and doubtless the most intelligent of any, and possessed of much reasoning pow er, but dogs could dispense with some of the good things which fall to their lot and be the better off for it; for in stance, gold, silver and jeweled collars, and satin and velvet and embroidered baskets, cushions, and blankets. The style in dogs changes every six months for fashionable women, and just now the caprice runs toward black poodles, shaved in fantastic manner. This is the best kind of dogs to teach tricks, as they have a well-developed sense of humor, and this is the kind ol a dog that always wears the white ruf fle and plays clown in dog circuses, and they generally manage to kee}> up a circus wherever thoy are. When men keep dogs it is done eith er from love of sport of some kind in which a dog is indispensable, or from loneliness, or lack of human sympathy, or downright cynicism, and a dog is a quiet, unobtrusive companion, true and faithful, and above all in perfect har mony with all his master's moods with out a jarring note. A woman keeps dogs for different reasons. For sport, if inclined that way; for fashion's sake, to make herself remarkable among the women, as a sort of shield against love-making on the part of her admirers, and as a sort of living object, a cross between a doll and a live baby, on which to expend her exuberant affection and her nat ural llow of endearing terms. A woman finds a dog an excellent foil, and a caress or a slap often turns an em barrassing situation into harmless channels. Wants More Honesty. A negro policeman in a southern city called on the mayor and said: "Yo' honor, things ain't gwine along ter suit me." "What's the matter?" W y, dar ain't ernuff honesty iu dis yero 'munity ter suit mo." It s not a policeman's duty to look for honesty, but for dishonesty. If everybody were honest we might as well disband the force." "Yas. aah, dat'a so, but still I do like ter see er man make some little attempt ter be honorable. Fer in steuce, my 'sperience las' night. I wa'n't treated p'litely den, I ken tell you dat right now." "How were you treated?" "Shameful sail. I wuz oil duty out yonder iu de park, close ter do little lake where its sich er heavy fine fur er pus son to fish in. It must hub been putty nigh midnight when I seed a man pullin' out catfish. I slipped up an nailed degeuerman 'fore he knowed I wuz in de neighborhood. - ' Mussy, how he did beg! He tole me dat he wuz er man o mighty fine fanibly an' dat it would mighty nigh kill his folks ter know dat he had been 'rested fur stealiu' fish. " 'L)at doau make no diffunce wid de law,' savs I. "Den he shifted his tactics. 'Look yere, podner,' says he, 'l'll give you five dollars ef you'll let me off dis time.' Dat made me think er little. 'I kin,' thinks I, 'make five dollars fur de city an' keep down er scanT at de same time.' u ' Giinmy de money,' says I. 'Here,' ho said, handin' me er bill. It s ten—give me five.' I jest had five dollars in my pocket an' I gin it to him an he didn't lose no time in hustlin' erway frum dar. I sauntered on up ter er lamp-post an' thought dat 1 better look at de bill ter see ef it wuz counter feit, an' bless my life, dat triflin' gener man had done gin me or one dollar bill: an' sail, I'se out fo' dollars, an' I wants ter know whut de city gwine ter do erboutit." "The city will take action in the matter." "Thank you, sail. Gwine gin me back my ton dollars, is you ?" "No, going to remove you from the force." "Whut I Jest because I lost fo' dol lars ?" "No, because you disgraced your po sition." " Wa'n't me dat disgraced de position. It wuz dat rascal dat wa'n't honest. Man come lose fo' dollars o' his own money, tryin' ter make five dollars fur de city, an' deu gits bounced. Dar ain't no gratitude in dis country, sail," "Take off that star." "Look yere, of you'll jest let me keop on bein' er policeman you needn't gin me de fo' dollars. You needn't put yourse'f ter no trouble on my er count er tall, an' I neber will mention de fo' dollars." "Take off that star and get out of here!" "Dar it goes. Man tries his bes' ter do right, an' folks comes er liingin' trouble iu his road. Neber seed de like. 1 ain't gwine be so hones' atter dis. Folks dat has any dealin's wid me hab got ter take dar chances from dis time on, I ken tell you dat."— Arkansaw Traveler. Brave Surgeons. The coolest courage in time of war is not always shown by the officer or soldier. The surgeon and ambulance nurse carry on their work of saving life as undismayed iu the midst of shot and shell as the men whose work it is to tako it. An anecdote is often told by the sea faring folk who live on the shores of Buzzard's Bay, of a certain Dr. Eben czer Swift, who wont from among tliem to serve in the Mexican war. He was Surgeon in Gen. Kearney's division un der Gen. Scott through all the battles of the campaign. During the battle of Molino del Rey, he was so busily occupied with the wounded that he did not perceive thai the American lines had fallen back, and that ho was left exposed to a rak ing fire from the enemy. Gen. Worth, passing, ordered him sharply to fall buck, adding: "You uro drawing the fire from Chapul tepec." The busy Doctor glnnced up at the clouds of smoke and dust, and an swered, absently: "In a moment, sir. After another amputation." A similar story is told of three American surgeons who volunteered their services to the Russian army during the war of the Crimea. They soon were disgusted with the poverty and the savage butcheries on both sides; but in every battle they were in the thickest of the fight, dragging out the wounded and uiding thorn, al though they were repeatedly warned to fall back to the surgeons' tents in the rear. During the final battle before Scbas topol, the Russian officers were in censed nt seeing these young fellows busy nt their work iu the most exposed part of the field. An orderly was sent to tliom with an angry message. He galloped up, and, with a volley of oaths, demanded, as from the com manding officer, "what they were there for?" One of tliem, covered with blood, looked up with a smile. "Toll the General." said he "that wa are here to remind the world of civiliz ation in the midst of this brutality." He Was Consoled. A Now-Y'orker who met a Kansas man atone of the hotels the other day heaved a sigh us he said: "I was in your town two years ago, and that piece of property w : est of the railroad station was offered to me for $30,000." "Yes." "I hear that it was sold last year for $75,000." "It was." "What short-sighted people some of of us are. Had 1 bought at $30,000 I could now probably sell for SIOO,OOO. Think of that." "My dear friend, let me console you. This piece of property can be bought to-day for $15,000. The boom has passed."— New York Sun. I'roflts ef Street Beggars. A pinched and gray old woman sat at the corner of Thirty-fourth street and Park avenue the other night grind ing an unmusical music box. Few persons passed the corner, and I said to my companion, a resident of tho neighborhood: "Surely she can't make a living from alms on this cornerV* "Yes, she can," was the reply. "Her predecessor died a few years ago, leav ing behind $5,500 in hard cash, and she had enjoyed a cosy home from her oarnings for many years. Street beg gars in New York have no standing in the eye of the law, I believe, and I should not bo surprised if tho police, who thrive on every form of illegality, exact blood money from tho shiver ing wretches who live upon the bounty of the sentimental."— New York Star. NEW YOUR journalism is at a very* low ebb when it gives columns to soma "King of the Dudeß," as it has done. Yet it oneers at tho "rural" newspaper. Germany's army last year cost $121,- 061.000.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers