WHAT DOES IT MATTER? BT ELLA. WHEELER WILCOX. and glory, place and power. What aro they worth to rae ot you? For the lease of life runa out In an hour, And death stands ready to claim his due Sounding honors or heaps of gold, What are they all when ull is told? A Pain or a pleasure, n smile or a tear— What does It matter what we claim? For wo step from the cradle into the bleiL And a careless world goes on the same. Hours of gladness or hours of sorrow, What does it matter to us to-rnorrow? Truth of lovo Of TOW of friend- Tender caresses or cruel sneers— What do they matter to us in the end? For the brief day dies and the long night uears, Passionate kisses or tears of gall, The grave will open and cover them alk Homeless vagrant, or honored guest, Poor and humble, or rich and greats All aro racked with the world's unrests All must meet with the common Idle from childhood till we are old, What in all when ull is told? A VERY FAST DUEL. BKETCHEU FROM REAL LIFE. May be you have beard of "The Fast est Funeral on Record," and other fast stories, written by fast men; but I'll bet a sixpence to a kid of mush, that you never heard of the fast duel. It occurred ten or twelve years ago— yes, thirteen cf them— when I was a youngster aboard the sloop-of-war Bos ton, in the West Indian Squadron. We had just got in from a cruise up among the Windward Islands, and Ladu't had much fun for some time, foi 'twas iti the hurricane season, aud we bad seen heavy weather enough to sat isfy any old blowliard that ever smell salt water. The very day we came to anchor nl Pensacola, however, we had a God-send in the shape of a fresh caught midship man, who coming from the backwoods of Alabama, had never seen anything higher than a flat-boat, and was as greeu as a prairie colt in harness, and pretty near as wild. His name was flzra Blizzard, and the Commodore or erod him aboard of us, as we had a couple of vacancies, one of Our mess having been shot in a duel, and anothei did worse by fulling in love with an heiress and marrying bor, and resign ing. Mr. Blizzard, therefore was, as I said before, a perfect God-seud. He was soon initiated into the duties of keeping his own watch, a watch for some of the rest of us occasionally; taught how to pay over his mess-money, persuaded out ol a dozen of wine for his "footing," and made the victim of a few harmless tricks; such as having his hammock cut down by the head, when he was asleep in it—being baptized by a sailor, by getting a bucket full of salt watei poured over him when he was sleeping with his mouth open—finding a dead rat or two occasionally in his pockets, or salt instead of sugar in his coffee, etc., all of which he bore so mildly that we began to consider him a regular spoony, and not calculated to become a credit to his mess iu particular or the service in general. To settle the point and determine his quantum of spunk, it was voted that he must be made to fight a duel, and the plot was made up between three of us, that it should be a harmless one, just to Try his spunk. Accordingly Hogan B , one of the best shots iu the squadron, by the way, insulted him in due form, and, much to qur astonishment, was knocked down for his pains. He arose as wrathv as a mad bull, and would have pitched into his opponent on the spot had wo not in terfered, and insisted upon the quarrel being settled according to the "code of honor." Hogan therefore challenged Blizzard, at the same time insisting with us that the fight should be real, aud not in fun, with cork balls as first proposed. But we overruled him, inas much as the insult ho had given was uncalled for, and the youngster declined the writer's volunteered service to act as his second. "Must I light him with pistols?" he asked. "I could wollup tho lite out of him in my own way!" "Gentlemen only use pistols—you struck him, aud of course must give him geutlemanly satisfaction. I hope you are a good shot—he is!" I replied. " I never shot oil a pistol in mv life, but I'm some with a rifle!" "Rifles are not allowed in the code— pistols are the only weapons, and Ho gan has a first-rate pair, has killed two reefers with them already!" I could see that Blizzard didn't like this news, but he tried to look calm, and asked when he would have to fight. I told him ho would have it out that afternoon, as it was bad to let the blood 000 l over such affairs, and accord ingly in an hour afterward wo| man aged to get ashore, with the case of pistols wrapped up out of sight in an old pea-jacket. We immediately went out to the oid Spanish grave-yard, back of the town, to heighten the effect, and as luck would have it, we found a freshly-dug grave, which was probably to be ten anted on the morrow. Blizzard looked at it, and wanted to know what that was for. We told him that the death of one or the other party only could atone for the blow, and that the grave had been prepared for the one that fell, or for both, in case both were killed. The joungter turned a shade paler as he heard this, but still he gave no stronger signs of hacking out. Reaching a little orange grovo near the new-dug grave, we halted, picked out, and measured tho ground. Mvself and the other second now opened the pistol-case, and commenced preparing the weapons. Hogan coolly lighted a cigar, looking as ferocious as a meat axe at his opponent, who nervously watched our movements. "Blast the luck I" 1 exclaimed, pre tending to try the lock of one of the pistols. "The main-spring of the pistol is broken—what shali we do?" "Fight with the other—toss up which shall have the first shot!" growled Ho gan in a fioree tone. "Yes," said his seeond, "that's fair." "No, it ain't! S'pose lie gets the first shot, he'll kill me without my getting a shot at him!" cried Blizzard. "Yes, sure as winking!" I added, "but then if yoa get the first shot you're safe. Trust to luck my boy, you'll stand as good a chance as he!" \ evv reluctantly B. consented, de claring that he had never had any luck, hut to his delight, and to our surprise, he won the first lire. JTS was now more nervous than ever, and as I handed him the pistol loaded very heavily with powder only, his ! hand shook so that ho could hardly hold "If I should miss him, he'll kill nre sure!" he muttered to mo. " Yes," said I, "hut you mustn't miss him. Take good aim. I'll give the word very slow, bore him right through the heart; for you're dead if begets a shot at you." They were placed—tho distance only ten paces, and Hogan stood witli his arms folded, full breast to his _ foe. scowling at him as if he wanted to blast him. "Are you ready, Mr. Blizzard?" I asked. "Yes—but I—don't like to skfltJl at him so, and he standing there without a chance!" "Come—be quick— no trifling, it is my turn next!" said Hogan in a bitter tone. Blizzard's hand trembled more than ever, but his eye flashed, and he an swered : "I'm ready now—l'll see if it's youi turn next!" As I gave the word very slow, he raised the pistol, not as I had showed him, but with both hands, taking sight as he would with a rifle, aud fired. Having held it a little too close to his nose, the recoil of the heavy-loaded weapon nearly knocked him down, and for a moment almost blinded him, drawing the claret in a stream from his nose. But to his utter horror and astonishment the first sight that met his bewildered eyes, was Hogan standing there with his arms folded, a most diabolical smile on his face, aud evi dently untouched. "Oh Lord!" he exclaimed, "how could I have missed him. I had sure head of him I" "You grazed his ear—that was pretty close!" I said byway of a comforter. "Bear a hand and load the pistol—l am hungr}'—want to punish him and go to supper!" cried Hogan, sharply. Poor Blizzard! He looked as though he would sink into the earth—he was pale as a ghost, but he had stopped trembling. He was evidently trying to nerve himself to meet his fate like a man. "Is there anything I can do for yon after you have gone, my friend ?" I asked coollv. "Yes," he replied, hoarsely, "write to j my father and tell him that Ezra Bliz zard died like a man—just as ho told mo to! cut off a look of my hair, (here His voice trembled,) and send it to Mary Neal, in the same letter;poor gal, she'll break her heart for this. That's all— good-by, Buntline." "Good-by, Blizzard, I am sorry for you, but it can't be helped," I replied, putting my handkorchief up to my face as if to hide my tears, but really to con ceal the laugh that was trying to break adrift in spite of my efforts to look serious. "Give the word slow!" said Hogan fiercely. " The devil is in his eyes—he'll kill him sure!" I muttered, just loud enough for Blizzard to hear me. I could sen the poor fellow begin to tremble. "Are you ready?" "No," said Hogan, "wait a moment till I finish this cigar." Blizzard's tremor increased every mo ment—suspense was too severe. I added to his agony by again remarking in an undertone, that I never saw Ho- I gan so deliberate and murderous. At last Hogan said he was ready— and again said, "Give the word slow, now!" "By heavens, I can't stand this, it's murder!" I cried, as if dreadfully agi tated. "Bun, Blizzard, run!" My earnest cry, added to what he had already endured, decided poor Bliz zard, and off he started like a wounded buck. "Stop—stoj) till I shoot 1" yelled Ho gan. "Stop, stop till you aro killed!" yelled his second. "Go it, Blizzard!" I shouted, at the same moment seizing a half rotten orange from the ground and hurling it witli all the force I could after him. The orange struck him plum upon that portion of his body named by phil osophers as the seat of honor, bursting and deluging him with its juice at the very instant that Hogan fired his pistol. I'oor Blizzard heard the shot, felt the orange, and tumbled forward flat on his face, close beside the now-made grave. "Are you killed?" I cried, rushing up and kneeling by his side. "Oh Lord- oh Lord!" he groaned— "dead—shot in the back, too! Oh Lord—tumble me into the grave—l don't care, only I am shot in the back!" "May he—l can stop the blood!" "No, don't try, I don't want to live. I'm shot in the back!" lie groaned. "Don't let Mary or father hear of it bury me as soon as I'm cold!" "Don't the wound hurt you?" "No—no, nothing hurts me but being shot in the back. What did you tell me to run for? it was all your fault. I was ready to die like a man." I could hold in no longer! I burst into a yell of laughter, and lifted up my principal to his feet. Ilogan and his second came up and the eat was let out of the bag—everything was explained. About the maddest person that I think I ever saw in my life, was that same Ezra Blizzard just at that time. Ho was utterly wolfish. He wanted to figlit all three of us on the spot one after another, and nothing but our as surance that we were satisfied that lie was true to the back-bone, would satisfy him. He afterward became a smart man and a popular officer, and in real serv ice by my side in the swamps of Florida, proved himself a trump card, and, though wounded on two occasions, ! lie was never "shot in the back," except in that "Fast Duel." Concorning Memory. Memory is found in all healthy states of the brain, and consists of a revival i in the mind of a past condition or act,! says the New York Ledger. It is not j enough that the original impression be renewed on thelbrain and comprehended; | it must lio registered, so as to produce j a permanent modification of brain structure or action, otherwise it passes from the mind and can only be vaguely recalled. A good memory depends on various considerations; one is healthy brain-structure, another is nutrition, and a third is training and culture. The j young remember more easily ! than the old. Their brains are active, and there is an enormous amount of new healthy blood coursing through them at a rapid rate, and nutrition is active. Fatigue is fatal to good memory—it is then that nutri tion languishes; but rest restores a healthful condition, and then the power of memory comes back again. As old age comes on nutrition is less perfect, j and the cells of the brain in which memory takes place bocome tilled up with debris of decay, become yellow, and actually lose tlioir organized struct ure, and aro no longer capable of ac tion A Hai-,1 Name Anyway; Mr. Blobson—Didn't I hear you call ing one of your little playmates hard names just now, Johnny? Johnny Dumpsey (who is twice as erudite as his father) —Perhaps you did, pa. I don't see how I could very well help it. His name is Peter Btone Burlington Free Press. 21I0ST OF LONE ItOCK. A Grandfather's Story. BT CLARA M. HOWARD. Kept by good old 'Zekit'l Parr, Wag one, a sturdy feller, Who often kern tnet way On hie way tew Noo York City With loads of grain, and bay. 1 kin 800 him now before me, As he stood thet stormy night Sippin' at his glass o' cider, In the firelight, warm and bright. His hair wua brown an' wavy, His oyos an honest blue ; His Binilo wus like a woman's, An' his natur' brave an' true. •Well, boys," settin' down his eropt'y glass, •What's the news about the keutry? Bos the woddin' kum to pasH? Fer you know I'm quite a stranger, 'Tis six months or more since we bast gathered here together, In this pleasant hostelry!" Then poured out a flood of gossip, JeHt. and story went the rounds Till the smoky oaken rafters F.choed back the merry sounds. All at oucc a silent youngster, Who'd bin slttin' like a post, Cried out, "Hay, you, mister! Hov you beam about the ghost?" Then a silence foil upon them, While the wind howled long and wild, An' the bravest man among them Grew as timid aa a child. "I'LL PASS LONE ROCK AT MIDNIGHT." An' they drew together closer. Hound the backlog's cheerful blaze, While Tom. the tall young teamster, Btarcd about him in amaze. Ho smiled at their looks of terror, And cried, "What do you mean? What tale is this yer tellin'? Whero may the ghost be seen?" "Ah, Tom, you doubt the story!" Cried Zeke, the worthy host; "Hut pass Ixmc Hock at midnight, An' you'll surely 800 the ghost I" "Come, tell me all about it 1 What lias his ghost ship done? Who's playin' tricks upon you, Jest to 800 you brave men run ?" "There's never a trick about it Zeke gravely shook his head, " 'Tis some poor, lone, lost sperit Can't rest easy 'iiiong the dead! "And you needn't talk of courage, Fer the bravest man around Couldn't face thet tall white flgger, An* before it stand his ground I" Then a peal of merry laughter Hang throughout the oaken bar, Which made his listeners shudder, And offended landlord Purr. J "I'll tell you what, good Zekiel, | I'm comfn' back next week ; | I'll pass Lone Hock at midnight, An' tho ghost's acquaintance seek J" Then spake again tho silent youngster, "Oh, that will bo great fun; For, despite his boasted courage. We shell HOC this brave man run 1" Hut Tom, tho merry tenmster, With his spirit undismayed. Vowed that be it man or devil, They should 800 tho specter laid. On tho banks of Susquehanna, Where the river makes a bend, And tho darksome forest branches •Cross tho water shadows send, J "CAUSED HIS MANI.T FLEBH TO CREEP." , Stands tho rock, on which, 'tis rumored, I A tall figure, clothed iu white, j May be soon to stand and beckon, j In the watches of tho night. 'Tis a lonely place in summer, With tho sunlight breaking through The tall pines clustered round it, Hhuttin' out tho landward view ; ' Hut at night 'tis dark and gruesome, E'en tho bravest shun the spot ; .Just tho place for ghostly revel, Or to hatch tome devil's plot. ! 'Tis the witching hour of midnight— j Diamond-decked tho wintry skies— I The lonely road along tho river ; In the deepest shadow lies. ; An' a stillness, deep an' solemn j As tho hush of death is there. Tho snow lies white, untrodden, j Have for foot of doer or bear." Hut the silence aoou 1b broken By the HIOW ami measured triad Or four big, brown-eyed oxen. Fastened to the teamster's HlO<l. It is Tom, tho brave young fellow, Who has vowed the ghost to lay, ; And as his patient oxen I Hlowly plod the frozen way, I With wondoring eyos ho scans the summit Of Lone Hock's snowy crest— Yes, thero stan/.s the tall white flgger, Object of their eager quest. He gazes but a moment on it, Then leaps aoftly to the ground, Kcalcs t lie reck, and stands beside it, Turns the flgger slowly round. "Ah!" cries he, "at last I have you, And no moic tricks you'll play On the teamsters. O, the cowards I" An 1 ho Urovi the Hhoet away. : nut tne signt mat met nis vision Caused his manly flesh to creep— j Not a ghost, nor yot a trickster, But a maidon, fast asloop! For a minnlt poor Tom trembled. Half inclined to leave tho field ; Hi', who fearoil no man nor dovil— All his courage seemed to yield Hefore this wliite-robeil girlish flgger, Witli her dark, ilishevolod hair; With her midnight eyes wide opon, And her purty foot all bare. Calling hack his recreant courago, ' Down tho snowy rocks ho sped, ■ Clasping oloso the lovely spoctor, Plftcen nor safely in tho sled ; Wrapped her well iu robes and blankets— Fer the night was bitter cold— j Walked beside tho patient oxen, Like a stalwart knight of olu, | Hopin' he might reach tho tavorn Ere the aLonnia' girl awoke. But the motion must lie? roused her, -Fer she soon sat up an' apoke. "Where am I? O. where am I?" An' she giv' a frightened scream. "Who brings me here at midnight I Or la It but a dreadful dream?" ■TO THI: BOUND <>r PANOXNO fhkt." When he reachod old Halfway Tavern, Callin' loiullv to mine host, "I've paasori Lone Rock at midnight, And I've surely caught the ghost! Bo come forth, good landlord Zokiel, Do bo quick, and bring your wife, Hero's a ghost who needs her tentlon, Would you save tho critter's life?" Once again from top to bottom Halfway Tavern's lighted up. While old Zeko and all his helpers Pass around tho foamiu' cup; Fer a weddiu' Is in progress 'An* there Is no lack of cheer. Tom's tho groom—the ghost's beside him, But he snows no sign of fear. The inn 1b full of strangers, Who hev couio from miles around, To see tho fun and heerthe story How the purty brido was found. The oaken raftors echo To the sound of dancing feet; Tom clasps close the lovely specter, "Never yet was bride so sweet!" Thus ho whispers, "Annie, darling, .Tust one year ugo to-night Kince, upon tho snowy summit Of Lone ltock's dizzy height, I lost my heart, but gained a treasure Far more precious than my life— Ah ! you little thought, good Zekiel, '1 should make your 'ghost' my wifel" Now, Tom's children's children— A goodly number he can boast— .Listen while their graudsire tolls them How ho caught tho purty ghost; Grandma, listens, too, intently, While tho old-time dimples peep, As she adds, "All, yes, my darlings, 'Twas the last time I walked in my sleep I" HiitviiY, Wis. Horse Moat for Kuting;. Physically it may be distinguished from beef or mutton by its appearanco, says the Nineteenth Century. It is coarser in the grain than beef. In this respect it resembles bull beef more than any other. It is darker in color and looks more moist than beef. It has a peculiar smell and a peculiar sweetness of taste. Its flavor is gener ally considered to be half way between the flavors of beef and gamo. It is something like the flavor of hare. One reason why horse flosh is, as a rule, darker in color than beef, is that horses which are poleaxed or which have died from injury, disease or old age are not properly bled and dressed by tho slaughterer. It is, however, by its fat that horse flesh is most easily distin guished. The fat of horse flesh is not generally mixed with the lean. It is yellow in color. It looks more moist than the fat of beef. It soon melts and soon becomes rancid. Consequently, unless a rapid sale is effected or the ifat removed, an advance price must be charged in order to secure the butcher from loss on unsold meat. Lastly, horse flesh can bo distin guished from beef by its chemical characteristics, and it is in this way 'that it may be recognized when mixed with other substances. Who can tell, except the chemist, what are the com ponent parts of a sausage, polony or isaveloy? Or who can toll by taste •what these parts are? We do not ijudge by tasto, we judge by flavor, and in the making of flavor—to use Sam Weller's phrase—"it's the seasoning as does it." Ills FlCure Killed Him. One day a man came over to our mine, which was about seven milos from Virginia City, and told us that a photographer had just opened up in town, says an old miner. Next day being Saturday, a lot of us knocked off at noon and went up to have our tintypes taken. Among the crowd was old Bill Lawson, who was the homeliest man you ever set eyes on. He was not only lop-shouldered and hump-backed, but a bear had clawed his face and a fighter had bitten his nose and blinded him in one eye. It was a matter of remark that his looks would scare a panther, and wo had known of men coming six miles to look at him; but, as the old man would never look into a glass, he couldn't realize how homely ho really was. He might never have realized it had lie not concluded to sit for a great big I tintype—the largest the artist could j make. When a finished picture was j handed him he stared at it in blank i surprise; then he scratched his head and rubbed his good eye, and looked again. Then lie came over to us and asked in a faltering voice: "Bards, who is this chap in the pio tur'?*' "That's you, Bill." "Looks like me?" "Exactly." "Can't be no one else?" "No." "I'm as homely as that, am I?" "Worse, if anything." "You don't say! Look a-hyar, boys, how long liev you known this?" "Two years." "And never let on! Well, that was white of you and no mistake. Can't be any other feller, can it ?" "No." "That's my mug—my blinker, my nose, my mouth and chin?" "Yes." "That's enuff. Good-by, boys." "But where are you going ?" "Back to camp. See you later." But ho never did. He started for camp alone, and at the lialf-wav spot he sat down on a >ock and suicided by putting a bullet into his head. On a flat stone lay the tintype, and with a piece ofcla.v ho had written on the stone: "Gone to get a decent-looking mug." Knew What Hurt Most. Little Nan, of four summers, consid ering it her duty to entertain a ladv who is waiting for mamma, enters into conversation. Nan—Have you got any little girls? The caller—Yes, I have two. Nan—D-do you ever have to whip 'em ? The caller—l'm afraid I have to sometimes. Nan —What do you whip 'em with ? The caller (amused) Oh, when i they've been very naughty I take my | slipper. Nan (mostfeelingly as mamma en ters) —Y-yo-you ought to use a hair brush ; my mamma does, and it hurts j awfully. THE WORLD OF WOMEN. ACOLDEN GRIST FOR OUR FAIR HEADERS Inartistic Women—Beauty of Our Girls— The Women of the Future—lCules for n Clear Skin— Women ait Physicians—A Girl's Athletic Costume. With the thought of common-sense in dress manifest all round us, a girl's cos tume for athletic sports can be losse, and still lady-like. A divided skirt be low, a wide, light-weight skirt over ifc, reaching just below the ankles, and a loose blouse, would be a|Fl that prac ticability would deniaud.— Ellen Le Garde, in Ladies' Home Journal. Inartistic Women. "Women make strange mistakes in the artistics—to coin a word—of dress," says an artist, "but one of the Btrangost is the way in which they treat their necks when wearing a low corsage. Near ly every woman believes that a black velvet Viand heightens the beauty of her neck. Especially if it be long and slender, does she insist upon putting black velvet about it. And thus she makes it look even longer and slenderer. The effect of black close up to the neck and face is always to make them look thin. A very stout woman, with a neck too plump, may employ the black hand with advantage, but the thin woman should wear a light ribbon, white or blue, or a string of pearls or of gold beads, if she wants to produce the jileasantest effect." Kulos for a Clear Skin. You want to keep your skin nice all summer? Well, then, here are some rules for you. Don't bathe in hard water, soften it with a few drops of ammonia, or a little borax. Don't bathe your face while it is very warm, and never use very cold water for it. Don't wash your face when you are traveling, unless it is with a little alcohol aud water, or a little vaseline. Don't try to remove dust with cold water; give your face a hot bath, using pleuty of good soap, then give it a thorough rinsing with water that has had the chill taken off of it. Don't rub your face with a coarse towel; just remember it is not made of cast-iron, and treat it as you would the finest porcelain—gently and delicately. Don't use a sponge, or liuen rag for your face; choose instead a llanuel one. Don't believe jou can get rid of •wrinkles by tilling in the crevices with powder. Instead give your face a Kussian bath every night; that is, to bathe it with water so hot that you wonder how you can stand it, and then, a minute after, with cold water that will make it glow with warmth; dry it with a soft towel and go to bed, and you ought to sleep like a babv while your skin is growing firmer and coming from out of the wrinkles, and you are rest ing.—Ladies' Home Journal. llouuty of Our Girltt. The beauty of American girls is a much-discussed question. It is said they have no distinct points, but it seems to me that any one who has traveled must easily have settled upon the salient points which go to make up the beauty of an American girl, says a writer in the Illustrated American. A general delicacy of outline as well as coloring are demanded. A woman with very large eyes and no other charms is never rated as a beauty here. When n woman is said to bo beautiful in America it means that she has a face molded in delicate lines, features that are thoroughly harmonious, a figure which is neither pronouncedly athletic nor too plump, and small hands and feet. in England if a woman is six feet two, and broad across the shoulders, she is invariably spoken ol in the society paper as beautiful,though her feet may out-class the iron-clad and her knuckles stretch wildly abroad. In Italy and Spain a pair of big expressive eyes are enough, but in America a thoroughly balanced series of attractions must be shown to win the title. American girls form a lofty, gay, intrepid and dashing army, whose audacity should be feminine. They have all of the athletic look of the Engliglish woman, without the ill fitting gloves and ponderous boots. | The assumption of Berni-masculinc j attire robs them of their greatest charm. . Womanliness is still the most attractive quality of woman. Women us Pliyslelam. Every day brings news of the ad vancement of women, say the Boston Traveler. Slowly but surely they arc working their way into the various pro fessions and trades and approaching that ideal :>f equity in work with men which the progressive woman has always per sistently cherished. The appointment of Miss Belle Smith—who, by the way is said to ho only 23 years old—as resi dent physician of the Woman's Prison at Sherborn, a position of great resnon sibility, is another evidence of the fact that in this country women are advanc ing, and advancing rapidly. In this connection it is interesting to note the increasing number of women who are adopting the profession of medicine. Not many years ago the feeling pre vailed among the unthinking people that women liul no right to act as physicians; that by so doing they were guilty, not only of impertiuent i ntrusion upon the execlusive province of the male prac titioners, but of indelicacy and unwo manliness as well. It seems strange that this prejudice should have been entertained, for from time immemorial women have been regarded as ideal nurses. Is it a sign of the advance ment or of the retrogression of men that while women are entering the mascu line profession of medicine men are adopting the feminine work of nursing? And the dilTorence between the func tions of a nurse and phvsician is by no means a one, the physician's duties being, on the whole, rather more deli cate than those of the nurse. Another consideration which favors the admission of women to medical practice, and which, it would seem, ought to have outweighed all consider tions against it, is the face that they afo peculiarly fitted to treat in certain cases the members of their own sex, aud that [hey are gifted with a certain feminine intuition (a quality, strange as it may eeem, used by Mr. Grant Allen as an argument against the higher education of women) which would be invaluable to them in their diagnoses of those ner vous diseases which are rapidly increas ing with the advance of our civiliza tion, the pressure of the competition for existence, and the ever-growing de mands which are mado upon the facul* ties of the mind. There is no doubfc I hat in a few years women, instead 4 f being admitted to tlie practice of medi- I , cine on sufferance, will hold legtimate and honorable places in this most im portant and arduous profession. The Woman of the Future. Combination among skilled women workers, says the English Illustrated , Magazine, is increasing every day, | though slowly, for women are naturally \ conservative, and they do not readily accept the principle of unionism. They I have, many of them, sufferid sorely ' from the effect of strikes, and though they realize that prolonged combina tion, if carried out consistently, must improve their position and in the long run raise their wages, never lose sight of the long period during which their employment must cease till their ulti mate demands are conceded. Added to which they do not forget the bitter feelings aroused—the breach between employer and servant, and above all, that in a struggle such as a long strike must always he, it is oniy the strong who win; the weak ones go to the wall. All these things make women shy and slow to join a trade union, while the introduction of foreign labor in Eng land and the increasing demand on ac oount of their cheapness, for foreign goods have made a much deeper im pression on their minds than is gener ally admitted. The skilled woman worker has, however, the security of knowing that she can take up her stand with a greater chance of success, for with the best womon workers, as with the men, the supply is scarcely in ex cess of the demand. And were tech nical instruction given to women a good deal of the better class work they can not do would be carried out in England instead of being executed by French women who are trained for it in many technical schools which exist for women in France. In Scotland the question has been warmly espoused by the women who work in Glasgow and Dundee, and the prospect of combining for the unskilled as well as the skilled workers is very much more promising than in England. Scotch women are more independent and self-reliant, added to which, though the pay is bad, their surroundings are less deteriorating than those of the London women, and their dwellings are better and rents are lower. The rapid increase of the population and the influx of people from the coun try to the large towns makes the prob lem of how to deal with unskilled fe male labor every year more difficult. The education hitherto given to women in England is purely intellectual, and when a girl lias passed the standard she at once goes into the ranks of the unskilled. If she can give time she may be apprenticed and learn a trade, but the number of girls who can afford to do that are getting fewer every day. The few shillings a girl can earn at once is too important an addition to the family incomo to be rejected, and as the majority of them marry while prac tically children, neither the necessity of being apprenticed nor of joining a union appeals to them. DarkueHH Had No Terrors for Theiu. Miss Giddimiss was angry. Mr. Gettetliere had actually attempted to kiss her and had known her only twenty-four hours. "How dare you?" she exclaimed. "Why, I have known gentlemen for years who never presumed even to press my hand." "All!" returned Mr. Gettetliere, "but they could not have been so sus ceptible to beauty as I." The compliment was like a stream of water on the blaze. Miss Giddi miss came very near smiling. M fear you are too susceptible," she sau\ "I cannot trust myself with you.' You know mamma and papa are both out this evening, and since you have been so bold I'm really afraid of you. You won't insist on staying if I ask you to go, will you, Mr. Gette tliere V" "I certainly would not be so rude," he returned. "I knew you would not," Miss Giddi miss added; "and so lam going to ask you Do you know that lamp is slowly but surely going out? Those stupid servants must have forgot to till it." Thus she interrupted herself. "You were going to ask me ?" suggested Mr. Gettetliere. "Oh, yes. It would never do for us ! to be left here together in the dark. I I was going to ask you to say good-niglit | to mo." j "But T may stop until the last drop of oil is burned, may I not?" Miss Giddiniiss hesitated. "Well," she said, with a half smile, "if you promise to behave yourself. I will permit it. I'm sure it won't be for long. How warm the room has grown!" "May I raise a window!" "Thank you. I wish you would." The lamp, which was a high one, stood between one of the windows and the door. It was this window that Mr. Gettethere raised. No sooner was it up than a strong i draught swept across the apartment and carried the lamplight with it. The room was enveloped in darkness. Miss Giddimiss sprang to her feet. "Oh, Mr. Gettethere!"she exclaimed, "have you a match? Dore-liglit it. I am sure there is some oil left." Mr. Gettethere had no match, but he, too, was sure there was some oil left. Until that oil was exhausted ho i had been granted the privilege of re i maining. Accordingly, he sat dowu beside j Miss Giddimiss and informed her that he rather enjoyed a dark room. Two hours later there was a sound of a key in the front door. "Oh, Jack! Jack!" It was Miss Giddimiss who spoke, and though she vthispered the words, Mr. Gettethere realized that she was very much alarmed. "Light the lamp! Light the lamp!" she repeated, nervously. "It is papa and mamma returning. If we are found in the dark wo are lost." "But you know I have no matches," returned Mr. Gettethere. "Oh, how stupid you are! There are dozens in that little vase on tho bottom slielf of the cabinet."— Town Topics. A LITTLE railway just opened be tween Lynton and Lynmouth, in En ! gland, has the steepest incline in the 1 world—a uniform gradient of 1 in i lj. Tho line is only 000 feet long, and was built to give passage over a : cliff nearly 500 feet high separating the ; two places. Water is brought from a distance of a mile to the summit of the cliff, and is drawn from the reservoir to move the cars, two of which are con nected together by a wire cable and sufficient water-load applied to tho descending one to drag the other up the incline. I . FOLLY AS IT FLIES. A MOUTH Organ—a dental newpaper. A TWO-FOOT rule—Stand on your own pins. SOMK who pose as self-made men re lieve their Creator of a great responsi bility. THAT was a mighty strong Irishman who, with a single wheelbarrow, went toJWheeling, West Virginia. THEiudustrious washerwoman always has the satisfaction of knowing that she is near the clothes of her work. "My wife is just crazy over baseball, s She goes every day to see the game." "So does mine, and not only that, she wears fowl tips on her hat every time she goes." SOME ono save that the "happiest looking man is the one who is not bur deued with wealth." He evidently did not form his opinion from seeing a friend returning from the races. KITTY —How far have you got on your graduation essay? Nellie—Oh, I haven't begun to think about writing it yet. Why, I haven't even selected the color of ribbon to tie it with. TRAVIS— Say, De Smith, did you know it had leaked out that Von Mouk ishein is a mau of rank in his own coun try? De Smith—No! But I might have gnssed it from his cigars. FOOQ —I went to hear Gusherleigh preach last Sunday. Brown —Why, I thought you hated to hear him. Fogg —So I do; but it was his farewell ser mon. I went out of pure gratitude. A SLIGHT Error.—Se here, fraud, hand over that ceut I just put in your hat— you're a swindler—you have as good eyes as I have. "Why, excuse me, sir; I got the wrong sign to-day. It oughter be 'Deaf and Dumb.'" CENSUS Enumerator—Well, I have finished a big day's work, and 1 am tired. His Wife—l'm so sorry I can't help you. Now, sit down, dear, and tell me all lyou found out about onr neighbors. YOUNG Dr. Freshfield—And why won't you let me feel your pulse, Miss Dollie? Miss Dollie —Well, you may, but I shall stick out my tongue at the same time to show that your action is strictly professional. "I WOULDN'T run away with any girl, I remember going boldly up to the old man and asking him for his daughter. He told me to go to Hades." "Anddid you go?" "Well,"he mused,hesitatingly and reflectively, "I married the girl. GBEAT Editor—l see it stated that the new electrical chair will not kill. Detail a reporter to try it. If he escapes it will make the biggest kind of a sen sation. City Editor—But what shall I do if it does kill ? Great Editor—Get a new reporter. DEFRAUDING the Mails —Gaggam— Are you going to post that letter, Pat? Pat—Yis. Gaggam—Well, why don't you put a stamp on it? Pat—Whist? Oi'm goin' teh thry teh slip it in the postoftice without anyone seein' me. Mits. DE FIRM—I tremble to think of our daughter marrying that young man. Why, he orders his mother and sister around as if they were slaves. Mr. De Firm—Don't worry, my dear. He won't order our daughter around more than once. She takes after you. ANXIOUS Mother—And so you and your husband have a great many differ ences? Weeping Daughter—No, only one; but that keeps us nagging and quarreling and fighting from one week's end to the other—boo, hoo, boo 1 " Only one? What is it?" "We differ on re ligion. "WHERE do we find the laughing jackass, professor?" asked the fresh mau, and the class tittered. "Usually iu Australia," replied the venerable in structor. "I think, however, that if I had a gun with me, loaded with buck shot, I could bring down about two dozen right in this room. What to Do with tho Hands. "Few people are thoroughly at ease about the disposition of their hands in company," said a teacher of the art of gesture. "And yet there is a very simple thing that muy be done to get rid of that disagreeable consciousness of the members which give rise to the difficulty. You see, tho hands are far more highly educated in this age of me chanical civilization than they have ever been before. It may also be said that the braiu has found its way to the end of the fingers—that these extremi ties have come to possess an inherent intelligence. For this reason the at tention is so fixed by habit upon the hands that they feel awkward, just as any other part of the body will do if you think particularly about it. "In order to be graceful iu the dis posal of your hands, it is only neces sary to get rid of consciousness about them, and you may accomplish this to a surprising extent by a very simple gymnastic process. Let them haug limplv and wring them as violently as possible for five miuutes, say. This will render them unconscious to a great extent, so that you will not be dis turbed for some time after by excess of feeling in them. Consequently, while the effect lasts, you will find yourself at ease about your hands and will have no trouble about their manage ment. "You will be astonished, if you try it, to find out how admirably it works. I have recommended it to hundreds of people, and thev have uniformly found it successful. Do it once every day for a month, and you will discover that by mere practice of the habit, your em barrassment in this regard has been greatly diminished. The time to per form the operation, obviously, is just before you enter a room full of com pany, though it will not do very woll to be found wringing your hands in the vestibule of a house to which you have been invited, or engaged in what may appear to be a frantic exhibition of grief in the reception room," A (iood M it nugor. A bare-headed woman, with a faded and ragged dress, solicited alms the other evening of a gentleman who was crossing the Citv Hall I'ark. Ho came to a halt nud asked: "Is it for drink V" "No, sir; it's for food." j "But I don't know how you live. 1 have to practice economy in order to have money in my pocket. You may be recklessly extravagant for all I jknow. How much money have you I spent to-day?" I "Well, sir, I've made 7 cents run five jof us on cold potatoes so far; and if I can get ■'! more we'll top off with bread ; and water before we go to bed. Might I leave out the bread, sir, if I can find a bit of tar somewhere to thicken up the water and deceive tho children. Can you draw it any finer than that, sir?" The man held out a dime as he passed by.— New York Sun.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers