WATTING FOR WINTER.
Winter mcy come or Winter may fruit,
We're ready when vor ho makes his round;
There's n thatch on the roof and a latch on
the gate.
There's fodder enough
And good housed stuff,
And fuel both dry and sound.
My old wife and I, we are not to be tricked.
Or flustered or hurried when Winter ur
Tie crops are all stored and the fruit is oil
picked,
And bacon is smoking
And who would be croaking
With honey in all the hives.'
'1 lien let it be early or let it he late,
We can give him a welcome whenever li<
Aud should he decide until summer to wait,
Like our dear city cousins
Who come here by dozens
To sample our peaches and plums,—
Why then, I suppose we should give him a
gr''P.
And a jolly round welcome, since that is
our way;
And. spite of his frost with its troublesome
"nip,"
T should show him at leisure
Our crops for his pleasure,
And mother would urge hiiu to stay.
—(lda W. Benlmm, in Youth's Companion
OLLIE HEDDER.
UY ALICE M'OOWAX.
When I rode up onto Emory Heights,
iverlookmg Harriman, Tcnn., the
wrly twilight was almost upon me, but I
zould sec, in softened outline, the
curves of the beautiful Emory winding be
low me, the rolling hills beyond.and the
mountains, silent, watchful, and slum
berous purple ranged around, while in
\hc middle ground peeped out the roofs
of Harriman itself.
When I was there, some two years ago,
the only beacon that lit me to the valley
was the cheerful beam from a single
farmhouse, the Jackson homestead,
which was afterward my stopping place.
Now, as the dusk deepened, the
seven-months-old city began to wink
with electric light 3.
I'hebe v.as 44 born and raised " far up I
the mountains, aud is hopelessly rustic '
ftud country bred, never having seen
more than a dozen houses together in
licr life, and regarding a group of ten
people as no Jess than a riot. She looked
with pathetic dismay at this appalling ,
and unnatural illumination. If the
skies had not fallen, plainly the moon
and a lurgc number of the stars had; and
the latter objected strenuously to going j
down among the planets.
I went to a real, sure-enough hotel,
where I felt very wayworn and dilapi
dated, and I put Phebe in a genuine
livery stable, where so far from sharing
my diffidence, she ate her oats and took
her rubbing with a contemptuously in
diffcrcut air, which a straggling parvc
nue would have envied, and was saucy
and arrogant as possible with the sleek
city-bred horses among whom she found
herself.
One member of the Jackson house
hold in whom I had come to feel a
warm, almost tender interest during my
previous visit was Olmadclla—Ollic for
short—a girl of about fifteen, a pleasant,
rouud-faeed little thing, with big blue
6yes and a sort of confiding, boyish,
manner, entirely different from the
stolid lumpisliness or untamable shyness
of the ordinary Tennessee cracker. She
was the little maid of all work, the only
"help" in the house, very faithful and
efficient help too, and, withal, the jol
liest little soul in the world ; which fact,
in the face of her story as told by Mrs.
Jackson, was to me particularly touch
"'ficr parents were poor country peo
ple. There was, of course, a big family,
one girl older than Ollie, and younger
children ad libitum, the house never be
ing without a poor, little, dirty baby,
that had to be carried by its mother out
into the lield, and laid under a tree or
hedge, while she hoed or dug potatoes,
or tended corn, for this was the only
kiud of work in which Mrs. Redder was
skilled. The old man was trifling and
worthless beyond expression; he occa
sionally did a little tinkering work, or
a little peddling of chickens, eggs and
butter for some farmer. The oldest girl,
Lomcla, familiarly Lomy, was a line
looking, good-natured creature, in ap
pearance and disposition much like her
lather. She usually did such poor cook
ing as was done, and worked beside her
mother in the field when they could get
a day's work to do.
Iler people were not, I suppose, abso
lutely cruel or unkind to Ollic, as they
regarded it; but like nearly all their sort,
when they found that she was smart and
capable and could earn good wages, they
regarded her as a valuable work animal,
unci her earnings ai their rightful due.
When she had been with Mrs. Jackson
two or three mouths, they having re
ceived small sums along as their needs
demanded, they came and applied for
every cent due her up to date, and as
much more as her employe! was willing
to advance. They were in high feather.
Lomy was going to be married to an
idle, worthless fellow. Ollie knew what
* scoundrel the fellow was, and that
nothing but misery for all concerned
could result from such a marriage, but
she could do nothing in the matter, and
dutifully handed out the money. Taw
dry finery was bought, and eggs, butter
aud sugar procured, from which the ex-
pectant bride constructed cakes. The
went into the oven freighted with fond
hopes and deadly possibilities, raised
like a presidential boom, but collapsed
as entirely as the same in an oIT year,
and came out a sallow, sad, gluey, sub
stance that to any civilized anatomy
would have only been less deadly than
well directed bullets.
I hey had their wedding, they gorged
themselves on these and similar dainties
and lived, bccaus they were poor and
wretched, and had nothing to hope for
and the world did not need them.
When the last baby was born the/sent
again for ull of Ollie's money with which
to buy food, clothingand provisions, and
Ollic gave all willingly; her kind, little
heart was especially tender and pit if u
to the poor little ones.
On the morning after my second ar
rival in Harriman I set out for Mrs.
Jackson's. I found the old farm-house I
upon a broad, new street, its pastures
and meadows cut into town lots, its
aucicnt dignity pertly elbowed by smart,
new structuccs.
Mrs. Jackson was quite unchanged, j
natural, motherly self among her met-'
amorphosed surroundings. As soon as
our first greetings were over I asked for j
Ollic.
"Ollie? I do wish you'd been here last;
Monday?" sa d she.
41 Why, what happened Monday?" I in '
quired.
"Well, I won't tell you know, that
would be beginning at the wrond end.
"You remember what a time the child
had with that shiftless family of hers;
well, shortly after you were here before,
she saved enough outside of their con
stant demands to buy two young eows
for them. She was greatly delighted
that now they could have butter and
milk for the little ones. But a week or
so after, she came back from a visit home
: crying bitterly; nu 1, when 1 questioned
her, she told me with many Icmenta
tions, how the old man had traded off
Daisy for a blind Texas pony, ami the
very next day the owner of the horse,
from whom it had been stolen, appeared
and took it.
"'An' now he says he's goiu' to beef
Rosy, 1 she said with another burst of
tears. 'He says he guesses they'll have
one good bait of fresh meat, anyhow!
She ain't givin' much; they don't feed
I her none, an' they only hunt her up an'
| milk her when they want some milk.'
| Well, it was one th'ng or another till I
began to think the poor child would
have to go away, when they suddenly
I moderated their requisition to such an
i extent that in seven months she had in
I her hands upward of SSO. I wondered
1 at this, but soon came upon the explan- j
at ion.
I "Huldy, our washwoman, you know,
is a thrifty soul, and she has been for j
years saving money to buy a bit of land. I
(She makes herself a trifle unpopular
! among the neighbors by bragging of this ,
a little, and posing as a capitalist; and j
| she told me one morning, with an in
! credulous snort, that the Heddcrs had
said to her as she came by that they were
' going to buy land, too; they were saving
| all of Ollie's money to buy with,
i "I said nothing of this to Ollie, but
j explained to her what would be the nec
essary arrangements in such a case, had
Mr. Jackson to get himself appointed
I her guardian, and buy tlio land—a nice
! little piece of six acres down here on the
j Emory—for her, from Mr. James. It
was for the family; they were to live on
! it, but she wanted it so the old man
j couldn't trade it away or be cheated out
of it, and I was determined she should
I have it so.
j "Rut when they heard of it they were
| furious. They came raving over and ,
i ordered Ollie home. I told her sin need
| not go unless she wished; but she is a i
j gentle creature you know and she went.
They carried on shamefully; the old man
swearing and threatening aud Mrs. lied- ,
der berating and abusing. They would |
I sue Mr. James, they said, for dealing
with a minor, and they made the child
so miserable she Anally gave up, and
agreed to do anything they wanted. She
; met Mr. Jackson over at Squire Run ■
combe's office and they fixed up a new j
deed in Mr. Ileddcr's name, but Mrs. J
Jackson insisted on having some rcstric- j
tions on the selling of it included in the
paper.
"Ollie took it home, pitiful and dis
couraged, but thinking now there would
at least he peace.
"The next day she came here about
noon the most miserable-looking creature
: you ever saw. She had tasted nothing J
' since the day before, and had cried pretty j
much all the time, till her round, j
pink face was haggard and white, and
her big blue eyes were red and swollen, j
I made her a cup of coffee and got her !
fixed up a little, and she told me how ;
things were.
4 When she took the deed home her
mother met her and demanded to know |
j what she had done.
! 44 'l've had the deed made out to you,' i
I said Ollic; 'here it is.'
I 44 ' What does it say, then; read it,'!
| said the woman. Ollie read it, and the j
1 moment the mother caught the first hint
of a restriction she snatched it from her
hand and screamed, 4 That's the kin' o' !
• paper ye got me, is it? Well, do you!
know what I do with such a paper? I'll j
: show ye 1 That's what 1 and
j she dashed it in the fire,
j "They had scolded, abused and
threatened her all the rest of the day,
i and she was now come, as they had or- ]
' dered her to do, to have Mr. Jackson go j
1 and have the deed made to her mother, I
' without any restriction, or better to i
! bring the SSO payment back if Mr. |
James was willing. She was to fetch ;
her clothes and belongings too, and Mrs. |
Redder had said she'd have no such
doings; Ollie should be hired out with j
the understanding that her wages were j
to be paid directly to her mother.
" 4 They said it was a scandal and a
shame," said Ollie, 4 for a child to ba i
owning land, an' asking their parents to \
live on it. They say I can have the
same sheer as any of the rest when they're ■
gone—the same sheer as Lomy's man
that beats her and don't live with her
half the time, and never has earned a
mouthful for her.
44 'lt'll all be eat up and wasted. I can't j
. help them any, an' I can't help myself ; j
there ain't any hope at all, 1 can see.'
She turned her despairing, childish face
up to me. 'J really wish I was dead,'!
said she, 4 tliero ain't no chance at ail.' j
1 was too exasperated; it was time some- j
thing was done. 1 went and packed up j
her things, tidied her up and sent her ;
with Mr. Jackson across the railroad in I
the wagon. 1 gave her some money and I
a letter to a friend of mine in Kentucky. !
asking her to get Ollie a good place in i
that State.
"1 heard only once from my friend, say
ing Ollic had a nice place with an invalid
lady at some little resort. Mr. James
received the remittances for ihc pay
ment on her piece of land—evidently
forwarded by her employer.
4 'The Rodders wore completely cowed.
They never said a word or made a sign I
and were very glad to go and live on the ,
land, which was again Ollie's, the old
dee I standing since Mrs. Redder had
destroyed the second one.
44 Well, she was away more than a year.
I never heard directly from her, though
Ollie can read and write quite well.
44 When the company bought all this
land hereabouts we, of course, sold to
them as everybody else did, and at a
very good price. Ollie's little piece lav
right in the middle of their town site,
j They had every thing all around it and
I wanted it. We wrote to her and they
| wrote, hut we never got any answer. !
Finally the company sent a man up there ,
and she came home with him.
1 44 You never saw a girl so improved. A
whole year free from nagging and worry,
passed amid refined and pleasant influ
ences, almost as the daughter of the
house for anyone must love Ollie that
has her about—hud perfectly transformed
her.
I u 'Why didn't you answer my letters? 1
I asked.
j il 'Why, dear mc, I never got any, 1
said she; then, looking a little sheepish,
'I never went to the postofficc at all. I
was afraid paw, or some of them, would
be getting somebody to write me a lot of
letters to come home, and 'twould make
me so miserable, 1 just had Mr. James
! send them some money every month, and
i never went to the postofllce at all.'
j "V\ ell, she got a big price for her six
acres of town lots—a little fortune it was
to her.
4 'Now, when she got all this monej
I the family would have made haste to
| assert their claims and get hold of it.
, But, instead of Ollie, they had a very
| manly and forcible young man to deal
with, lie was interested not so much
in the property as in Ollie, and he saw
to it very effectually that she was not
robbed or molested.
"I always had hoped the child might
marry well, hut I could never have ex
pected anything so good as she has done.
While I don't think hiui beyond what
Ollie deserves, 1 was really surprised
when I saw him. Though from her own
class, he has acquired a good education,
is in a responsible position and has a
| manner and bearing that would com
! tnand your instant respect. I think his
1 and Ollie's courtship was mostly car
j l ied on over text books, and that much
of their improvement was due to this
I influence and help.
"They were married last Wednesday
here in the parlor. I'm sure there never
was a happier creature than Ollie when
j she left Harriman, with the old folks
peacefully located on a little farm, aud
Joe beside her to hew out her future
pathway in life. I looked at them, lie
i big, fine looking, full of force, energy
and ambition, endowed and already well
equipped; she good, sweet, bright, with
her share of bruins, too; quick, iutu
: itivc, unstinted sweetness and natural
j charm; and I thought they were the
very typical couple that, here in America,
, might well reach any station."—[Nor
i folk Virginian.
Parsimonious Princes.
The Prince de Joiuville is said to bo
the most parsimonious man in Europe.
lle is enormously rich and is quite as
mean as he is rich. He has a splendid
mansion in Paris, and occasionally he
runs into town to give his personal at
tention to business matters; at such times
lie will not have the fires in the kitchen
lighted, because that would involve too
much expense; whenever he gets hungry
he sends his servant round the corner for
a bowl of soup, a bit of meat and a crust
of bread. His parsimony is proverbial;
even the gamins chaff the old man about
it as lie totters along the streets. This
curious old miser has a nephew who is
almost as pernunous as he; this is the
Comte dc Paris, the gentleman who is
now being feted in the United States.
The Comtc dc Paris is enormously rich
and so is his wife; they have always had
a lot of money, yet they can make a
penny go further than the most prudent
housewife. The talk now is that the
Comtc and his wife are not going to let
their sou, the Due d'Orlcans, marry his
cousin, the daughter of the Duchess de
Chartres,because forsooth, the girl has no |
. money to speak of. The young people j
arc very much attached to one another,
and the girl is really a pretty, bright ami !
admirable creature. As for the Due
d'Orleans, he is not accounted much by
those who know him. lie is called "the
•fat boy," aud he appears to be lazy, sen
suous uud heavy, with a certain distinct
craving of notoriety that does not in
volve personal danger. It is likely that
no difficulty will be had in dissuading
him from marrying his pretty, but poor
cousin, and in inducing him to take up
with the daughter* of the Archduke
Joseph of Austria, the Archduchess Marie
Amelia, who will bring an immense
dowry.—[Chicago News.
I
Startling a Stranger.
Down below Natchez, while the boat
was running in close to the left-hand bank
and had stopped her wheels to avoid a
big tree floating in an eddy, wc saw a
native sitting on a stump fishing. lie
sat bent over, hat over his eyes, aud
I there was scarcely a movement to tell
! that he was alive. Wc had a smart
I Aleck with us on the promenade deck,
and he had no sooner caught sight of the
j native than he called to one of the deck
hands to toss him up a potato. A peck
or more of the tubers were lying loose
near a pile of sacks, and one was quick
ly tossed up.
I i 'Now see me startle him," said Smart
; Aleck, as he swung his arm for a throw.
The distance was only about a hun
; dren feet, and his aim was so true that
I the potato landed on the native's
head with a dull thud. His motions
were so quick that wc couldn't agree as to
how he did it, but in about three seconds
he had dropped his fishpole, pulled a re
volver as long as his arm, and tired at
Smart Aleck. The bullet bored a hole in
his silk hat just above his hair, and the
young man sank down in a heap and
fainted dead away. When we restored
him to his senses he carefully felt of the
t >p of his head, looked back at the fish
erman, and absently asked:
"Did she explode both boilers or only
| one?"—[New York Sun.
Origin of the Barings.
Two centuries ago there lived at lire- |
men, in Germany, a pastor of the Luther- i
an Church named Franz Baring, or Baer- '
ing. In those days the ministers of his !
order might be men of great learning, I
but their circumstances were at the best
moderate. Ilis sou. John Baring, went
to England and cstabli hed himself as a '
clothmaker near Exeter, in Devonshire, j
From the ranks of the cloth drapers and
the linen drapers, quite as often as from
among the goldsmiths, the merchants ;
and bankers were then recruited. John
Baring's son, Fraficis, born in 1740, was
sent at an early age to learn the "art,
trade and mystery " of a merchant, and
before he died he made himself, by con
sent, the first merchant in the world. He
was a director in the Honorable East In- {
dia Company, then oue of the highest
rewards to which a merchant
might hope to attain ; for a time he was
the great company's chairman; for twen
ty-two years he sat in Parliament, then
a far more exclusive body than it has be
come under the extended suffrage; in
1703 he was made a baronet ; in 1810 he
died. But his first title to honor is that i
he founded the house of Barings. His
sous were the first Baring Brothers.—
[New York Tribune.
Why Called " Strawberries " P
Writers on the strawberry assume that
its name is derived from the use of straw
about the plants, to keep the earth from
soiling the berries. This has been proved
untenable from the fact that there is no
evidence from ancient authors on garden
ing that straw was used to any extent
that could associate the berry with it,
and especially from the fact that the J
name was evidently existent among the i
English peasantry long before the plant !
had garden culture for its fruits. Now
the suggestion is that it might have been
called strew or stray berry, from the
habit of strewing itself over large tracts
through the medium of its runucrs.
Possibly some one some day will upset
these sage surmises. It is at least cleai
from the use of the word in this connec
tion that the straw in strawberry meant
I something in the past different from what
, 1 we take it to mean in oui timo.—[New
] York Independent. /.
THE JOKER'S BUDGET.
JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY
MEN OF THE PRESS.
A Strong Hint—Ruffle! and Yet
i Amiable—Altogether Too High—
His Room Better Than His Com
pany, etc., etc.
A STRONG HINT.
They were roasting chestnuts in the
fire.
"I am going to call that chestnut by
your name,"
"Why?" asked he.
"Because it seems to bo cracked and
won't pop."
.But he did.—[Boston Traveller.
RUFFLED, AND YET AMIABLE.
"Was Elizabeth an amiable queen?" j
"Yes, I think so."
"lu all the pictures I ever saw of her 1
she appeared to be somewhat ruffled."
ALTOGETHER TOO HIGH.
Miss Bilkins—Does your friend, the
tenor, ever reach high C?
Mr. Basso—Well, yes, occasionally ; j
hut when he does, it is such a very high j
"sea" that lie is completely swamped by j
it. —[Bazar.
HIS ROOM BETTER THAN HIS COMPANY.
Miss Giltedge—You seem to be glad,
papa, that Mr. Litewatc has gone west,
and yet you said you liked him much
j better than all of my other suitors.
Giltedge, perc—You misunderstood
me, my dear. When you asked my
opinion I said: "I liked him far and
away the best." I do. —[New York j
World.
IT WAS ALL RIGIIT.
New Minister (to young lady whom lie
saw kissing a middle-aged man) —Is that
man a relative of yours?
Young Lady (just engaged to the mid
dle-aged man)—lie is my "popper," sir.
HE WINDY WEATHER.
Windy weather's
Hough on girls
Who wear arti-
Ficial curls; j
For when breezes
Rudely blow,
Imitation
Locks must go.
—[New York Journal.
A TACTFUL HOSTESS.
I She—Our friend Miss Dawson is un
' well to-day.
lie—Yes, she overexerted herself last
uight.
She—How ?
He—She invited six persons M to din
ner, and as not one of them was on speak
ing terms with any of the others, she had
to entertain each one separately and at
the same time.—[Muusey's Weekly.
OF VITAL IMPORTANCE.
He—lt's rather embarrassing, dear,
for me to kiss you when your grand
, mother is here in the room.
She—Never mind that, love. She is j
blind in one eye.
lie—Say, are you 3ure we are on the ,
right side ? —[Epoch.
MADE XIIM SICK.
St. Paul Man (on railway train)—lt
just makes me sick to sec the cheap wit!
that's gotten oil about St. Paul and Min- i
neapolis, just as if there was a deadly
rivalry between them.
Stranger—Well, isn't there any?
St. Paul Man—bless your heart, no;
not a particle. Each place is contribu
tory to the other, and we all recognize j
it. No feeling on the subject at all, sir !
—never was. Couldn't be, of course,
among sensible people, you know. You
arc on your way to St. Paul, I presume.
Stranger—No, I am going to Miuncapo
lis, to settle there.
St. Paul Man—Minneapolis? What do
you want to bury yourself in that miser
able little hole for?—[New'York Weekly.
A MATTER OF REGRET.
I Dnshaway—Do you mind tobacco
| smoke, Mrs. Bingo?
j Mrs. Bingo—Oh, not at all. I aui not
! like some other women. There was old
Mrs. Summit; A whiff of tobacco smoke
would drive her out of the room quick as
a wink.
Dosha way (thoughtfully)—l wish I had
known that when I was calling on her
, daughter.
A BRUTE.
Mr. Newcd—What kind of pudding is
that?
Mrs. Newcd (archly)— Guess. It has
something to do with tho place honey
moons arc often passed in.
Mr. N.—Ah, yes; a Hat pudding. Very
good, indeed. Quite appropriate.
Mrs, N. (tearfully)—l iu meant a
c-c-COttagc pudding.—[New York Her
ald.
AX UNPLEASANT FEATURE.
Two professional blind beggars.
"I say, Bill, what makes me that dis
gusted with this biz I could chuck it up
any day is, that bein' supposed to have !
lost the use of our heyes we can't kick
when some bloke goes and drops a bo
gus coin inter the 'at and then prances
off lookin' vartuous, like as if he'd gone
an' done a hact of charity."—(Judge.
NEEDLESS TO STATE.
The picnic—that memory of days that
are gone -
How dear were the pleasures it gave us!
Though whenever we went we regretted
the fun,
We couldn't help going to save us.
And the youth (that immortal) who sits
in the pic,
The custard so placid and sunny.
He feels like, ana knows that he looks
like a guy,
He laughs, but he doesn't feel funny.
The orange-peel stricken supiucly is laid;
One misses the car he's pursuing,
Or he steps on the corn of some fair acrid
maid,
And she angrily asks what he's doing.
He hands to the sexton who passes the
plate
A chip when he meant to givo money,
On occasions like this it is needless to
state
He laughs, but he doesn't feel funny.
—[Washington Post.
HER MISTAKE.
"How do you tell when there is any
gold in this funny-looking stone?" asked
the dear girl who was being shown
around the mint by an official.
"Why, we smelt it," he replied.
Holding it to her pretty little nose,
she remarked very innocently: "Why 1
smelt it, too, but X don't see anything
about it to—Why, what arc you laugh
ing at?"—[Boston Traveller.
THE DOG EXPLAINS.
j "Why do you bark at the moon''
asked the Tomcat.
"Poor thing," answered tho watchdog
as ho jingled his chain; "haven t yo'j
, ever heard that the moon exerts an influ
ence on the tied."
ITS MISSION.
Brings—That exercising machine is
really quite an ornament to your room.
Griggs—Yes; that is what I got it for.
—[Puck.
EASILY OBTAINED.
Count Yon Ennione—Your enormously
wealthy American aristocracy has, alas,
no titles.
Miss Bronson—That's true; but then
we can buy what few we need, you know.
—[Life.
LOUD NOODLEBY AT HOME.
'•What ridiculous games you have foi
your towns —Conshohocken, Wcehaw- j
ken, Hoboken, —they are pcrfectlj :
laughable," said Lord Noodlcby.
"Yes, our nomenclature is queer,' j
returned Hicks. "I suppose," he added,
"your lordship lives most of the time ic
London."
"Oh, no, indeed. I'm almost nlwayf
at my castle at Pokcstogy-ou-thc-llikc.''
—[New York Sun.
DOMESTIC ECONOMY.
Daughter—Pa, you remember you told ,
me to save all the pieces of string from
store packages and wftid them into f
ball ?
Economical Pa—Yes, my dear. Die
you ? |
Daughter—Every bit, and it makes th<
cutest little ball you oversaw. Now l'n:
goiug to knit a handy little bag to put il
in. Give me a dollar and fifty cents foi
zephyr, please.
A PAINFUL MEMORY.
"Grindstone, were you ever a eandi |
date for office?" asked his friend.
" Yes, I went through a campaign (
once as a candidate, "replied Grindstone,
as a look of pain flitted across his face,
"but I lived it down, Kiljordan—]
lived it down."—[Chicago Tribune.
GOOD FOR BOTH.
Peddler—What's that air bird in th<
cage, ma'am ?
Farmer's Wife—That's a bald eagle, j
Peddler—Ye don't say! Better try a
bottle of my hair-restorer, ma'am. It's
good for man or beast.J
DOMESTIC PEACE.
Old Doctor—llow do you get along
with your husband now, Mrs. Maguire?
Mrs. Maguire—Very nicely, thank ye.
He's dead.—[New York Weekly.
ANOTHER TESTIMONIAL.
4 'ls marriage a failure?"
4 'Well," responded Mrs. X. thought
fully, "1 think husbands arc nicer than
cats but not so niec as pugs."—[Epoch.
COMPLIMENTARY.
Briggs—l've got a crow to pick with
Watts. I intend to find out what he
] meant by calling me small potatoes.
Braggs—There ain't no harm in that.
It is really a compliment this year to be
called any kind of potatoes.—[lndianap
olis Journal.
ON, MISERY!
44 1 believe Fanny is making me an
afghan," said the youth. 44 1 was calling
there last night and she was working on
it, but she wouldn't tell mo who or what
it was for."
! "She told me. It is for you, but it is
| not an afghan. It's one of a pair of car
i tabs."
NOT APPRECIATED.
Father—Did you break this vase ?
j Johnny—Ye3, father ; I can't lie.
| Father—lndeed! Well, you won't be
able to sit either when lam done with
I you. Come along to the woodshed.—
[New York Herald.
A QUESTION OF DEAFNESS.
Hunter—Can it be possible that you
are getting deaf ?
Wyckes—Yes; I proposed to a girl
last week.
Hunter —What has that to do with it ?
Wyckes - She lent me a deaf car, and I
forgot to return it.
PERSIFLAGE IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.
"Humph!" sneered the ass as he en
countered the zebra. "You look like an
escaped convict."
"Possibly," retorted the zebra. "But
no one ever would take me for an ass."
WHERE THE TROUBLE CAME IN.
"One thing, Mrs. Bellows, I know
myself," said Bellows.
"That's the trouble with you, Mr.
Bellows, you know too many low peo
ple."—[New York Herald.
WITH AUBURN HAIR.
"My love is like the red, red rose,"
lie sang. She did not like the air;
For others now his music Hows.
You sec his love had auburn hair.—
[Washington Post.
Living Without Sleep.
Boucicault, the late playwright, was
SO anxious to get as much out of life as
possible that (luring the last four or live
years of his career he denied himself
proper sleep, going to bed nt two and
rising at six. The time passed in slum
ber he considered wasted. More rest
than this he did not seem to require.
The other day I read of a man in Lon
don who never sleeps, ns we understand
the word. lie is the janitor of a large
building to which people resort nt all
hours of the twenty-four. This ccbcrus
volunteered for a double salary to do the
watching day and night, and so he does,
sitting in a chair and opening a gale every
time the bell lings. There is never a
longer interval than fifteen minutes, and
yet he contrives to snatch sufficient sleep
to serve him. His health is good and
liis happiness apparently complete. lie
looks upon himself as fortunate in having
this exacting place, which most other
men would not accept at any price. The
amount of sleep is to a considerable de
gree a matter of temperament.—[Balti
more N e ws.
Emin Faaha.
Einiu Bey, or Pasha, is an Austrian,
named Eduard Schnitzer, bom in 1840.
He was a medical student and received
the appointment of surgeon in the Turk
ish army. In 1870 ho was appointed
Burgeon-General of the Egyptian army,
and in that capacity was ordered to
Khartoum. In 1878 when Geucrnl Gor
don was Governor of the Soudan, Emin
was appointed Governor of the equator
ial provinces of Egypt. He was known
then as Emin Bey, and was afterward
promoted to Pasha. By good financier
ing there wns a surplus in the treasury,
instead of a deficit as before. He drovfl
the grasping slave trader out of his pro
vince, and civilized the people. Every
thing was prosperous. The slave traders
declared war on Emin Pasha, who had
practically exiled them, and as the sur
rounding country was ruled by slave
traders, the Governor-General was in
1882-88 cut off from the outsido world.
Dr. Junker, the Russian explorer, made
known this state of affairs to the home
authorities, and Stanley wns sent to re
lieve Emin Pasha in 1887.—rDetroitFree
Press.
MAN-EATERS.
THE TKHRIBLIK ANI> CI'NNINO
TIGEHS OF INDIA.
Tlicy Abound in ilic Jiinjjlcs—
The Most Wary of Animals—One
Terrorized a Village for Fourteen
Years.
Sir Samuel W. Baker, in his recent
book, "Wild Beasts and their Ways,"
says that if the tiger has been born in
jungles abounding in wild pigs he is apt
to have a well-fed and comfortable ap
pearance, very different from the tiger of
the Zoological Gardens, which "is a
long, lithe creature, with little flesh,
aud from the lack of exercise the muscles
arc badly developed. Such a specimen
affords a poor example of the grand ani
mal in its native jungles, whose muscles
arc almost ponderous in their develop
ment from the continued exertion in
nightly rambles over long distances and
in mortal struggles when wrestling with
its prey. A well-fed tiger is by no means
a slim figure, but, 011 the contrary, it is
exceedingly bulky, broad in the shoul
ders, back and loins, with an extraordi
nary girth of limbs, especially in the
forearm and wrist. The muscles are
tough and hard, and there are two pecu
liar bones unattached to the skeleton
frame; these arc situated in the flesh of
either shoulder, apparently to afford ex
tra cohesion of the parts, resulting in
additional strength when striking a blow
or wrestling with a heavy animal."
lie has something very clear and defi
nite to say about the man-eater: "A pro- j
fessed man-eater is the most wary of
animals and is very difficult to kill, not
because it is superior in strength, but
through its extreme c aution and cunning,
which renders its discovery a work of
long labor and patient search. An aver
age native does not form a very hearty
meal. The man-eater will seize an un
suspecting person by the neck aud will
then drag the body to some retreat in
which it can devour its prey in undis
turbed security. Having consumed the
more fleshy portions, it will probably
leave the body, and will never return
again to the carcass; but will seek a
fresh victim, perhaps, at some miles' dis
tance, in the neighborhood of another
village. Their cautious habits render
it almost impossible to destroy a cun
ning man-eater, as it avoids all means of
detection. In this peculiarity the ordi
nary man-catiug tiger differs from all
others, as the cattle-killer is almost cer
tain to return on the following night to
the body which it only partially de
voured after the first attack.
But the "man-eater" is not the only
scourge. There arc tigers which never
touch men but arc terrible robbers of
I cattle. Sir Samuel gives an account of
; one of these:
"Although the tiger as a 'man-cater' is
a terrible scourge, aud frequently inflicts
incredible loss upon the population of a
district, there arc tigers in existence
which would never attack a human be
ing, although they exist upon the cattle
of the villages aud have every opportu
nity of seizing women and children iu
their immediate neighborhood. About j
nine years ago there was a well-known ;
animal of this character at a place called I
Bhundra, in the Jubbulpur district, 1
which was supposed to have killed up
ward of 500 of the natives' cattle. This
was a peculiarly large tiger, but so harm
less to man that he was regarded merely
in the light of a cattle-lifter, and neither
woman nor child dreaded its appearance.
The natives assured 111 c that during
fourteen years it had been the common
object of pursuit, both by officers, civil
ians and by their own shikaris, but
as the tiger was possessed by the
devil, it was quite impossible to de
stroy it. This possession by an
evil spirit is a common belief, and in
this instance the people spoke of it
as a matter of course that admitted of 110
argument; they assured me that the
tiger was frequently met by the natives,
aud that it invariably passed them in a
friendly manner without the slightest
demonstration of hostility, but that it
tojk away a cow or bullock in the most
regular manner every fourth day. It
varied its attentions, and having killed
a few head of cuttle belonging to one
village it would change the locality for
a week or two, and take toll from those
within a radius of four or five miles,
always returning to the sumc haunts and
occupying or laying up in the same jun
gle. The great peculiarity of this par
ticular tiger consisted iu its extreme
contempt for firearms; it exposed itself
almost without exception when driven
by a line of beaters, aud when shot at it
simply escaped, only to reappear upon
the following day. I was informed that
everybody that had gone after
it had obtained a shot, but bullets
were of no use against a devil, therefore
it was always missed."
The account of his killing of this an
imal is as follows:
"At this moment I raised my eyes from
the nullans in which lie was expected,
and I saw, through the intervening leaf
less mass of bushes upon the opposite
slope, a dim outline of an enormous tiger, j
so indistinct that the figure resembled j
the fading appearance of a dissolving
view. Slowly and stealthily the shad |
owy form advanced along the face of the j
slope, exactly crossing my Hue of sight, j
This was the "possessed of the devil" I
had escaped during so many years, and
I could not help thinking that many
persons would risk the shot in its present,
position, when the bullet must cut
through a hundred twigs before it could
reach the mark, and thus would probably
be deflected. The tiger was now til out
forty yards distant, and although the
bushes were all leafless, there was one
exception, which lay iu the"direct path
the tiger was taking, a little upon my
right; this was a very dense and large
green bush called karoonda. Exactly to
the right, upon the edge of this opaque
screen, there was an open space about
nine or ten feet wide, where a large rot
ten tree had been blown down, and
should the tiger continue its present
course it would pass the karoonda bush
and cross over the clear opening. I re
solved to wait; therefore, resting my left
elbow upon my knee, I covered the
shoulder of the unconscious tiger and
followed it with the .577 rifle carefully,
resolved to exorcise the devil that had
for so long protected it.
"Theshouts of tho beaters were now
heard distictly, and the loud tom-tom
eounded cheerfully as the line ap
proached. Several times the stopped
and turned its head to listen, then
it disappeared from view behind the
dense screen of the karoonda bush.
" I lowered tho rifle to rest my arm for
a moment. So long a time elapsed that
I was afraid the tiger had turned straight
up the hill in a direct line with the bush,
and thus lost to sight. I had almost
come to this sad conclusion, when a mag
nificent head projected from tho dark
green bush into the bright light of the
open space. For quite fifteen seconds
the unimalthus stood with only head ex
posed to view, turned half way around
to listen. I felt quite sure that I could
have put a bullet through its brain, but I
-waited. Presently it emerged, a splendid
form, and walked slowly across the open
space. At the same moment as I touched
the trigger the tiger reared to its full
height upon its hind and with a
roar that could have been heard a couple
of miles distant it seized a small tree
within its jaws, aud then fell backwards;
it gave one roll down the slope, and lay
motionless. The devil was cast out."
A THRILLING RIDE.
A Planter Had All the Fun- He
Wanted with a 'Gator.
David Yarborough owns an orange
grove and an alligator farm on the St.
John's Kiver in Florida, where he spends
his winters. When Yarborough bought
this place, five years ago, says the St.
Louis Globe-Democrat, he issued orders
to his teuants that no one should be al
lowed to shoot alligators on the river at
that point, lie wanted them to grow
and multiply until there were enough of
them to furnish exciting sport. Not au
alligator was killed on the place until
last winter, when Yarborough took a
party of friends flown to the farm for
a month's fishing and hunting. AU
along the river which bounded one side
of the farm alligators were found in
abundance and shooting them was the
favorite sport of the party.
One day Yarborough and his friends
were out on the river in a small boat to
try their luck fishing. Tlicy were very
successful, and about sundown started
home. As they approached the boat
landing a huge'gator was seen lying on
1 the bank. Three shots were fired at him
| but noue of them reached a vital spot,
j and the alligator made a dash for the
water, going straight toward the boat.
The boat was within ten feet of the bunk
aud the water was shallow.
The big saurian, iu his mad dash for
deep water, ran under the boat and over
turned it. All the occupants were thrown
! out on the side next the bank and scram
bled ashore, except Yarborough. He fell
the other way and struck the water
right by the side of the alligator's tail.
luvoluutarily he grasped the tail of the
saurian, and before he fully realized
what h<* was holding to was drawn out
into deep water.
The 'gator did not go to the bottom,
but seemed to be making for the oppo
site bank of the river. Feeling some
thing on his tail he began to lash the
water into foam, throwing Yarborough
around as if he had been a piece of cork.
Realizing that he was now iu deep water
and beiug a poor swimmer, Yarborough
held on for dear life and shouted to his
companions on the bank to come to his
rescue. He was thrown astride the alli
gator's tail,and leaning forward clutched
it with both arms as a drowning mau
would grasp at a life-preserver. The
alligator increased his exertions to rid
himself of the heavy incumbrance, and
about the middle of the river Yarborough
was thrown off, and at the same time re
ceived a heavy blow on the head which
almost knocked him senseless.
His friends on the bank had righted
the boat as quickly as possible aud were
pulling to his rescue with all their
j might. He managed to keep afloat until
! they reached him, when lie was dragged
j into the boat more frightened than hurt.
I Next day Yarboroughi instructed his
j tenants to allow any one to shoot alliga-
I tors who wanted to. He had had all the
fun with them he wanted.
Facts About the Pecan.
The pecan is a nut of the future, and
the Southern planters who arc setting
out great orchards of pecan trees will
now reap big fortunes a few years hence.
There is one man in Florida who has a
grove of 4,000 pecan trees of flue vari
eties, nearly all of them grafted, six
years old and seven to eight feet. high.
When they get to bearing we will have
a big thing. A grown pecan tree will
produce two barrels of nuts yearly, and
those nuts will sell at sls a barrel whole •
sale. That will mean an income for the
| proprietor of the grove I refer to of con
, siderable more than SIOO,OOO a year.
! Seedling pecans may turn out very well,
j but the only sure way is to graft. Plan
' tations of pecans are being started nu
merously in Georgia, Alabama, Texas,
Louisiana aud Mississippi. In Califor
nia they are just beginning to be cul
tivated in orchards of from 100 to
200 acres. There arc about fifty
different varieties of pecans that
, I know of. The finest specimens
■' now produced come from the neigh
: borhood of Ocean Springs, Miss. Of
J course, you know that the pecan is
I purely an American nut; it only grow 9
l on this continent. In the West Indies,
. however, they arc trying to introduce it.
Before very long we shall doubtless cx
, i port large quantities of pecans.
Hickory nuts are beginning to be cul
' livutcd also. Some of the wild shag
i barks are very big and fine, and, start
| ing with them, crops of excellent quality
I ought to be obtained. We have received
i reports of hickory nuts that used to grow
! in a certain region of the West, which
! are six inches in diameter, but the trees
i that bore them were all cut down a few
I years ago. 1 believe this to be an exag
geration. Possibly the nuts described
were as much as three inches in diameter.
I myself have seen them as much as two
aud a half inches. It is in the Wabash
valley of Indiana that the biggest hicko
ry uuts grow.—[Washington Star.
A Visit to a Coal Mine.
| A visit to a coal mine is a decided
I i novelty. The darkness and dirt, to-
II gather with the dripping water and the
11 ever present dangers, arc calculated to
r deter timid people from entering the
, shaft. Those who have made the jour
| ney through the various passages of a
, mine, aud have witnessed the modus
operandi therein, consider themselves
| repaid for all the discomforts oxj>er-
I icnced ou the trip. The deepest shaft
in Pennsylvania is in a miuc near Potts
' ville, 1,710 feet. Some of the mine gal
leries run horizontally underground from
the shaft, following the veins for a mile
, and a half. The coal is found in veins
1 of various thickness, between layers of
rough slate, the top. layer being known
among miners as the roof, and the bot
tom as the floor. The mines arc kept in
, shape by timbers, of which large quan
-1 tities are used, and were it not for these
supports the galleries would collapse. In
most of the mines pure air is blown in
constantly by fans, which sometimes
| produce a perfect gale through the gal
leries. This is the only preventive of
. gas.—[Commercial Advertiser.
The Be3t Food for a Dog.
Too much meat produces disease of
the bones in a do£. As a regular food,
corn meal, boiled into thick mush, with
broth made of meat scraps with small
1 bones, and then cooled into a nearly
solid moss, seasoned with salt moderate
■ ly, and pure wfttcr for drink, will be
' found the most conducive to health.
' This is about the composition of dog
biscuits.—[New York Times.