TAKE HEART OF GRACE. lake heart of grace, begin anew, To-day's to day. not yesterday, And on ita budding bloom the dew Of early mornings! ill dotli play. Take heart of grace, and gather up This dewy sweetness of the morn, Fill up with this your emptied cup, And pledge the fair hours newly born. Take heart of grace, and look be .'a re, Instead of backward on the way, Wash out the old regretful score, The soi rowing sins of yesterday: And let the old mistakes and pain. |Be cleansed with this refreshing dew. And make beginning once again, With hope and courage bright and now. For what's the world and all its days, But ours to try and try again, Not ouis to falter on its ways, Not ours to fling uside for pain. Take heart of grace then, day by day, Take heart of grace and sing each morn, "To-day's to day, not yesterday, Aud all the world is newly born!" —[Nora Perry in Youth's Companion. SHIM'S TROUSSEAU. iiv i;mma a. offer. Going lioiuc from the post oftice-ollicc, Katy Gibson overtook Harlan Chapman, and /%ve a glad exclamation, "Oh, Hur ley!"'and walked on with him in gay couteutmeut, the state of affairs which caused the proceeding being just what was indicated; Katy was cngagod to Harlan Chapman. ,k This just came," she said, holding aloft a long package. "It's from Aunt Ann, aud I know it's a sugar-spoon—l feel it; aud Seiina has got two already —one from Cousin Jotliam and one from Uncle Sam. Also, to wit—two lamps and three clocks. We're looking for the third lamp and the fourth clock every minute." Katie looked up at her tall lover with i her charming,blue-eyed, bright-complex- [ ioned face radiant with the fun and good nature never absent from it. When Harlan Chapman, whose family was one of the best and the best oil' in town, had engaged himself to Katv (lib son, whose father was only an indiffer ently successful millwright, his dignified relations had shaken their heads—till they had seen Katy Gibson. Then they had stared a little, smiled, beamed, patted her on the head, and congratu lated Harlan. "Ican't realize it," said Kitty, with a sisterly sigh, "that day after to-morrow Sclina will be Mrs. McLean and be go ing to West Lyme to live. Oh, dear,but she will! Almost everything's done— the cake and the disli-borrowing and the goodness knows what! 1 know my head's in a muddle. And it's this after noon, you know, llarley," said Katy, giggling again, "that we're going after Selina's trosseau." Belina's trosseau had been a joke of long standing. With one exception, every article of Selinn's modest little out fit had been made by her own busy hands, or by Kitty's or her mother's wil ling ones. The exception was the simple blue cloth gown which would serve double duty as bridal robe and traveling gown. That Selina had intrusted to Miss Green. Miss Green's unpretentious shop was two miles away, and the Gibsons had never known a horse and buggy. There lore, llarlan Chapman, who owned three horses and two buggies, had taken his prospective sister-in-law thither as often as a fitting was necessary, with Katy always a jolly third. And he and Katy had wrung unlimited fun out of it. They tailed it Seliua's trosseau, never referring to it otherwise. They spoke of Miss Green as Worth, and supposed Sclina s trosseau to be valued at a thous and dollars. They dwelt upon the diffi culty of getting it through the custom house, and of the many descriptive col umns which the New York papers would wish to publish about it, and of the an noyance certain to be suffered through greedy and clamoring reporters. They rung the changes mirthfully, and Sclina had laughed till she was lame. "You're going to take me up for it this afternoon, you know, llarley," suid Katy. And she looked up at her lover with a sudden little gasp. llarley hadn't uttered a syllable vet. "What's the matter, llarley?" she marveled. "There's matter enough, Miss Gib son," said her lover, shortly, and Katy's heart stood still. When had he ever called her Miss Gib son before? lie was a handsome fellow. And now his fine eyes were stern under their straight, dark brows, and his well-chis eled lips were firmly set. "What is it, llarley? 1 ' said Katy, in a voice made l'ceblc by "dismay. "1 saw you last night, then," said her lover, "and I'd like to know wh&rc you'd been with Joe Martin. I saw you, I tell you 1" Katy raised a blank face. "Oh, I know the whole business," Harlan burst forth. "I know he was going with you before I cut him out, and that he's been grumpy toward me ever since. Everybody's known that; every body's known it was a fair and square deal, too. I wanted you and told you so, and you chose to take me; and I thought my troubles were over when you told me you could never love Joe Martin, and you'd told him so; and you did care for ine, and you'd be true to me always." If Katy had listened to the thrill of fondness and yearning in his voice! But what she heard was the accusing an ger in it, and her guiltless heart re belled. "What I didn't know was that you hadn't got over liking him. I trusted you. I believed what you said, and I'd never have suspected you of keeping on with him to amuse yourself or make a fool ot me—or goodness knows what you re after!" "Harlan!' said Katy, warningly. Her eyes were bright with indmna- 1 tion. "Going out with him in the evening is keeping on with him," said her lover, sternly. d saw you together last night. Hid i, or didn't I?" In his cold displeasure he was whole leagues away from her, and Katy's chin went up, the brightness of her eyes in creasing to a flush. "You might have," she answered j calmly. A hot flush rose to Harlan's cheek. He had to steady his voice before be spoke. "I won't ask you where you had been or anything about it. I won't humble myself to that extent. Oh, I don't sus pect you of much! I suppose he begged you to take a walk with him a little ways and talk ever old times, and I .sup pose you hated to say no and went, and I suppose I might have heard all you said. But I don't like it! It was no way to treat ire. You're engaged to me aud no other fellow has a right to your com pany on any occasion —not without my knowing it. Have Iso much as looked at another girl since I got your promise? No; aud I never would have. You've uo such notions, though. You suit yourself and Joe Martin. You've shown that you don't care a straw for me or my rights or my feelings!" They stood at the Gibsons' gate. Katy's 11 hecks were piuk, her hands tremulous with the shocked resentment she could not keep back. But she forced herself to say; "Harlan—why, Harlan!—do you be lieve that?" "Believe it?" said Harlan Chapman severely. "I>o I believe my own eyes and your own admission? Believe it!" They stood hotly facing each oilier for an instant. "Y'ou will excuse me from my engage ment with you this afternoon, will you not?" the young man demanded, stiffly. "And from all other engagements — all!" hi* sweetheart lluug back, and turned and ran into the house. "Why didn't llarlcy come iu?" said Salina, busy with some last button holes. "He'll—never—come in—again!" her | pretty sister sobbci, burying herself in ! the sofa-cushion. * -t * * * * j Harlan Chapman stalked home and ate his diuner, and sat down on the | porch and read an article about trout , fishing in a late magazine. He read it thoroughly, examining the 1 illustrations attentively, and striving to j ! glean all possible information. But j when lie had reached the tail-piece he somehow felt that he knew less about j trout thr.n about auy other fish, flesh or i fowl, under the sun. lie tossed the magazine from him. It J slipped from the porch into the petunia-1 bed, but he did not bestir himself. 1 There was no use in pretending and so j lie gave it up. He could think of nothing but Katy ! Gibson—Katie Gibson! Funny how she had grown into his life till this breaking with her made him j feel like u balloon sailing off alone from the face of the universe! Queer what j habit could do! He tried to quiet his stiuging sensa- 1 tions with sucli like philosophical mus- | ings. But, making a dismal failure of it, j he got up aud strode up and down the porch. lie did not feci like a conquering hero exactly. He knew he ought to. He had been lightly—nay, wretchedly—treated j by the girl of his heart, lie had con fronted her with his knowledge of it, and she had defiantly admitted it. I Hence she was the girl of his heart no ! longer ; a perfectly plain case—plainer j tlian pleasing. The young man fell, iuconsequently, \ to thinking about a peculiar dimple which one particular grimacing laugh of Katy Gibson's always produced. Catharine Eleanor Gibson! He had been used to fancy how that would look on their wedding-cards next winter. ll'ml ilow about Selina's trousseau, anyhow? How would she get it? It would make rather a balk, that. He had promised Seiina to see it through and he had backed out,aud it was rather rough on Seiina. Really, he hadn't anything against I Sclina. It was Katy, of course, and in strict justice Selina ought not to suffer by Katy's shortcomings. lie was wandering down the steps when that conviction forced itself upon him. He thought lie would drive up and get Selina's trousseau, anyhow. He didn't see how he could decently get out of doing that much. He put in the horse with alacrity. By the time he had done it lie was quite in : the spirit of the thing. It was more than he ought to do, anyhow. He ! drove out of the yard at a rattling trot. It seemed odd not to have Katy with him -not to see her pretty, straight little profile against the dark-blue carriage lining, and her yellow hair. lie congratulated himself that his shortest route was not past the Gibsons'. His horse would be sure to turn in there; he did so usually of his own accord. , Here was the lot where lie had once stopped to get wild-roses for her; here was the house she always declared was top-heavy. Oh, well, things would remind him of her, of course, for some time yet. That was natural. And Miss Green's chimney was in sight. > Miss Green was watering her window ! plants. Mr. Chapman was a familiar fig ! urc now, and she nodded smilingly. I "Selina's trousseau?" said Harlan, eagerly. "Is it ready?" j "What?" said the dressmaker. ' "Oh, Misa Gibson's dress, you know!" said the young man, blushing. "That's what we've called it, you know." Miss Green laughed. I "I see. Well, it went just about twenty minutes ago. Miss Gibson's sis ter came and got it." "Oh.'"said Harlan, with several cmo-i tioLS distinct in his voice. He went stitffy back to his buggy. So Katie had trumped away up here j and got it, without giving him a ghost of a chance to do it himself, as she ought to have kuowu he would if she let it alone? What, nonsense to take a four-mile tramp for nothing when she knew he was always ready and willing! What was he thinking of, though? lie had been ready and willing, but he remembered that all that was changed. She had been wout to command him prettily. Would she ever again ? A plague on Joe Martin and his imper tinence, anyhow, to have interfered in the happiest affair the sun had ever shone on! Without doubt that had been his object exactly—to undermine tilings by sly degrees and win for himself the girl he had once sued to vainly. Harlan's heart bounded at that. Yes, vainly! Joe Martin had done his humble level best, and failed, and he had won the dear prize he had sought. And she was a prize The sweetest girl in town, and tlie brightest and the handsomest. Always with a daintily proud little manner of Iter own toward people in general never to him. A girl i with a rare mind and a warm heart, and | a face like a fair tlower. A girl any man could be proud to marry. And she had given herself to him, unhesitatingly, trustingly. By Jove! what it she had gone out walking with Joe Martin? Perhaps she hadn't been able to get out of it. per hnp> Oh, he was ready and anxious to forgive her to take her back! lie never could get along without her. He had been a - What he had been, he did not then j specify. Afardown the road before him I he saw a sight which made him spring up and crack his whip over the horsr's : That he might overtake her had not' occurred t<> him, but there she was, big j bundle and all. oh, how glad he was!! It was fortunate that Miss Gibson was ! J"t then passing a long stretch of empty • fields, for anything more observant than ! birds and woodchucks might have been' surprised to see a young man jump from 1 las buggy, stride to the side of a pretty pedestrian, and seize lier two hands in a tenderly vise-like grip. Selina's trousseau tumbled to the ground. "Hurley!" Katy faltered, gasping. ! "Yes, Hurley!" lie echoed, delimited that she used his familiar pet name. "Our engagement isn't 'off,' Katy. I)o you hear? Not a bit of it. I was a suspicious fool and a jealous bear, but you've got to forgive me. I won't ask you another word about it, and that'll prove that I'm sorry. I won't pry into that or anything else. I'll believe that you love me. Why, I know you do, aud that will he enough." But Katy did the inevitable thing— ! she burst out crying. 1 "It was my fault," she sobbed. "I I was angry when I shouldn't have been. , Y'ou did have a right to ask, Hurley, aud I it kept me from saying a word." "I didn't give you a chance." j 4 'l should have taken it," said Katy. i 44 1 shouldn't have been so stiff and hate ful. I'll tell you now. Ilarley, you'll latigh—you can't help it. It sso ridicul ous-sounding after such a tragic time ! about it. Why, Hurley, we were finish j ing up the frosting on the fruit-cakes i and got out of powdered sugar, aud I • said I'd just run down to Paiuc's aud i get some. Seiina wanted to put those I cakes away last night; so I went. And, of course, when I happened to meet Joe Mi irtin, ho offered to go along, iu the dark so, and that's how you saw us. Oh, ! llarlcy, 1 never would have goue walk ing with him—never! You might have ' known that." "I did know it," Ilurlan avowed. "I was jealous and stupid." ; 44 And about Joe, Ilarley—if you'll 1 hear just, this about him—" i "Anything!" said Harlan, happily, and feeling as though jealousy of Joe Martin or anybody else was too ridicul ous to think of. "lie liked me, of course," said Katy, modestly, "but I'm sure he's getting ov er it. 1 think he's getting to like Fan ny Ileushel. 1 sew them driving once, aud last night he spoke of her. There!" "Y'ou're a darling!" said Harlan, in a species of happy growl. "Selina's trousseau!' ; Katy shrieked, picking it up. But it was entirely unhurt. "Our trousseau, will be in order next," said Ilarlan. 4 'January is rather distant, isn't it? Let's call it November." "Oh, Ilarley!" Katy gasped, as she placed Selina's trousseau tenderly in the waiting buggy. [Saturday Night. Recession of Niagara Falls. The commissioners of the New York ; State reservation at Niagara, N. Y., held ian interesting meeting recently. Mr. Bogard presented a report which showed that Niagara Falls has receded over two feet a year. He has made a survey of the falls showing the position of the crest lines and bluffs at the falls and fur nishing statistics as to the recession of the fulls siuce 1842. The State geologist made a survey of the falls in 1842, aud that is the earliest trustworthy record. Mr. Bogard found | the total mean recession of the Horsc ! shoe Falls since 1842 was 104 feet and 0 ' inches, which is an average of over two feet a year. The maximum recession at one point since then was 270 feet. The rc- I cession of the American falls in the same , period was 00 feet, 0 inches. The total of recession of the American falls since 1842 was 02,900 square feet, and of the Horseshoe Falls 275,400 square feet. The average recession of the Horseshoe Falls lias been greater in the last four years on account of the falling of rocks a few years ago. The surveyors have placed monuments in such positions that fur , ther surveys can he readily made. Mr. Bogard gave it as his opinion that the diversion of water from the Niagara river through the proposed tunnel would have no appreciable effect on the volume of water passing over the American falls. He estimated that 279,000 cubic feet of water pass over the falls every second. The point of division is 1.84 miles above the falls, and the capacity of the tunnel ! 10,000 feet. In every three feet of fall there will be a reduction of 1.3 inches of the tunnel's, I or less than half an inch on each foot. The Test of Death. i It has been recently stated that a prize j offered some years ago for the discovery | of some means whereby the incxperi | cnced might at once determine whether in a given case death had or had not oc j curred, was won by a physician who had , discovered that if a light were plaeed be -1 hind the hand of the supposednfead per ' : son a scarlet tint would be apparent I where the lingers touched each other if ! life were not extinct; and that if no red glow was visible death had taken place, j Dr. W. B. Richardson has written an cs j say in which he states that although this j test has its value, it is not by any means to be trusted as an unfailing indication of life or death. He gives the case of a person in a state of syncope to whom the test was most carefully applied. Not ! the faintest sign of red coloration be tween the fingers could be traced, yet j j the recovery of the syncope was com plete and was effected without any nrtifi- ; cinl aid. Dr. Richardson regards it as a : good test, but is of the opinion that more certain proofs are:—The pulsation; the respiratory murmur; pressure on veins; the electric test for muscular irri tability; the ammonia hypodermic test; coagulation of blood in the veins; rigor mortis, and decomposition.—[New York Telegram. How to Saddle a Horse. "There is only one way to put a sad dle on a horse." sava Colonel Kearney. "I learned it when 1 was a member of the Texas rangers. It's a little thing,but it is worth knowing. I used to put my blanket on and it would look smooth and nice. Then I would put the saddle on and mount. After riding a few miles 1 would find the saddle slipping further and further back and would liud it necessary finally to dismount and cinch up again. One day a cowboy said: 'Let me lix that saddle for you.' 1 g>t oil and he put the blanket on just as I had done and then the saddle. Then ho put his hands under the saddle and blanket and lifted them up and let them settle back into place. I found that when this was done the saddle would stick for a forty-mile ride.'' [Kansas City Times. The Color ot Water. Dr. Mcpherson states that it has been conclusively proven that distilled water !isof a blue color. A demonstration of ! the fact may be had by lowering into waier a metal tube, open at the top and closed at the bottom, with a clear glass plate, close to a white object twenty feet below the surface. Looked at through the tube this object has a beautiful blue I color, whereas it would appear yellow if j its color were due to liirht reflected by suspended particles in the water.— [Arkansas Traveler. | THE JOKER'S BUDGET. ' TESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Did Not Follow- A Natural Ques tion.—She Didn't Know —Nothing to be Gained, &c., &c. DID NOT FOLLOW. "Did you ever notice that children often turn out almost the exact opposite of their parents?" "Oh, yes." "By the way, did you know my father?" j "Very slightly, but I always heard he I was a most talented man."—[St. Joseph News. A NATURAL QUESTION. "Of course, love will make the world go round, but what's to make the kettle ! boil?" "I don't altogether see the needs of its constantly boiling, dear." "Why, love," she continued, "if not, how else in the world could 1 keep you in hot water?"—[Philadelphia Times. SHE DIDN'T KNOW. "Yes, I heard all about her engage ment last night. Iler chum was in our theater party, so it's reliable." "Were you at the theatre? What was the play?" "Bless me! now that you remind me, I don't remember. But we had a splen did time, and her engagement is certain." —[Philadelphia Times. NOTHING TO BE GAINED. Little Son—What was you and Mr. De Bate talkin' so loud about? Father—We were having an argument about the duty on copper. He thinks it ought to be removed, and I think it ought not. "Would removing it make pennies any cheaper." "No, my son." "Then I don't seethe use of bothering with it."—[Good News. AN AWKWARD SITUATION. "Pa, I wish you'd get a girl to mind the door," said Ethel. "Why?" "Because it was very embarrassing last night when that odious Mr. Barrows called for me to tell him I was not at home."—[New York Sun. EVEN-HANDED JUSTICE. Justice—You are charged with com mitting an assault on this man and black ing his eye. What have you to say, sir? 1 i Gentleman—Your Honor, my wife lost a pet dog, and I caught this fellow j bringing it back. I Justice —You are discharged, but as ' for you, you miserable scalawag with a black eye, the next time you steal a lady's dog and don't keep it, I'll send you up for six months.—[New York i Weekly. A REAL NICE REPLY. I "Yes," said Miss Amy, reflectively, "1 was born with a silver spoon *iu my mouth." j "It must have been a very small spoon," replied Mr. Dolley. ARRANGING THE OFFICES. "Now, in this little republic wc are goin $ to establish," remarked young Mr. Hunker to his fiancee, "of course, I ! shall be President." | "Yes," replied the rare and raidiant j maiden; "und I'll be Secretary of the Treasury." I "Perhaps, wc had better consolidate the offices of President and Secretary of ; the Treasury," suggested the young man. I 1 You can have a cabinet place, how ever. How would you like to do your own cooking and so be Secretary of the Interior?"—[New York Sun. UNAVAILING REGRET. Mikosch in Vienna one day undertook for a wager to eat ten large suet dump lings, if the other man would stand him in drink. The bet was accepted and he j began to eat, but only managed to polish oIT nine of the lot. After a long and I meditative stare at the last one which i was left on the dish lie lifted up his j finger and said: "Had I but known that you would be I left I would have eaten you first!" EABILY ANSWERED! I Little Marjorie has an inquiring mind. | She is pursuing her education according jto the Socratic method—of question and 1 answer—and keeps the older members of the family pretty well employed. "Oh, papa!" she cried, running after that busy man as lie was just starting or his office, "wait just a minute, please; I have two important questions I want to ask you." "I can't stop now, Marjorie," said her father, "I'm in a great hurry this morn "lt won't take you but just a minute to answer them, papa," pleaded Marjorie, "for you ahvavs know about every thing." "Well, what are they?" asked papa, not quite proof agaiust this flattery, though his hand was on the door-knob. "I knew you'd wait," said Marjorie in triumph, "and all I want you to tell me is how they make condensed milk and who were Abraham's forefathers, please?" "Ask your mamma, Marjorie," said her father as he tied from the house. STUNG TO SIIE QUICK. "Here, Bill, take this chair," said the : groccrymuu. "An' let you stand?" said the ens- 1 tomer. "I don't want ye to stand on my account a rainit." "Gettin' dreffio particular all to once, \ ain't ye?" said the groceryman. "I've knowed things to stand on your account over a year." And the outcome of the argument which followed was the transfer of Bill's account to the other store.—[Detroit Free Press. A LEGAL-MINDED HEIR. Dying Uncle—l intended bestowing my property upon you while I lived, but death has cut my purpose short. Nephew—Don't mention it, uncle, I'll gladly accept the will for the deed.— San Francisco Examiner. SOMETHING ADDITIONAL. "When (lie hoarding house mistress asked me how I liked tlie steak I told her i couldn't well express an opinion until I saw more of it." "What did she say to that?" "Nothing, only she gave me a lot of sauce additional." A USEFUL MEM nun. School Director—We have divided up the work of the board so that each of 'die members has a fair share to do. Higginson is secretary, I am treasurer and Proat is " Friend—Why, Proat is so deaf that he can't hear thunder. What does lie do? Director—Oh, all the complaints are referred to him. MINISTERIAL TRIBULATIONS. First Preacher— How much is ' your salary? Second Preacher (sorrowfully)—s4oo; but I don't get it. How much is yours? First Preacher (sadly)— Four dona tions; but I'm worse off than you are— I get them nil.—[Life. AN EXHAUSTING PLACE. Mistress—l am at a loss to understand your motive in leaving. Bridget—The work is too harrud, mum, and it's worn out I be entirely. Mistress—Why, I have done most of it myself. Bridget Yes, but it's worn out I be hearing vez tell me of it.—[Muusey's Weekly. THE BRUTE. She—l learned how to cook when I was in boarding school. He (sampling her cake) —And when did you forget? ENGLISH, AS SHE IS WRIT. Mamina -Johnny, what is a year? Johnny—Three hundred and sixty live days. Mamma—What is a day? Johnny—Twenty-four hours—and an hour's sixty minutes—and a minute's sixty seconds. Mamma—What is an instant? Johnny—An instant's a hole in the ground. Mannna—A hole in the ground? Why, how do you make that out? Johnny—My book says "the dog fell down in an instant."—[Light. TOO HASTY. "It breaks my heart to think of it." "What does?" "Old Bullion failed and I broke off my match with his daughter." "Well?" "It turns out Bullion had turned over all his property to his wife."—[Life. AFTER MANY YEARS, Mrs. O'Flaherity—Your sister has an other child, Pat. Mr. O'Flaherty—ls it a boy or a girl? "A Girl." "Huroo! I'm an aunt at last."—[Life. A MYSTERY F.XPLAINED. Doctor—What you need is more ex ercise. What business do you follow? Patient—l am a bricklayer. "Humph! I should think you would get all the exorcise you required, but your symptoms indicate that you are of a sedentary disposition." "Well, you sec, doctor, I work by the day." "Ah, that explains it."—[Texas Sift j ingß - LONESOME. The man who promptly pays his bills Is lonesome; | Who never felt the poor man's chills, Is lonesome; | Who can always meet his debts, j And who never, never bets, Who flirts not with the girls—the pets, Is lonesome, awfully lonesome. —[ Boston Herald. AND IIE DEPARTED. He had lingered long, and after a silence she remarked: "Do you know, I really believe papa thinks you're dead?" | "Why?" "Because he lias twice referred to you as the late Mr. Smith."—[Washington Post A SMALL MATTER. Mrs. Forundrid—Horrors! Half a dozen words in your note to Mrs. Society I are misspelled. j Miss Forundrid—Oh, that don't mat ■ ter. She can see by the coat-of-arras on . our stationery that we're all right.— i [New Yoik Weekly. T.AMU'S GIFT TO THE BURGLAR. I Lamb was awakened early one Christ mas morning by a noise in bis kitchen, and on going down to that department found a burglar doing his spoons up in a ! bundle. j "Why d-do you s-s-st-t-teal?" he asked. "Because I am starving," returned the i house-breaker, sullenly. ! "Arc y-you re-ro-rcally vcr-very li-h --, hung-hung-gug - gcry - hungry?" asked Lamb. I "Very," replied the burglar, turning I away. | "Pup-pup-poor fuf-fuf-fellow!" said the essayist. "11-here's a 1-1-leg of L-L- I.amb for you." And so saying, with a dexterous move j mont of his right leg he ejected the j marauder into the street and locking the i door securely, went back to bed. The ; burglar confessed afterward that he j didn't sec the joke for six weeks. [lTnr per's Magazine. A LUCKY GIRL. I Maud—Clara I lightly is just the luck- I iest girl. I Edith —She has many lovers? Maud—Ever so many, and she has ! only one little brother, and he was ! brought up in Paris, and doesn't know a word of English.—[New York Weekly. A WIFE'S SECOND HOME. "Is your wife back home now?" "Well, she is and she isn't. She's back but not at home. She's been living at the dressmaker's lately."—[Harper's Bazar. A WISE WOMAN. "I might remark," said the young man who had met with persistent and repeated refusals, "that you are one of the wisest young women I ever met." "Why?" "Because you seem to 'no* every thing."—| Washington Post. Lost Arts and Sciences. An old historian thus speaks of the early textile and other arts: "The textile and other arts which flourished in Egypt previous to the Jew ish dispensation and in which the Pha raohs took so lively an interest would undoubtedly have reached even a higher state of perfection than they did had they been allowed to continue under such favorable circumstances; but after the subjugation of the nation by Cam : byses, 525 years before our Saviour, the I arts and sciences, under a foreign yoke, ! disappeared, or rather ceased to be in j digenous in Egypt. The Ptolemies, in j deed, encouraged them; but under their : reigns the arts were chiefly controlled by the Grecians. The Egyptians had ! degenerated from the knowledge of their ancestors, whose hieroglyphics they themselves no longer understood."— [ Dry Goods Chronicle. An Illuminated Cat. I An illuminated cat is among the cu i riosities of the patent office at YVashing ! ton, 1). C. It is made of pasteboard or tin painted over with phosphorus and is i intended to frighten away "rats and mice and such small deer," in the dark ness of cellars and garrets.—[Chicago Times. BANK OF ENGLAND. THE GREATEST FINANCIAL IN STITUTION IN THE WORLD. The Story of Its Origin ancl Its Methods oZ Management—lts Nightly Guard of Thirty-six Soldiers. No financial institution in the world enjoys such a history or reputation as does the Bank of England. It owes its origin to a Scotchman, by name William Patterson, who also founded the Bank of Scotland, lie was a man of generous nature and lofty ideas. Iu founding this institution he proposed to relieve the embarrassment which continued to press upon the treasury for several years alter the revolution iu 108$ by raising, in shares, £1,200,000, the whole of which was to be loaned to the government at 8 I per cent., the lenders being incorporat ed as a joint stock company under the name and description of the Governor and Company of the Bank of England, with the privilege of keeping the ac counts of the public debt, paying divi dends, etc., for which an allowance of £4,000 a year was granted to them. This proposal having been accepted, the first bank charter passed in 1004, under the provision of a particular act of parlia ment. The bank commenced its business on the first day of January, 1005, at the Grocers' Hall in the Poultry. Sir John lloublon was the first governor, and Michael Godfrey the first denuty-gover | nor. Houbion was a French merchant whose father had lied from Flanders on the persecution of the duke of Alva. His | house was furnished in princely style, and he gave splendid entertainments which added much to his popularity. At the time of its founding the hank issued notes for £2O and upward, and discounted bills at ratss varying from 4J to 0 per cent. In 1090 there was a run on the bank which caused its temporary suspen sion, when its notes were at 20 per cent, discount. The capital was then increased to £2,201,171. In 1710 its capital was fur ther increased to £5,559,995, and other increases made from time to time since then, have brought the total capital to its present figure, £14,550,000. In 1704 the bank moved from the Poultry to Thrcadncedle street. The present building stands in four parishes, and is reared on the site of Sir John ' Houblon's house and many other build- I ings, including the church of St. Chris , topher Stocks, the burial ground of I which now forms the garden of the bank j and is known to every visitor to London. The general banking room opened to I the public is a spacious apartmcn and | modern in appearance. The visitor is I struck with the air of respectability and ! business pervading the entire place. Its j air is one of conservative solemnity and decorous activity, while the demeanor of its employees is saturated with formal propriety. The messengers and attend ants draw attention by their dress, which consists of a swallow-tailed coat of a delicate salmon color—with silver but tons—a flaming scarlet waistcoat, black | trousers, and u high silk lint. An order to view the directors' room and certain other parts of the building may be obtained on presentation of the card of any reputable banker lor mer . chant of the city. In the vaults below are to be seen the bullion which is the collateral for the notes, and bags of sov ereigns, and a large quantity of gold or naments, such as rings, bracelets and necklaces and coronots, the residue "f the Ashantee indemnity, much of the origi ' nal quantity of which has been melted down and coined. The first issue of ten-pound notes was | made in 1759. In 1798 the five-pound : notes were issued, and in 1797 notes of 1 £1 and £2 were circulated, but in 1884 j the bank relinquished the issue of all ! notes under £5. These Bank of England notes are a legal tender everywhere in j the United Kingdom, but at its own | counter, where, upon demand, they arc required to be paid in gold. They are the safest pieces of paper in the world, j as under any circumstances the bank J could pay every one in circulation (with gold) without touching one pound of its capital. The bank is managed by a board of twenty-four directors. Eight go out of office every year, and eight come in. | When the period of electiou draws near , the directors make out a house list of the , names of those they wish to have as col leagues, and the house list is uniformly ; voted. The directors each receive for their services the sum of £SOO per year, i The present governor is Mr. William I Lidderdale, whose salary is £I,OOO. The deputy governor, Mr. * Powell, j also receives £I,OOO. Mr Frank May, I the chief cashier, is well kuown the' world over by his signature on the bank notes. At the present time no notes of a higher denomination than £I,OOO are is sued. The paper of which these notes 1 are made is produced at a special fac- j factory in Hampshire. Something like j 15,000 reams are annually supplied to | j the bank, each ream costing about £l. j The dies by which the water marks are I made and the plates used for printing j I are manufactured at the hank. A nurn- j her of counterfeits have appeared and ! j been discovered at various tunes, but the spuriousness of the best of them is appar ent at a glance or a touch. The penalty for counterfeiting is very heavy, and added to this fact the vigilance of the detectives connected with the bank, few criminals have courage enough to exer cise their forging ingenuity. At the j present time no forged notes arc known to be in circulation. In 1824 the amount of gold in the vaults amounted to £14,142,000, the largest sum that had ever been held up to that time. During the pauic of 1825 the demand for gold was enormous. Every effort was made to procure gold at any price. Meantime, the accumula tion of the bank had drifted away ow ing to the turn in foreign exchanges, and before the middle of December the hank, which at the beginning of tin; year had upwards of £14,000,000 in gold, had but £1,000,000 left. The mint worked day and night, but as fast as sovereigns appeared they disappeared again. Such was the then condition of affairs that the ministry was actually consulted as to the best manner of an nouncing that the bank had stopped payment. But a mere trifie occurred ! which changed the aspect of things, and I by which the run for gold was stopped. | It was simply the production of some old £1 notes, which a clerk happened to I recollect were in some parcels in the i library, which had been signed before I the passing of the act for their with | drawal. These notes were brought out J and issued to the country banks and bankers, who passed them upon the public in lieu of gold. In November, 1889, tnc reserve for the bank was £3,141,188. At that time the notes in circulation represented £25,268.- 180. Notes unemployed, £11,012,070. The amount of bullion on hand it the close of the week ending November 18, 1890, was £18,821,507. The total divi dends for the past year were at the rate of 10 per cent. The present price of of the bank stock is £345 per share. The custom of quartering soldiers in the bank building over night has been in vogue since the Lord George Gordon riots. The guard consists of thirty-six men, and they may be seen every eveniug at 0 o'clock marching up to the bank from the tower. All the clerksof the institution are re quired to be punctually at their places. To prevent any tardiness a fine of £1 is imposed on late comers, and it not un frequently happens that delayed out-of town clerks are oft-times obliged to take a cab and drive post haste to the bank to insure their being on time. A story is told of one of the Roths -1 childs, who, wishing to test the bank, " sent a messenger with a check for £IOO,- 000 ($500,000), payable 1 'to bearer," which was presented at the counter for j payment. The bank refused the money j and the result was that in less than ten minutes' time a notice was posted in the banking room of the Rothschilds to say that the Bank of England had suspended payment. The notice created much ex citement and alarm. As soon, however, as news was received at the bank, word was sent to the Rothschilds to say that their check would be paid, and the notice forthwith came down.—[New York Com mercial Advertiser. OUR EARLIEST COINS. The Famous Hog Money Succeed t j Wampum, Musket Balls, Etc. , The earliest coinage for America was i that made iu 1612 for the Yirgiuia Com- I pany, at the Somers Islands, now called I Bermudas. The coin was of brass, with i the legend, "Sommcr Island," and a ' hogge on one side, in memory of the abundance of hogges which were found on their first lauding." This was the famous "hog money.'' The earliest colonial coinage was in Massachusetts in 1652, a "Mint liowse" being established at Boston, and the "quoines" being a shilling, sixpence and threepenny piece. Before this the cur rency of the colonists was a very mixed ouc. Musket balls passed for change at a farthing apiece, and were legal tender for sums under a shilling. Tobacco and tobacco receipts were legal tender; corn and beans and codfish were also employed. Wampum, how ever, was "the commonest currency of all. It was the shell-bead money of the Ind ians, and was soon accepted by the colo nists as a convenient token. There were two kinds of wampum— -1 wampumeag, which was white and made ; from the conch or periwinkle; and suck anhock, which was dark purple and made from the hard shell clam. The ' purple was worth twice as much as the : white. The shell was broken in pieces, rubbed smooth on a stone till about the thickness of a pipe stem, then pierced with a drill and strung into necklaces, i bracelets and belts. The English, French and Dutch set tlers al used wampum, the value being fixed in 1040 at six beads for a penny. ! The strings were called fathoms, and i varied in value from five to ten shillings. Shell money has played quite au import ant part in the world's commerce. The : small hard shell kuown as the cowry, is ; still used in India, the ludian islands 1 and Africa in place of subsidiary coin. | In 1851 more than 1,000 tons of these j shells were brought from India to Liver j pool, to be exported to the coast of Af | rica in exchange for palm oil. In Ben • gal they are worth 82,000 to the rupee ! (46 cents), or about seventy to the cent. ' The cowry is a gnsteropod mollusk, is j beautifully marked, and is strung on a j tough grass string lor convenience of transportation. The British Columbia Indians still use a variety of wampum made of haiqua shells. These they string up and use as an ornamental border to dresses, their currency value being one string for a heaver's skin. Looking back to the pre wampum days, it is learned that of the Aboriginal money of the American continent, the j mounds in and adjoining the valley of the Mississippi have produced specimens ' of lignite, coal, bone, terra cotta, mica, pearl, cnrnelian, chalcedony, agate, jas , per, gold, silver, copper, lead and iron, which were fashioned into forms evinc ; ing considerable skill and art. Accord ; ing to Prescott the money of the Aztecs ' and the nations in kin consisted of quills ! filled with gold dust and bags of choco late grains. Chocolate is still used in the interior of South America for the 1 same purpose, as are eocoanuts and eggs. TIIE project of building a Buddhist ! temple in New York city is revived; but i the leading Buddhists are still opposed jto it. One of them said: "We know j that there are believers enough in this j city to erect a temple that would rival in magnificence any in India, but the result I would be to raise the cry that wo were j worshiping idols ami to provoke perse- I cution. The Buddhist worship is con j templation. We do not need a temple i for that. The true Buddhist temple is i the body, purified by fasting and kept j clean by chastity. One of tho rules of : the Buddhists is not to seek to make pros ! elytes, so that we need no temple for i preaching in the style of your revivalists. We believe that when the time lias come for a man to be a Buddhist, ho is then enlightened without any effort on our part. He seeks for us; we do not try to convert him. Your question as to the increase of Buddhism in this country is often asked me. The increase is wonderful—almost miraculous. As we i have no central meeting place and no re ligious directory, the Buddhists cannot he counted; but if you will take the trouble to ask every man you meet to day whether he believes in Buddhism or theosophy you will be astounded at the replies. Buddhism is a universal religion, and it spreads faster in Christian coun tries than in any other when once under stood, because it embraces Christ—who was himself a preacher of Buddhist doc trines. in our estimation." Music in the Hebrides. An account of the musical instru ments used by the natives of the New Hebrides, primitive savages who still eat human flesh, has been given by two French military men, Dr. A. Hagen and Lieut. A. Pineau. Hollow tree trunks— those described being some eight or ten eet high—are provided with apertures connected by a long vertical slit, and at the upper part arc ornamented with sculptures representing heads, feet, war clubs and ships. By striking each of the truuks with a stick, the natives pro duce somewhat cadenced sounds resem bling those of the tom tom. They pcr onntheir dances to the sound of these instruments. The savages have also a sort of trumpet made of shell perforated at the side or extremity; a syrinx with six, seven or eight pipes, from which they sometimes obtain harmonious i sounds; and a long flute perforated at the lower extremity and consisting of a single piece of bamboo with three holes and a mouthpiece. These three instru ments. however, are used only within doors to amuse the children.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers