The French press is fuming glori. ously.against the United States, and is furious against England, which has blocked, once for all, tho chances of a European coalition against tho United States. The Swiss canton of Ncuenburg has sanctioned a plan for a universal life insurance in which all the natives over eighteen years old may partici pate. In case of death, a sum vary ing from 1000 to 5000 francs is to be paid to the heirs. The Hong Kong Press tells of a professional beggar who has built quite a fine three-story tea-house just outside the South Gate. As the ouly three-story building in the city, it is an object of great pride to the natives, whose charity helped so largely in its erection. A Berlin paper has ascertained that intoxication by means of ether has be- I come almost epidemic in Lithuania, ! owing to the fact that ether is cheaper than brandy and less of it is needed to get drunk on. Many families have ! beeu ruined by the habit, which has ' also found victims even among school 1 children. = Fifty years ago there were few per- i sons employed or gaining a livelihood j by the utilization of electric energy. ! Now in Europe and America there are more than a million—very likely two millions in the world. In 1827 George Stephenson started his first railway train possibly with a dozen employes. Now in the United States there are nearly 800,000 railroad workers. Amherst, Mass., with a population of 4800 has a public library of 70,000 , volumes, which is open to all comers 1 for thirteen hours every day. In ad dition, the citizens have also access to the college library, of 19,000 vol umes, and to two other free libraries, containing 7600 and 2300 volumes re spectively. Only ton towns in tho State of Massachusetts are now with out free public libraries. Little John Victor Thompson was born under a whole constellation of Ineky stars. His first pieoe of good fortune was in being horn in Chicago. He could not have made a wiser hoice of a birthplace. His second morsel, or, rather, large mouthful, of good fortune came when he was adop ted by the Thursday Club. Thirty nine young ladies, each of whom has piu money to spare, were looking about for some charitable work to do. They saw young Thompson and adopted him. They will send him to school, perhaps to college, and start him on an honorable career. Thirty nine mothers! That is a privilege which very few hoys enjoy, and John Victor knows it. According to the Boston Traveler recent events point to the falling be hind of the Latin races in the march of civilization. Old abuses with them seem to linger, abuses which have been stamped out long since by their sturdier Saxon brethren. Franco in the Zola trial has shown the world defects in her judicial and administra tion systems that the English trial by jury would not have permitted even two centuries ago. Spain, in attempt ing to crush Cuba, shows the same crude methods which disgraced Alva in the Netherlands. In the desire for better observance of international law and freedom of trade, too, our Latin brothers seem to be sadly lacking. If recent events count for anything, they seem to point to the future supremacy of the Anglo-Saxon. There is a common notion that Amer ica is tho only country in which there has been a vapid growth of cities. The Americans are so accustomed to consider that their country is in al] respects vastly superior to all others that they give very little attention to what is done elsewhere. Bat the de" sire of human beings to crowd together in cities is one of the striking pecular ities of the present age, and, as a re. suit, there has beeu au enormous growth of cities in every country. Take, for instance, the city of Berlin. In 1858 it had about 440,900 popula tion. In 1898 its jropulation is 1,500,- 000. In 1861 the population of Liver pool, including Birkenhead, on the opposite side of the river Mersey, was about 550,000. In ISB9 it was 940,- 000 and to-day is over one million souls. The city of London is another interesting example. In 1861 the population embraced in the registrar general's district was 2,000,000 and n little over. In the same district, in 1896, the census showed 4,411,000. It would bo difficult, even in the United States, to find more rapid growth of the population of cities than tba* stated above; but it is more the taie than the exception. JT.cv nro slaves •who fonr to speak For the fallen and the weak. They are slaves who will not chocsb Hatred, scoffing and abuse Father than in silence shrink From the truth they need must think; They are slaves who dare not bo In tiie light with two or throe. I A LAWYER'S SECRET. 1 © ® 33y G. MANVILLE FENN. Of cases in II my pr ofession? I*l I wM| J- Oh, yes, plenty. I ' I j often smile to my- K —V self whon I find the novelist taking ffc&L f u ? °' c^fami| ? ' n_ in |w 1i( | ing them up into I ill /V J stories ; then X. I jet "| I think of what KJ Ci 111 1 yVv,. plots I could have ill if they t|j\ had not been fam (Vl t ily secrets of a JV, private and tlior- IX I oughlyconfidential \ - ' character. I remember one ~~ J rase that, changing C'~ thenames,itwillbe no particular breach of confidence to mention, and I tell it the more frankly because it is a little against myself, and I must own that I did not act qnite upon what is called the square. In fact, I played a part—a negative kind of part—for I did nothiug else but hold my tongue. If I bad spoken, it| would have fifty thousand pounds or so out of a truly honest man's pocket and into a roguo's; so, somehow, I let my feelings get the better of my professional conscience, and I said not a word. I was old John Hendricks's solicitor, and looked after bis property, for I bad known him when he was a strug gling man and I was a young lawyer with none too much practice. Then I lost sight of him for twenty years, at the end of which time I was still plodding along respectably, just hold ing my own and nothing more, when, going into one of the city taverns for my regular daily chop, which I ate at the same table for so many years that I had become one of the institutions of the place, I found myself opposite to a yellow-looking, thin, gray-haired man, who kept on looking up from his plate to stare at me very rudely I thought. I did not reseut his stare at first, but at last it became so unpleasant that I determined to look him down, and I gazed firmly into his eyes. "Why, it is!" he exclaimed. "Dick, old boy, don't you know me?" "That's Jack Hendricks's voice," I exclaimed, nearly upsetting my plate; and the next moment we were sitting there, hand clasped in hand, and with the tears in our eyes, looking very foolish and weak, I dare say, to the other occupants of the room; but that did not trouble us, for we had too much to say to each other. John Hendricks told me that he had been in the north of India, close to Nepaul, for over twenty years. He had gone out as a factor to an indigo grower, and bad become a grower himself. "And now," he said, "I have oomo to look after my dead sister's sons and —to die." "Well, old fellow,"I said, "the first part's right enough, but as to the dy ing, I think it's as well to leave that alone. It will be all settled for you. The only thing with respect to that, speaking as a professional man, is to make your will, if you have anything to leave, and then make the most of your span." "Have you made yours, Dick?" he said sharply. "I? No," I said laughing. "I've nothing to leave, Jack;" and then we went into mutual tonfidences; and after I had told him of my own hard working life, he gave me to under stand that he had made a very large fortune in indigo, and spent very little on himself. "Mine's been too hard-working a life, Dick," he said, "for mo to be much of a spender; but it will be a fine thing for Jenny's two boys if—if I like them," he added sharply. And then, with a quiet, subdued look, "Poor Jenny! I should have liked to see her again." John Hendricks was fifteen years my senior, but we became once more the closest of friends, for ho seemed to resume his old protective way over me, hut trusting me most fully in every point. It was all done in a quiet, unosten tatious way, but from the day of John Hendricks's return the world began to smile on me. I had a great deal of professional business to do for him, and as ho had most extensive connec tions among old indigo planters, I found them coming to me, right and left, by bis recommendation; so that very soon, in place of finding it hard work to keep one clerk, I bad very bard work for four, and a big balance at my bank. But I am getting on too fast. Before long I met the two nephews at their uncle's quiet little house at Chelsea, and as we sat at dinner I could not help thinking how kindly fortune was behaving to the young men to place them in the way of such expectations; and before I left it was plain enough to me which was the un cle's favorite. This was Philip, a frank-faced young fellow of two or three-and- I twenty, very gentlemanly in his ways, and decidedly good-looking, while he FREEDOM. Is true freodon but to break Fetters for our own dear sake, And, with leathern hearts, forget That we owomankind a debt? No! true freedom is to share All the chains our brothers wear, And with heart and hand to be .. Earnest to make others free. —James liusseil Low® was full of anecdote, aud, without seeming to be toadying, full of atten tion to the old man, to the old man, to whose dogmatic speeches he list ened with the greatest deference. For old John had grown terribly dogmatic. He had had the management of hundreds of poor ryots for so many years that ho felt quite a king in his way, and would bully aud snub ovory one whon his liver was a little worse than usual—everyone, that is, except me, for whenever he was out of tem per he never would speak to mo, but nod and shako his head, and smoke his chillum till ho felt more at ease. Samuel was the very opposite of his brother, being a short, thiok-set, plain fellow, with only one good fea ture —or ought that to bo two?—iu his face, and that his eyes, which wero, for a man, beautiful, and, best of all, in their steady, honest look, which never seemed to blanch or have anything to fear. Time went on, and at John Hen drioks's wish I took Philip a a articled clerk. "Let him be a lawyer," said my old friend; "not a barrister, but a lawyer, a family solicitor, who knows the value of property and how to manage it, for —iu confidence, Dick, do you hear?" I nodded. "You may charge for it, if you like; I mean to make that boy my heir, but don't tell him." "I don't tell what my clients say to me," I said. "No, you dry, old wooden box," he said, chuckling; "I never met with such a snuffy, reticent old humbug as you've grown." "Well, if I had not, you wouldn't have made me your solicitor," I said, grimly. "Perhaps not, Dick; perhaps not, old fellow; but we should have beeu friends all the same; hut dou't give Phil the slightest hint of what I mean to do for him. Let him work, and get to be a clever, shrewd man of business. I hate an empty dandy. Let him learn the worth of money be fore he gets it. God bless him! he's exactly like poor Jenny." "Aud how about Sam?" I said in my gruff, repellent way. "Let him stop where he is, and sell tea and tea-dust, and make his money out of tho chests," he said, in a hard, harsh manner that I did not like. "But you'll leave him as much as you leave his brother?" I said. "That I won't, Dick. He's my sis ter's boy, bat 1 don't like him. He's his father over again—the father who behaved badly to poor Jenny,andbroke her heart. He was a gambler, and thought only of himself. Poor girl! she made a sad mistake, but let that rest." "Well, I don't know," I said. "I think you are misjudgiug Sam. I be liovo him to ho a very frank, honest fellow." "Bosh! Don't tell me, sir. I can read character. I haven't lived to sixty-eight for nothing, sir. The fel low never shows me a bit of deferenefe. He's rough and independent, and bul lies bis brother just as that scoundrel, his father, did my poor sister Jenny. I don't like him." Now I, too, had studied character a little, and I knew enough of John Hendricks to see that I should be doing uo good by fighting ou Samuel's behalf, but I made it my business a few days later to ask him to call upon me; aud during the interview the opiuion I had already formed was strengthened. "No, Mr. Brown," he said warmly, "I can't do it. I don't say but what if my uncle left me some money I should be glad of it, for—for I am thinking of getting married, sir; but my uuele does not like me. He has taken a prejudice against mo because lie says I am exactly like my dead father, aud I cau't help that, of course." "But you might try to humor him a little, and let him see that you don't deserve his—l am sure—wrong opin ion." "Thank you for that, Mr. Brown," ho exclaimed, and his eyes looked soft and subdued; "but I could not do it, sir. I never would toady to any one for the sake of the money that might come, and if I were to go there trying to please my uuele, be would only de spise me for it. My poor mother taught me, Mr. Brown, and I have never forgotten her teachings." I found before long that John Hen dricks was thoroughly in earnest, for he sent for me one day to take instruc tions to make his will; but I eoulil not help laying down my pen when I found that he intended to leave the whole of his property, save some trilling legacies to servants and others, to his younger nephew, Philip Hems ley. "Now," I said, "is this fair?" "Sir," ho said, "you are now my professional man." "Adviser," I said, correcting] him; "and I advise you to do your duty by your nephews by leaving them equal shares." "I'll do nothing of the kind," he said. "I'll leave it all to Philip." I argued and fought, and the result wr.s tliat lie let me put down two thou sand pounds for Sam; but the great property of a hundred and odd thou sand pounds, well invested, was loft to Phil. "Now, Dielc," said the old fellow chuckling, "those hoys will be sure to ask you if you have any will of mine,and I want to humbug them; so we'll de posit this at the banker's, and then if they ask yon if you have my will, you can say 'No.'" Everything was done as he wished, and the will placed at the banker's; And though, during the next five years I tried hard to get the old man to make a fresh one, he grew more obstinate than ever, shutting his eyes blindly to the character of his nephews; and all I could do was to let matters take their coarse. It was a bad course for Philip Hems lcy, who was, in a quiet,secretive way, a regular scamp—his father over again. He was very clever and shrewd as a lawyer, and got on well when he stuck to it, and this pleased the old man, to whom he was devotedly atten tive; while poor Sam seemed to be come more and more estranged, though a better and truer-hearted fellow never married a pure, sweet little woman like an angel, who poured out tea for a grim old fellow. I was often at his snug little home, and, after trying in vain to make things better for him with his rich uncle, I came to the conclusion that they would be no happier for the money, so I let matters slide. 'Two thousand will be a nice nest egg for them," I thought, "so per haps all is for the best." As I have said, Phil became a shrewdish fellow in the law, and passed his examination pretty well, so that he knew what he was about in legal matters; and one day he proved the truth of his uncle's prophecy by saying to me suddenly. "My uncle is far from well, Mr. Brown. Have you got his will?" "No," I said, so shortly that he turned upon his heel and went away. About a month later I wa3 with my old friend, and felt shocked at the change, for it was evident that he was not much longer for this world. He had sent for me, and I was in hopes that he meant to alter his will, and I was right. "What a while you have been com ing," he said querulously. "I wanted you so badly, Hick." "I came on directly, old fellow," I said, kindly. "Here, let me put you a little more easy." "Thank ye, Hick," he said, "but it's all over. That boy has killed me. Hid ho ask you if you had my will?" "Yes, about a month since, and I said 'No."' "I knew it, Hick; I knew it," he said, pitifully; "and ever since he has been worrying me to let him make my will. Hick, old friend, I've made a big mistake, There, there, don't jump upon me. I—l confess it all. I thought he was his mother's boy, he was so like her; but—but he has his father's spirit and his ways to the very bone." "I am glad you have awakened to the truth," I said. "You should have advised me bet ter," he retorted querulously, "Should I, Jack?" "No, no; you did, Hick. I've only just found out wliat an old fool I am, my dear boy. M'e have quarrelled terribly, that boy and 1, for I have found him out, in spite of his smooth tongue. He's a scamp, l villain—a gambler, and in debt terribly. He has half killed me, Hick, and— and——" I tore at the bell, as the poor old fellow seemed about to have a fit, for the terrible emotion he had suffered at what must have been the rooting up of his most cherished belief in his sister's child had proved, in his weak state, to be more than ho could bear. The doctor was sent for, and at the end of an hour John Hendricks was so far reoovercd that he whispered my name, and I, sitting down beside him, heard him in a whisper say,— "Hraw up my will quickly. A just one." "I don't think ho will ever recover sufficiently to sign," said the doctor, "He has driven it too late, Mr. Brown." The doctor was right, for my poor old friend never recovered his senses, but quietly breathed his last a few hours later. The funeral followed in due form, and I was there, both as old friend and solicitor, to meet the very small party who went to the grave. Sam was there, of course, making no indecorous show of sorrow, while his brother sobbed aloud over the grave; but he had a good deal recov ered when we assembled afterward in the dining-room of my old frien.l's house, his fow friends wondering whether he had remembered them in his will, nbout which subject I heard a whisper going round tliat none had been left, I suppose that it was from a feeling of importance, perhaps moro from an unwillingness to wound poor Sam Hemsley and his young wife by letting them hear the unjust will, that I did not hurry myself to produce it, though I don't think they anticipated much. But all at once, to my utter astonish ment, Philip rose, coughed to clear his husky voice, and said quietly: "1 presume you all know how much I have of late been in my uncle's con fidence, so that you will not be sur prised that, as I was by his wish a solicitor, lie should have entrusted to me the making of his will." I am a man of the world, but for the j moment I was knocked off my balance. ! Then I was about to exclaim, as I saw him bring forth the document: "Why, yon scoundrel, you have forged a will!" Fortunately for Sam, I recovered myself, and sat with my old friend's genuine will buttoned up beneath my coat, while, with the calmest audacity. the rascal road out the document that, as a lawyer, he had cleverly forged. I saw it nil now. He had asked mo if I had his uncle's will, and I bad said no. He must have searched the old man's papers and found none, and, feel ing safe, Philip had forged a will in his own favor, and artfully, too, mak ing one about which tbeie could be no dispute; for he provided legacies to friends, and the residue, which proved to be over a hundred thousand pounds, in equal moieties to his nephews, Samuel and Philip Hemsley. I sat and laughed to myself as I heard him read this piece of forgery, which was all in due form, clever from the man's cunning in contenting him self with half, knowing that if the will were otherwise it might have been dis puted, when now it would be taken a9 perfection; and there, all the time, I sat with the genuine will in my pocket, from which he was cutting himself oij by this act, while I rejoiced to think how the villain wa3 being forced as it were by fate to do justice to his brother Sam. What would you have done—given the scoundrel iu.o custody as a forger, made a terrible upset, aud caused no end of trouble about the property? Perhaps you would. I did not, for' I went home, after satisfying myself that the false will was in due form, and destroyed the real one. Yes, I know what you will say—that it was a felonious act, and that 1 ought to have been struck off the rolls. Perhaps I ought to have been, but I pondered on the fact that, instead of the whole hundred thousand pounds going to a villain who would stoop to forge, half of it went to a truly deserv ing man; so I left the punishment to higher powers thau those of man, and kept my secret, which is a secret still, for I have ouly given fictitious names, SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL. A bar of soft metal is used on Bres den electric lines instead of the trollej wheel, and is claimed to wear the wir" less aud to be more convenient. A remarkable object that "rather resembles some obscuring medium than a nebula," is the unique discov ery in the constellation of Perseus lately made by Bev. T. E. Espin. It has been discovered that the de posits of gilsonite—a species of asphalt —found in Utah will yield a substance which can be used to paint ships' bot toms, and which will protect them from corrosion, seaweed, and bar nacles in a remarkable degree. The Medical Hepartment of the French War Office has just published some medical statistics of the army during the year 1895. The total num ber of admissions to infirmary and hospital is given as 313,579, answer ing to a general sickness-rate of 631 per 1000 efficients. German figures credit various woodJ with the following heating capacities: Einden, 1; fir, 0.99; elm and pine, 0.98; willow, che3tuut'aud larch, 0.97; maple and spruce, 0.90; black poplar, 0.95; alder and white birch, 0.94; oak, 0.92; locust aud white beech, 0.91; and red beech, 0.90. Modern scien tific research gives us another sur prise in the showing that the soft woods have greater heating power than the hard. The mud from coal washing is util ized by a Friedrichsthal engineer. He finds the mud to consist of two por tions—one being chiefly clay and jthe other particles of coal—an?t he sepa rates them by drying and sifting, the clay passing through as flue dust, while the fine coal is retained by the sieve. The coal contains little ash aud is adapted for various purposes, while the separated dust has proven not wholly useless. Tho new form of incandescent elec tric lamp recently devised by Pro fessor Nernst, in which magnesium oxide is used instead of a carbon fila ment, requires that the conductor should first be heated by either a Bun seu flame or the spark from an induc tion coil. Professor Nernst proposes to embod a certain filament in the rod of magnesium oxide which will afford a path for the current when the rod is cold and communicate heat to the sur rounding material so as to raise it to the conducting temperature at which light is emitted. First Ma;> to ltrnr "Alaska." The map of James Cook, 1778, was the first to bear the name "Alaska," which was a corruption of the India Al-ak-shack, or "Endless Land." The United States began to treat with Russia for the acquisition of Alaska under Presidents Polk (1845 to 1849) and Buchanan (1857 to 1801), and the matter was opened again in 1860 by Seward, who was then Secretary of State, and closed the transaction on March 31, 1807, Russia ceding all claim to Alaska for the consideration of $7,200,000. A Pupil'* Impurirnt Impromptu. In a public school of Olympia, Wash., where pupils are asked occa . sionally for impromptu poetical reci tations, one reluctant boy recently ordered to show his ability at rhym ing for the benefit of the School Board's visitors astounded all pres ent, and secured punishment for him self later by declaiming: God, 01 God, supremo on high, Look down on tills committee, Who chose such fools to teach our schools In this our capital city. Speaker Heed's Little Joke. Speaker lteed recently wished to see a political friend on some very im portant business and telegraphed him to come at once to Washington. The friend took the first train, but a wash out on tho road soon stopped him. Going to a telegraph office he sent this message: "Washout on tho line; can't come," to which in due time he re ceived the following reply from the Maine statesman: "Buy a new shirt and oorne anyway." AGRICULTURAL TO?;CC. Tim Broody Hon. | When the hen is broody, remove i her to a new and clean nest at night | fall, and put someehiua nest eggs un der her, tind darken the nest by plac ing a cloth or board in front of lier. If she sits quietly r.ll day, it will bo safe enough to put tho clutch of eggs I under her the next night. Feed her only dry food while sit ting, and always have fresh water where she can get it when she comes off. While she is off, see that the I eggs are all right, and if any have been I broken in the nest, it may be neces sary to wash the others, as anything which closes the pores kill:: the chicken. The Life of Bench Tree*. It is an almost universal complaint that peach trees do not last as long as they used to do. Wc do not believe that this is on account of the weather, because late wiuters Certainly havo not been so destructive as many that occurred thirty to forty years ago. Tne increase of borers and of fungous diseases, in which we include the yel ! lows, are, we think, mainly responsi j l)le for the change. By keeping j borers out an.l dressing heavily with I potash manures, peach trees may be 1 made much longer lived than they j used to be. One of the secrets of the longevity of old-time peach trees was that they were never severely pruned, and never produced heavy crops. The old-time thirty-year-old peach trees had a tall trunk with very little top.— Boston Cultivator. Tho Gladioli!o. I Y*bftt the geranium is to the living ! room window-garden, the gladiolus is | to the outdoor garden. Such a display j us I have had of this flower this sea | son! I planted several hundred bulbs among the border plants, and for a | month past people have been stop ping to stare at and admire my free i flower show. And it has been worth 1 coming a long way to see, I assure you! It seems as if every bulb has put up from two to four flower stalks, : and such colors! Scarlets, crimsons, 1 pinks, lilacs, mauves, cherries, eai i mines, violets, yellows, in endless I shades and combinations. Xo two stalks seem to give flowers alike. I ; can't help wondering if the milliners did not get some ideas here for their ! daring color combinations for hate and | bonnets. Xo two plauts were just alike as to flower, it seemed. We cut the great stalks laden with gorgeous i bloom for tall vases in the house, for church decoration, and for gifts to friends, but the supply seemed inex haustible.—Eben E. Kexford, in How to Grow Flowers. Ventilating a Burn Basement. Luther Hoffman, of New Jersey, writes: I have a basement that covers 32x85 feet. This winter I have forty eight head of cows in it that I aui milking aud feeding. I have no trou ble concerning ventilation. Basement is eight feet high. The north side is banked nearly to top of wall. There are two driveways and at the end of each I have small windows which I can drop from the top. When I laid , the foundation I used three-inch round | tile pipe every six to eight feet just ' under the sill. These need not bo ! closed except in case of a blizzard. On the west end there are large win -1 flows, but I seldom open them, the pipes furnishing enough air. On the south I have double sash : windows. The top sash is hung with I weights so I can drop them from one inch to two feet, according to the I weather. Tho front is all windows ! except the spaoo occupied by doors. I also have three hay chutes, which ex i tend from stables out through tho j roof. These I open or close according to weather. When cattle can bo out all day, I often leave all ventilators ! open and sprinkle the wet spots with . fresh slaked lime. The Bell Glußft In tho Garden, j The advantage gained by the use ot j bell glasses over melon and cucumber ! vines is gradually gaining recognition | in this country, where it bids fair to be of greater service even than in foreign countries where it hns long been practiced. To ripen a niusk j melon in August in our northern states is a feat not often accomplished, |or even in early September. How ever this has and can be done if na i ture is thus assisted: A twelve-inch bell glass placed directly over the hill | at planting time has a two-fold advau ! tage; that of hastening germination j and preventing the rotting of seeds in 1 rainy weather. As soon as tho seed- I lings appeal' the glass must bo raised I gradually; those which I have in mind I ultimately resting upon common ! bricks turned on edges. These form aa excellent support. Three bricks to a glass leave ample space for the vinos ;to run out—a privilege quickly availed | of. Daily watering is of course in order save in cloudy weather. An idea of the difference in growth may perhaps bo best obtained by notes taken July 15, '97. Side by side aro four hills of cucumbers planted on the same date. Twelve-inch bell glasses were placed over two of the hills and gradually raised as described. A growth of two feet only had been made by the open air plants against five in tho glass capped hills. With such strong sun-stored root-growth melons can but steal a march on the ordinary cantaloupe calendar. Other glass devices may perhaps be less ex pensive and answer the purpose a3 well.—G. A. Woolson, of Vermont. Clothes More Important Than Benutj A straugo girl recently came to Atchison as a bride. "Is sho good looking?" we asked au Atchison wom an who had seen her. "I didn't notice," the woman replied, "but she is well dressed."—Atchison Globe. An act of Congress in 1572 abol ished hogging in the navy. THE MEBEY SIDE OF LIFE. STORIES THAT ARE TOLD CY THE FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. riio A?e of Germ—Oatlaßsrd—Most Acute—A Wiihto of MonoyComforts Cost—Open to Doubt— I'tipnrdonublc— Equal to tlio Oceuslon—l'roolf Lie. Little Miss Muffot But ou a tuffet, Latins of curds nu.l whey; A microbe espied her And slipped down inside her, And she had influenza next day. —Cincinnati Enquirer. A Woinnn'o lleason. "Poor Mollie has lost her reason." "That oughtn't to worry a woman. She can say 'because.' " —lndianapolis Journal. Most Acute. She—"Yes, it is tho province of woman to suffer in silence." He—"ln silence? That must be suffering, indeed."—Cincinnati En quirer. Outclassed. Tho Rejected One—"l have a rival, then?" The Girl—"Hardly that. I have promised to marry him."—Philadel phia North American. Geography Up to Date. "Tell the class what an island is, Sammy." "Yes'm; an island is a body of land surrounded by United States battle ships."—Chicago Record. Open to Doubt. Simpkius—"l thought you said Breezy was wedded to the truth?" Timkins—"So I always thought." Simkins—"Well, if he ever was, he's a widower now." —Tit-Bits. Comforts Cunt. "Wouldn't you prefer to live in an apartment with an elevator; it raises one so quickly?" "Yes, but not nearly so quickly as it raises the rent."—Brooklyn Life. ImpitMHlonetl. First Deaf-Mnte— "Ho wasn't so very angry, was he?" Second Deaf-Muto—"He was so mad that the words lie used almost blistered his lingers."—lndianapolis Journal. Imaginary Danger*. Nervous Old Lady (to deck hand) — "Mr. Steamboatmau, is there any fear of danger?" Deck Hand (carelessly)—" Plenty of fear ma'am, but not a bit of dunger." —Harlem Life. Energy. Jobson—"Just see how hard Dob son is working r.t beating that carpet." Mrs. Jobson—"l'es. Mrs. Dobson sets him at work at something of the kind just after he reads the war news in the paper."—Brooklyn Life. l'oHge*Beil. Mr. Dukaue—"l couldn't sleep a wink last night." Mr. Gaswell—"You had insomnia, I suppose?" Mr. Dukane—"Xo; insomnia had me." —Pittsburg Chronicle Telegraph. Proof. Minnie—"What frauds these beg gars are. I met a 'blind' man who said, 'Pler.se give mo a peuuy, beauti ful lady.' " Mamie—"Yes, he said that to make you think he really was blind."—ln dianapolis Journal. A Wntte of Money* Mrs. Homespuu—"What did the doctor say was the matter with you, Silas?" Silas—"l fergit what he called it." Mrs. Homespun—"D'ye mean to •ay you paid him $- and didn't git no good out of it?"— Truth. U npartlonable. "My wife and her neighbor nsod to be inseparable, bat they don't speak now." "What's the trouble?" "She persuaded my wife to buy a silk gown that turned out to bo part cotton."—Detroit Free Press. Equal to tho Oceanian. He—"They say dreams go by con traries. Do yon believe it?" She—"Yes, I think they do." He—"Alas, I dreamed last night that you had promised to be my wife." She—"And I dreamod that I had refused you."—Chicago News, Woman's Wiles. "What a hold Maud seems to have/ on all her rejected suitors." "Why shouldn't she, tho artful thing? She always tells a man. when she refuses him, that she is afraid to marry a handsome man, because she would be so jealous."—Cincinnati En quirer. Ills Memory Sure to Live. Beagle—"Old Foxlcy ia dead. He'll be long remembered by tho people of this town." Splits—"Why, did ho leave many publio bequests?" Beagle—"He left debts to the amount of $50,000." —Boston Tran script. An Eve to Itiiiluess. Optioiau—"My dear sir, your case is hopeless." Customer—"And am I doomed to blindness?" Optician—"lt is inevitable. I think you'd better look at my beautiful line of artificial eyes at oueo."—Jowclers' Weekly. Justice Without Mercy. "Seems to me I've seen your face before," said the Judge, peering through his spectacles. "Yes, your Honor; you have," re plied the prisoner. "I am the pro fessor who gives the young lady next door to you lessons on the piano." "Seven years I" came from thf Judge, quickly.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers