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•lim *1 9VIW IhM 1 11Hi‘»q*ii'» i didn’t wasn’t he?” Minnie was silent. Deacon Gray waited a few minutes, hoping she would admit him to her secret medi tations ; tut she did not, and the dear con went away home to tell his wife “that Harlan girl was the very queer est creetur he had ever come across.” In the meantime- Minnie was busy packing her scanty things into her carpet bag, by the weird, flickering light of the dying wood Are. ‘•I w4ll go to New York,” she said to herself, setting her pearly teeth to gether. “My mother’s uncle shall hear my- cause pleaded through my own lips. Oh, I wish my heart would not throb so wildly! I am an orphan all alone in the world, who must fight life’s battles with her own single hands.” Lower Broadway at seven o’clock in the evening. .What a babel of crash ing wheels, hurrying humanity and conglomerate noises it was. Minnie Harlan sat ip the corner of an express office, under the flare of gaslight, surrounded by boxes, and wondered whether people ever went crazy in this perpetual din and tu mult. Her dress was very plain—gray poplin, with a shabby, old-fashioned little straw bonnet tied with black ribbons, and a blue veil, while her only article of baggage, the carpet bag, lay in her lap. She had sat there two hours, and was very tired. “Poor little thing,” thought the dnrk-haired young clerk nearest her, who inhabited a sort of wire cage un der a circlet of gas lights, and then took up his pen and plunged into a perfect Atlantic ocean of accounts. “Mr. Evans.” “Sir?” The dark-haired clerk emerged from his cage with his pen behind his ear, in obedience to the beckoning finger of his superior. “I have noticed that young woman sitting here for some time—how came she here?” “Expressed on from Millington, Io wa. Arrived this afternoon.” As though poor Minnie were a box or a paper parcel. “Who for?” “Consigned to Walter Harrington, Esq.”, “And why hasn’t she been called for?” •‘I sent up to Mr. Harrington’s ad dress to notify him some timfe ago, and am expecting an answer every moment.” „' # “Very odd,” said the gray-haired gentleman, again taking up his news paper. Some three-quarters of an hour af terward Frank Evans came to the pale girl’s side, with indescribable pity in his hazel eyes. “Miss Harlan, -tee have sent to Mr. Harrington’s residence—” Minnie looked up with a feverish red upon her cheek, and her hand clasped tightly on the handle of the faded Carpet bag. “And we regret to inform you that he sailed for Europe at 12 o’clock this day.” A sudden blur came over Minnie’s eyes—she trembled like a leaf. Frank Evans had been turning away, but something in the piteous tones of her voice appealed to every manly instinct within him. “Shall I send to any Other of your friends?” “I have no friends.” “Perhaps I can have your things sent to some quiet family hotel?” Minnie opened her little leather purse and showed him two ten-cent pieces, with a smile that was almost a tear. “This is ail the money I have in the world, sir.” “But what are you going to do?” “I don’t know, sir. Isn’t there a workhouse, or some such place I could go to, until I could find something to do?’ i by the wind, and his ha- »w zel brown eyes sparkling archly. “Secret!” repeated MrscEvans, en ergetically wiping her dim spectacle glass. “Why, Minnie is determined to leave us to-morrow.”. “I must, Frank. I have no right to further trespass on your “Noi right, eh, Mlpnle; doyou know that this old house has been a differ- * cnt place since you^hmlf into it? Do you suppose we want to ’ *—* sunbeam?” Sr i \ f f t j I f Minnie smiled sadly,"but her'hand felt vary cold- and passive in warm irrasD. v “You’ll stay, Mingle?” “No.” n She shook “Then youfaauat said Frank.'* "I’ve missed something of great value lately, and I hereby ar rest you -.da suspicion of being the thief.” “Missed something?” Minnie rose, turning red and white. “O, Frank, you can never suspect me!” . “But I do suspect you. In fact, I am qaite sure that the article is in your possession.” ‘^fho article!” “My heart; Miss’Minnie. I know that I am very young and very poor, and I Stay Frank Evans could scarcely help smiling at poor Minnie’s simplicity. “They are putting out the lights and preparing to close the office,” said Minnie, starting nervously to her feet. “I must go somewhere.” “Miss Harlan,” said Frank, “my home is a very poor one—I am only a five-hundred dollar clerk—but lam sure my mother will receive you un der her roof for a day or two, if you can trust me. “Trust you?” Minnie lbokedat him through violet eyes obscured in tears. “Oh, sir, I shall be so thankful.” • • •' * * t " “How late you are, Frank! Here— give me your overooat—it is all pow dered with snow, and—” But Frank interrupted his bustling, cherry cheeked little mother, as she stood on tip-toe to take off his outer wrappings. “Hush, mother, there is a young lady down stairs.” “A young lady, Frank?’ 1 “Yes, mother; expressed on from Iowa to old Harrington, the rich mer chant. He soiled for Europe this rnorniug, and she is left entirely alone. Mother, she looks like poor Blanche, and I know you wouldn’t refuse her corner rtatll she could find something to do." Mrs. Evans went to the door and called cheerfully out: “Come up stairs, my dear, you’re as welcome as the flowers in May Frank, you did quite right; you al ways do so.” The days and weeks passed qq, qrjd s t«l Minnie Harlan remained an in- piste of Mrs. Ivans’ immbje dwell ini “It seems Just as though she bad taken our dead Blanche’s place,” said |jr life nds,’’and the lpkins trembled spoke these words with an earnest ness that forbade, even for an instant, •hr being the out- heart. affey was a beautiful ing into sweet woman- ilbert loved -her> dearly, had wandered together this sum- afternoon from the matinee to the street car, and he asked her to be wife. It was . in answer to this stion—the earnest appeal of a man iose whole nature was wrapped up passion he could neither control nor east aside—that Myrtle had spoken the words with which our story opens. She had watched him v closely during an acquaintance of nearly -two years, and noticed with pain how he sedu- ously avoided candy stores and ice- So Minnie Harlan, instead of going out as a governess, according to the programme, married the young, dark haired clerk Jn Ellison’s express office, New York. ,- ' They were very quietly married early in the morning, and Frank took Minnie home to his mother, and then went calmly about his business in the wire cage under the circlet of the gas lights. Evans!” "Yes, sir.” Frank, with his pen behind, his ear, as ofjrore, quietly obeyed the behest of the gray-haired official. "Do you remember the young wo man who was expressed on from Mill ington, Iowa, two months since? “ Yes,i sir—I remember her.” r A tall, silver-haired gentleman here interposed with eager quickness:. ' “Where is she? I am her uncle, Walter Harrington. I have just re turned from Paris, where the news of her arrival reached -m-v I want her, she is the only lit tag relative left me.” “Ah! but, sir,” said Frank, "you cannot have her.” “Cannot have her! What do you mean? Has any thing, happened ?”- “Yes,sir; something has happened; Miss Minnie was married to me this morning.” Walter Harrington stared. “Take me to her,” he said hoarsely, ‘I can’t be parted from my only liv ing relative for a mere whim.” “I wonder if he calls the marriage service a mere whim,” thought hon est Frank; but henbeved in silence-. —"FrafiEEvans is an expresselerk no longer, and pretty Minnie moves in velvets and diamonds; but they are quite as happy as they were in the'old days, and that is saying enough. Un cle Walter Harrington grows older and feebler every day, and his two children are the sunshine of his de clining life. THE POLICEMAN. The policeman, children, is a pretty fair sort of a man, notwithstanding he is generally on the beat. He is sometimes called a “geevus,” because he will geevus away if we do not look out for ourselves. Frequently when he comes in sight the boys call out “cheese it.” This is when something has a curd, and they wish to get a whey. The policeman is one of the most clubable of men. He belongs to no club, however. The club belongs to him. He always takes his club with him. As his club is always on hand just in the ace of time, it is known as the ace of dubs. It is a 'trump. The police man is often put to hlB trumps. The policeman is called the guard ian of She night. He is a brave knight. He watches over thehight errant. The policeman. has a very keen mind, he can apprehend the most dif ficult subject, and these subjects are most apprehensive of his approach. The policeman, we are sorry to say, has very bad associations. He is al ways running after bad company. There are a number of men men on the police and each one has anumber. The policeman'is sometimes exiled Charley. He always has bis billy with him. The two are bound togeth er by the strongest tie. The police man is renowned foca billy tie. The policeman is not given to liter ature, but has a pistol-ary correspon dence with dangerous classes some times. He is a measure of policy. What should we do without public police? cream saloons. “I can nemunacry a .stwui Pgit home to-day?** man,” she had said to hermother one day, “who shies at the sight of a candy atore r like a country horse at a fire- engine.” And when the expected avowal came she had kept her word. Adelbert turned around in a dazed sort of way after Myrtle had rejected him, and walked swiftly toward the dry goods store which had been so for tunate as to secure his services. All the afternoon Adelbert stood moodily behind the ribbon counter, thinking of i how he should revenge himself on the naughty girl who had wrecked his happiness. At precisely 4:30 o’clock a fierce joy lighted up his countenance, and, putting on his hat, he left the store. . * * * * As the -bells of St. Agnes’ church were striking 9, a young man sprang lightly up the steps of a magnificent residence, and was soon seated in the sumptuously furnished parlor. The proprietor of the house, a be nevolent-looking old gentleman, en tered thexoom. , . “Do you wish to see me?” he said to Adslbert-Tompkins—for it was he Lwho had sprung lightly up the steps. ■ “Yes,” he replied, “you are the per son I seek.” [ r “What would you?” said the old gentleman. ‘You are the cashier in the Bank, I believe ?.” said the young gen tleman. “I am.” - “You have beta stealing the con cern’s money. Do not seek to de ceive me. You are a cashier; ’tis enough.. Give me $50,000 or I will ex pose you and ruin your life. Having heard me twitter, you can choose your own course.” For an instant the cashier did not move, aud then, going to an elegant escretoire which stood in a corner of the room, he wrote out a check for $50,000, certified it,' and handed the piece of paper, now a fortune, to the youth. _j “I have but one favor-to a»k,” he said, “and that is that you will marry my daughter. I wouldn’t like to let as sure a thing as you are go out of the family. She has $100,000 in her own right, and when I am dead and the bank directors are in jail on ac count of my book-keeping it will suf fice to keep you in comfort. Two months later Myrtle Mahaffey, the cashier's only child, became Adei- hert’s bride. One child, a blue-eyed boy with golden hair, has blessed the union, and as he sits on his grand father’s knee in front of the fire, and asks in his innocent, childish way if ‘ ’papa isn’t a smart man,” the old gem tleman kisses him fondly and says in soft, low tones: “You're singing on the right key now sonny.” Six railway passengers were put off a junct^i to wait for cross-line llttle.ilepot'iWas the only the | man in opera tor. He simply kept the station-house the trains, and he was more responsible for the running of trains thgq the Tygoqnpf Jaj ery one of yet it wasn’t one of the and asked: “Is that train on time?” “I guess so.” “You guess so! Don’t you know?” “No, sir:" “You don’t, eh? Then how do you know it isn’t an hour late?” "I don’t.!’ “Don’t, eh? Well, if that train’s late, you’ll ” Here he was elbowed away by the old woman who made jnp the six, and who wanted to know: EMIGRANTS-BABY. 1 Tlere was a single‘group o^emi-' Y* ltt^taWrelr'ittlrtie K>t)g'dreamy pas lage which leadtf - V 1 ’fabt ie- Central stepoty arid' aktha pass- Wfl png srs wait Ingifor-thctnitaight'Wain mi yedtbat way they absentedaatol- flMMoi t d 1 athetic.touhonleqokfaoe.thaiatqld, t See? , ■■ y / j The police is not a deep thinker. He THE WRONG ONE. It happened in a rough mining town in Colorado. There was a grand ball at the ranch of Whisky Jack, a well- known character in the “diggings,” and the “elite” of the district respond ed to the call in full force. The party was held in a rickerty old barn be longing to the host, and what with a few red strips of flannel, a grotesque accumulation of mountain roses and a row of dripping candles, the ap pointments of the place were perfect. My first partner in the giddy dance was the wife of the man who killed the village postmaster because he re fused him a letter; she was fat, fair and forty, and danced with the grace of a cow. My next partner was the daughter of this charming pair, a young girl just budding into the love liness of womanhood, she was badly freckled and sported a wart on her nose. My next partner was a bloom ing grasswidow, A fresh arrival; and then I rested. I began to comment on new faces in the room. My compan ion in thir pleasant pastime was a heavy-bearded miner, uncouth, rough ly dressed, tobacco-slobbered and very profane. This was our first meeting, and I hoped it would be the lost. ‘There goes a hard-looking case,” I does not cudgel hisbrainoverabstruse whllpered, as the wife of the man who problems. He uses somebody else’s brains when he cudgels. The policeman is not a profane man but he does a good deal of swearing when in court. When in chase of a criminal, if the man becomes tired die policeman will kindly give him arrest. We will nowgive you a rest. A man went into a bank to borrow some money. He asked if they could let him’have a thousand dollars i for a short time. “Oh, yes,” re?}? ‘•‘one Jl>qU|and'p$ two thousand, if you want it.« The rate of interest was sat isfactorily fixed and the borrower was asked as to the erals. “Colin any collaterals,” said the borrower. the cozy little widow; “and she faso C .°* Ia ! : f 1 n ^ 8i r 6ald t,le hanker; “then It will be impossible for us to let you have the money.” The man he ch&rocter of his collat- laterals ? I have not got ing off, killed the postmaster sailed by. “She’s a bad ’un.” Yas,” replied the man, “I’d bate to have the critter step on me. What an elegant target sbe would make for apoor marksman!” “Yes,” I said, and turned my eyes on a tail, raw-boned creature sailing toward us, supported by a little man with sandy whiskers and red-topped “The hoM, I wyi ain’t she a lovely “I guess so.” “The train stops here, does it?” “Yes’m.” “Longenough for me to git on?” "Oh, yes.” “Well, mebbe it does, but if it don’t you’ll hear from us!” She gave place to a man who had looked at his watch three times in six minutes, and who sternly asked: “Did I understand that we were to wait here two hours?” “Yes, sir.” “Is it two hours before that train comes here?” “Yes, sir.” "Two hours?” “Yes!” “Whereabouts on the line is the train now?” “I don’t know.” “Why don’t you telegraph?” “We have no instrument here.” “Haven’t, eh! That’s a pretty state of affairs! Two long hours, and per haps four! Now, then, if—’ Here he was called away by the blowing of a sawmill whistle, and the most peaceful-looking man in the li edged up and inquired: “Train on time?” "Yes, sir.” “Does it cross here?” “Yes, sir.” "Always stop?” “Always.” “Say, if I should get left here to night it would cost somebody a good round sum.” In the course of the next ten min utes the other two men approached and indulged in about the same style of conversation, and after an interval of ten minutes he was asked what time it was. why he was not an oper ator, why the trains didn’t make close connection, and why on earth was it that he didn’t have an eating house in connection with the station. He had a civil answer for every question, and his patience never wa tered until Just four minutes before train time. Then the old woman said to him for the twentieth time: “Do you ’spose I’ll miss the train? “I hope not,” he quietly replied, “if you do I shall take tojthe woods!” And at that the six passengers gath ered on the end of the platform, went into convention, and it was unani mously “Resolved, That the arrogance and impudence of public servants must be and is hereby sternly rebuked.” FILIAL DEVOTION. Not long ago a young man in Car- son got married and started for Cali fornia with his young wife. As he boarded the train his father bade him good-bye and gave him the parental blessing. “My son,” said the aged sire, shak ing with emotion, “remember these words if you never see me again: Nev er go into a place where you would not take your wife.” The couple settled in Mariposa county, and lost week the old man went down to visit them. He propos ed a bear hunt, and they were fortu nate enough to track a grizzly bear to his lair among some of the bowlders in the chapparal. As the two ap proached the bear roused up and sent forth a growl of defiance which shook the trees. “Go in there and kill ’im,” said the old man excitedly. The son held back, tartheracquatat- ance with the bear seeming in some respects undesirable. “Count me out,” he said. “Have I crossed the seas and settled in America to raise acoward?” shout ed the father, brandishing his gun. “I recollect your advice when I left Carson,” was the reply. “How could I forget your sage precepts? Didn’t you tell me never to go where I could not take my wife? Now, how would Sal look in there with that bear?’ The old man clasped his dutiful son to his bosom, and, as the bear issued forth, exclaimed “Speaking of Sally, let ns hasten home; our prolonged absence might cause her needless alarm. 1 In about fifteen minutes they had reached the ranch, the oldmana little ahead, and the distance was about four miles. ,«id n v/.l xln ii tM ■ mi* IttelOlltlll III wf'mfmtoKW’yxJ io her and * “ur wiled them no unjust shaTOof fame d fortune.,, .Tfo.lbiM' Clast. Of $611^ • however, without Whppq patience and skill thfi peq of thereaejy writer were but a slow means' of communicating thought,^t has bj^en less Uttetal^ "A largeiarray of-boyaand young-women are n&w' engaged wlth'tusy'flilgCrft' and nerves under cbnttttaed tension in furnishing tfiC' reading 1 public with the printed sheet. In the morning be gin their tasks with the early dawn that the business man-may have a freah^heet when he'gsfcHte*} the fireside at evening. But- when busy crowds have left the streets- and reunited families are enjoying- the luxuries of home, the printer still tolls' by lamplight that the morning paper be not wanting. These are not ill- paid as far as dollars and cents go. The composing is a pretty sure but not an easy means of winning one’s bread. But they receive little of hon or, considering how much they do for the pleasure of individuals and for the progress of society. When we feel the happiness of our lives enhanced by the perusal of some charming work, we cherish gratitude for the genius that so fittingly set the thoughts to words that they elevate us with emo tion of beauty. But we scarcely think of the patient toil that is required to print those words that the reading of them would be a pleasure. If the only way of learning an author’s thoughts were by deciphering his cramped chl- rography, full of. erasures and inter lineations, few would be inclined to undertake the task. Yet the printer must do this. He must, too, bear the blame of the writer’s bad spelling and bad grammar, though he is allowed to share none of his praise for sound logic or brilliant rhetoric. -The world cannot honor its printers too much. Their composing sticks come nearer than anything else of being that level of which the Syracusan dreamed. ''LlOSEltS 1 bft'MOWBY.* 1 ii«» $ askpa a man with an earnest^loo: his face and a memorandum' 1 -his liaftd, 'of-i'tWllt ,'inl ij _ ‘Ward avenues. 1 ' ‘ 1 * The - man' 1 dddHss&l "Am 1 -' hUs- 'htad' ousljMnto'varibifoipdclfots and re* 1 > .tl Hit If AY «»*• lit i eU, ijLbwv II c dMldveli t€am id ib* bla thatili-waa-lto'A*-toi c fo that coin? Yss, itiSgpsi*.-Xtnnsb mb red and talked and looked like the r ttldefo.” iBtrt'lhe^ wdre’aff iMeht; ■and sat'SfAb&btffesb’ta'thfe hWdbehdli- esic n which their rude luggage' Wks pil< d* -BWtreen- the fhtiler hnd teottief >W»s a trough- -hedi-externpotteedi froih „.... .Im-iloU-i. ...., ^^Wiausy-ioccupy-thq « - npbVeisenrtoe; guKaXreWkthft hfiWTt* SprrOws are our best-educators..-A- m'ai i ifosyt-seetfarther through a t (W i aitelesoclpej'l ••<:■> li«'i u:t twin .,i. • “t foil' of ootar 1, Aut W!th6fit ,, bbeht; are? tbie "fine but’ 1 'frtiititas’ifdms df him ’whd'doei not > t«et foWtfdtafeiy/ ■ ' a -*••“-'•*« •-*■-• “A niaii'never foelspoo/whenhehaa Ate l-aduartMlto - wrap oh the out- l F iJr.TOipKs^t lawR fopnls-nVOqJy , keepyo^f head. 74r- Jones, a»4, yw$, ta*thing,”. . , , Wf2»We d a%,‘.'- '' i ‘ *“ ■«“ ' IUtH stunted-HhaOUaf honor ... .1 - -.1.. On Labor fron^hey birth. 1. Njot the, .perversities of-others; sot .Umr $ta$af<<X>tomssiQn or omission, - - ahvohJv- inhajwis and comforters andtai eeHtaei fclYWfoWWB mi^deeds and negllgenaa, -Q VY OOU- x j xi. it 1 •• flhft till A. an am falxes n nt J on bad.Vrey.wflg- '■ At inihe,,^* .tfi.fte, #t 8 Vfo a8 ® r * sho iVt,a,g$cfiMke pottae.af., '^ A few-kind words, a iHtle foitear- anpeer-akiss-wilHapen -tiseiway 1 to a ‘nooa-oCsunshlnO in-a' house-darkened ■ By tile-clouds- pf discord and unamia-' 1 ‘ II JUKI me a moment and tlic-ti his revolver, I squirmed, “What is a chimpanzee?” he growl ed fiercely, his red eyes growing vejy large. " I saw ? had mode some mistake and hastened to explain. “Why—why,” I stammered, bock- i-liimpaii-e ,- i- :i liivcly found in Africa—nothing sq ly beautiful as « chimpanzee, eouipj iment a lady the man looked relieved, stranger; ah<? she is my _ The other evening a Brush street policeman heard a whistle shrilly blown and a female voice callling for help, and after a short run he reached the scene of commotion. A man was getting up and foiling down again on the door stops, and a female had her head out of an upper window and seemed to be half scared to death. “What’s tlie matter?” asked the officer. “A man has been kicking on the door,” she answered. “This man here?’-' "Yes, J thought he’d tear the wholo house down.” The officer reached out for the man and made two discoveries. It was the woman’s husband, and J\e \\as fighting drunk. “Why, thlft WfoWn|t hurt you repp's yw husband,” he called out. “is that so? Charles, is that you?” “Bet yer life’s smeo," mumbled Charles. “Then re»Uy must excuse mo, Mr, OiUeeV, You see, we have only been married six weeks, and I do not readily recognize him yet. I’ll be ABOUT EDITORS. It may be said that a country news paper’s subscription bills are cool, but they are not collected. The man who stops his paper to economize ought to cut off his nose to keep from buying handkerchiefs. A Texas editor having been acci dentally shot in the stomach while out hunting, lias been obliged to use a patent inside ever since. Edison took out seventy-one patents inside the last six months. We took Mll-witM Unwrao^Srty-inlC-putcat Jjj- sides the lost time we got our mall at the post-offloo. Emerson says: “A man passes for what be is worth.” An editor passes because the man who gives him the pass expects the editor to give him six times the worth of it in a favora ble notice. One who signs himself “A Poet’ writes asking us for our olub rates. Nothing; nothing at all. Bring along “the piece you have just dashed off, and we’ll do the clubbing gratis. According to a veracious but un known scribe, an Iowa editor was challenged to fights duel. He prompt ly accepted, and choose axes as the weapons. Then he issued a supple ment and named forty rods as the dis tance. Six Nevada widows, each worth over $300,000, have formed a compact and solemnly agreed to take no men but editors for second husbands. The reason for this is that they know edi tors are above pecuniary considera tions and will only wed for love. And we wish to add that every editor in the land considers ail those ladles as among the loveliest of their sex and highly intellectual. A Texas woman is gradually becom ing petrified. Her feet and hands are already as hard as stone, and when her cheeks undergo the same meta morphosis she will be fully competent to enter a newspaper office, draw a chair up alongside the editor and reel off the following legend: “I have here an illustrated history of the Patagon ians four tail-page engravings in each number to be completed in seventy- nine parts at fifty cents a part mak ing three superb volumes twrth their weight in gold which no library should be .without and if you will put-your name here at the head of my list 1*11 tarnish you the first three numbers gratis and you give a little notice in your paper, and will you put down your name. A touching scene occurred in the Cleveland, O., criminal court Thurs day last. An old woman,nearly sixty, was called up to receive sentence for keeping a house of ill fame. She was condemned to a heavy fine and a long term of Imprisonment, when a well- known metchant of that City, bearing a most honorable reputation, stepped forward and begged mercy for the old woman. He then astonished the court by stating that the poor, shameless, degraded being was his own mother; that her life of shame had compelled him to disown her years ago, “but vile as she Is,” cried he, “ she is my mother after all, and I can not remain silent and see her go to end her wretch ed life in prison.” The court was deeply affected, and in granting the prayer of the son said tho old woman ought to thank God tor giving her a son capable of reaching an hqporqble manhood in spite of his, panther’s vic ious influences. ofae people aWofe- theta bfeadrf ■*—it) rtaa -ah- nnhnn wn-*omga*ito 4hetm< • 11-Bnt-hije.of thie bojrahad picked bp* Kaifo, Iwt, j|< * 1 ,1-tniril/. ,npll--ll lltHltflllg *»l , ivu.uin.ui-wicw«9quiUI JNUKHI UD« The man ope^.hift njqpqfl^pm few) English words, and he answered bool. _ cil and said: “Will you favor me and address?” They were given, and the question er started on, when the well-dressed man cried: “Hi, there! Where’s the money? Give me my gold piece.” “Oh, I didn’t find any money. I took a notion this morning that in a city like this, where thousands and thousands of dollars are handled every hour, there must be great losses, and started out to investigate the matter. Between here and the river I found seventeen men that had lost a $20 gold piece, and I expect to run the list up to 200 before I reach the city hall. Good day, sir.” ONE* STEW. A finicky, fussy round little man stepped up to the first waiter in a new oyster saloon in Sixth avenue and laid: Have you got any really nica, fresh, good oysters?” “Yes, sir.” “Not too fat, you know, but not thin either. I want them perfectly right, and I want tbem perfectly fresh.” “How will you havo them—half shell?” “Stop a moment,” said the little man; “if you have got just the right kind in just the right condition, please take half £ pint of small ones, not too small, you know, and strain the juice off them carefolly, leaving just a little juice on them, put them in a pan that has been scoured and dried, and then add a little butter, good, pure butter, and a little milk, not New York milk, but real country cow’s milk, and then place the pan over a coal fire, and-be c areful to keep tlitr pan in motion 80 as not to let the oysters turn; add a little juice if you choose, and thon wateh the pan close ly so that the exact moment it comes to a boil you can whip it off. At the same time have a deep dish warming near at hand, and when yon see the first sign of boiling empty the pan into the dish, Do you think you can remember that?” “One stew!” the waiter called out. wftUyour'naSne' 1 * iMb* urj^tei; fttqpiwd atf, looked at the group. T^he- turnixi down with no ungentle hand the cov er-lid from what he believed to bet^e! sleeping child. “Why,” hr exclaimed, staring back, “this child is dead.” “Yesh,” said the boy who could speak English,' “scheep-dead.” And these people had sat by their dead for nearly eight long hours rack ed with anxiety as to what they should do, distracted with grief, yet unabie to express a word of their trouble to the m any sympathizing hearts within reach. . They left the Utile yellow-haired girl-baby, consigned to a foreign grave, ank went on their way, but though they shed no tears there was that in their blue eyes that told of a deep wound, and doubtless in their new home they will miss the quaint little figure in its blue woolen dress and round white cap, and tiny wooden shoes—the little Norse baby that lies alone under the shade trees of Mount Elliot. GOOD NIGHT. “CHURCHING." The “Churching Pew” is the place set apart in many English churches for mothers who attend church for the first time after the birth of a child. Whenever an ocoupant appeared in this pew the usual service was read without further inquiry. An unmarried lady from another par ish who had passed the meridian of her days, took her scat one Sunday in the pew without being aware of the purpose for which -it was set apart. The usuftl servioe followed, and she was only made aware of the object when the clerk, as she was leaving asked her when she would have the child baptized. She rushed home to the friend with whom she-was lodg ing and sank into a seat in a fit of hysterics. “What is the matter?” inquired the friend, “have you been robbed or in sulted?" “Wore, muck worse,’’, sobbed the venerable maiden, “I’ve been church ed!” multitude of sins, j redeeming trait; lie mm down in a minu There is a divorcoity of opinion bc» twevfl |p Ouv young friends have heard of palindromes—words or lines that read and spell the same backward M tors ward. The following senfonoea, print ed in the London Truth, simply make senso read word by word either way: "SolomonLad vast tu a-urea-stiver and gold—things precious. Happy and rich and wise was ho. Faithfully served ho God. “She sits lamenting sadly, often too much alone. “Man Is noble and generous oftcu, About eight years ago a man by the name of Taylor left his wife and five little children in Schley county, from some frivolous reason, and soon after he left there was another son born to them. All the property that they pos sessed was one-mule, which' Taylor carried off with hlfo. Mrs. Taylor bad worked hard—was raising hor chil dren in an admirable way, and was making some money. She had not heard from her husband from the day he left until recently. While passing one of her neighbors she was called to *‘see something,” when she discover ed it was her long missing husband. She fainted and fell. That afternoon he accompanied her home, and the next day she visited heir Primitive Baptist brethren to know if it would be against the church regulations for her to he the wife of Taylor again. They did not object, and all is well now. How tenderly and sweetly foils the gentle "good-night” into loving hearts, as jpembers of a family sepa rate and retire for the night. What myriads of hasty words and thought less acts, engendered in the hurry and business of the day, are forever blot ted out by its benign influence. Small tokens, indeed, hut It Is the little ^courtesies that make up the siifo of a happy home. It is only the littlecour- tesies that can so beautifully round off the square corners in tho homes of la boring men and women. The simple “I thank you,” for a fovor received, will fill with happiness the heart of the giver. True wealth is not estima ted by dollars and cents, but by the gratitude and affection of the heart. If a home be happy, it is of heaven the truest symbol. If a home be happy, whether the owner possesses a patch of ground or a thousand acres, they who live there are indeed wealthy beyond mathematical calculations. Then how much more lovingly are the sable folds of night gathered around the happy home. How much more confidentially do its members repose their weary body in the care of divine goodness, smoothing their over- taxed-minds to the living realities of beautiful dreamland. THE ILSE OF CONTENT. A speck in the ocean only is Pitcain island, or the “Isle of Content,” as It is aptly called. Although only six miles in circumference, it is inhabited by ninety-nine of the happiest persons in the world. The island is situated in a delightful climate about 3,000 miles west of the northern coast of South America. All the tropical fruits grow there in abundance. The inhab^ Hunts form an English colony, and live a simple, happy life, undisturbed by the strife of the world around them. Money is practically unknown among them. The magistrate oh the island has a sinecure, for there are no dis putes, and lawlessness is unknown among them. Each man has his own house and land. The life is commun istic in a way, for all are socially equal and share their goods with each other when one becomes needy. Shoes are seldom worn by the women. The chil dren, when only a few years old, learn how to switu, and tumble around in the breakers without fear or danger. The people are religious, and worship in a little church, some one of their number reading the service of the chureh of England and preaching ev ery Sunday. They are zealous in suo- coring shipwrecked sailors, and seem on the whole to lead an ideal life of quiet and contentment. The Commissioner of Internal Rev enue; Mr. Raum, says that in his an nual report he will tarnish some In formation in-reference to the food giv en to the ciws and pigs of the West He says that a large portion iff the food of these animals comes from the distillery slops: According to this, by the time a Western pig is in a . condi tion to be slaughtered and made up Into hams, sansage, etc., for Easton, consumption, he mqstbe aa thorough ly saturated with aloohol as a verita ble "judge" or "major” with a large practice at the bar. Nothing is more unsatisfactory than to sit down day after day to the same bill of fore. There are houses where the mistress seems to have no inven tive faculty, acquired or Innate. Breakfast consists from Monday until Saturday of tiureame fried pork and potatoes, sausages a ,d cakes. Rem nants of things come on again and again, growing small by degrees, till taei n be of stitfh tHlfl&g thki' 'win last wdj 7 to the end tftey taiybk in some 1 " 1 Sin itattortal, and may frequently W " *»:i«Wmem<*y»tftheWxfeiv<fr: " I** L fo’fe 'tovidea 1 inte 'ibree terms- ' YrtAi *M6fe’vks: , flrh'iS l w; taa &Mdx wUl b@." 'Ldt'ny lekfn' from the past'W ' ' ym fb^tHK'^Wl'tat, aha 1 from the " ‘ firesste’Wlive i&lkmbt theftifure.‘" ’' care-worn age in the hopqs yihicji.cai^, never more be its own, and t t^je Illu sions which can never agjftg grace to existence. It is mefljppy th$A h , makes the old indulgent to tyoung- The Philadelphia Chronic*o>Herald* •■> thinks that Eve was & giddy-young- thing because she got marriedwhen-- ■ • she was a day old. ,!> i... “Bind up my wounds, bring fare'• ' other piece of stovepipe and'let , 'thia" i ‘ ' battle proceed! Charge, tinker!" On, stovepipe, on!” 1 --•*«>•••“ 1 “Love’s young dream” usually merges into matrimonial nightnjffle. | There are more whoops on the in-1 :.,. side of a barrel of whisky than, them <■: are hoops on the outside. You cannot convince the yonngmsn • i ■ ►•* without a fall overcoat that the even*" ‘- •■« tags are chilly. i-.i It knocks all the love out of a man *' 1 ’ to have the music stop, and eVery " ' ‘ 11 manta the ball-room hear him ask ““ bis girl: “Can I hold you a little when we get home?" tions. He is miserable now, but thinks he would be more so if she should flit. Ho reminds me *f tho man who, having inadvertently «at down on the only out let to n hornot’s nest, resolutely stayed there for hours, preferring to endure the stings in a circumscribed area rather than bo stung all over. Mormonism lms some features. For instance, it li and throw the burden of supporting i band on ope woipaq. There ts no use in letting your love blind yon to the undeniable fact that every girl of cultured taste wishes to gratlfyit; so, ifyou take one of these delicate, refined, sensible creatures for a wife, you must couch her on brocade or your marriage bed will not bo downy with her happiness. Not only are these exquisite hirds desirous of fine plumage, hut some of them are hindered flying by nothing else, I know a worshipful hus band whore beautiful young wife wouldn’t roost tn bis cage a year if ho didn’t provide her with just tho kind ol ^ w one grows tired of seeing tho dish of right lively to satisfy her dress exa6- B ppj 68auce 0 r the saueer of prunes, apple sauce or the saueer of prunes, and Is tempted to give them to the dog or pigs. All tills can bo remedied by a little plan. Miuiago for your own fotally ns Ifyou had guests, and vary the arrangement of your tablo and tho Health will be averted. Jack,” There is not one man In a thousand • ■ • who can afford to do without seven or eight hours’eleep. All the stuff writ ten about great men who slept only three or four hours at night Is aproo- -I'-'i ryphal. They may have been put upon ! such small allowance occasionally, and prospered; but no man ever kept 1 ■ healthy in body and mind for auum** • ■'*' her of years with less than seven"" 1 ’ hours’ sleep. Ifyou can get to bed" early, then rise early. Ifyou cannot" ■" go to bed until late, then rise late. -It may be as proper for one man to rise • at eight as it is for another to rise 1 at five. Let the rousing bCil be rung at : ■ least thirty minutes before the public 1 • appearance. Physicians say that A* 1 sudden jump out of bed gives irregu* *"■ lar motion to the pulse. It tak-ee ' 1 ■ * hours to get over a sudden rising. •" • - • ; '•<■"'I “H| The boys who sell the Chronicle on. >.i . the streets, when not engaged in puffr ■■■ ■.*: ing out their intellectual force through - • •/ the insidious cigarette or cigar stump;. i c.; are keen and bright, as their business- ... ; communings show: “Wot yer goin’ to holler to-day,, .••, . Jamesy?” said one oftho leaders,iff . the squad to his partner the othermt-, . i temoon. “I’m a goin’ ter sing out: *’Ena’s. > >-i yer Central Persiftk train robbers, u-1 They make a fyasko and skip.’ ’’ , i, „,.. “Wot’s a fyasko, Jimmy?” . : “I dnnno, adzactly, Patsy, but. it's .. -•> i a heap of money, you can betcherhfo on that.” “Well, I’m goin’ to holler, ‘Desprft -m-> fight on D. street, Crosby’s gallant n.. > defense.’” •• “Wot’s a gallant defense?" „u : .i,i “Hlttin’ a woman wlda elub.Vij, , Two Irishmen were poring over the 1 news of one of the city papers, tad coming to the head “Latest” andlm- ! ' mediately following it “Very Latest^’ ' “ one said to the other: "Ah, sure, Tim, will you be alterex^, , ’ plainin’ what this means?” . | ( “Arrah, bedad," said Tim, “an* it's meself that can explain that te'yiY. Sure the latest is what comes in time to be printed, and the very latest is , j what comes after the paper is out.’* ( What is foshion? Dinners at] mld- M ],' night and headaches in the niqfnlng. ' " What is wit? That peculiar kinil^of ] talk that leads to pulling noses and, broken heads. What is joy? Tooount „ vour money and find it is a hundred , , dollars more than you expect:' What'' ia knowledge? To be away from homo '' when people come to borrow book's ' and umbrellas. What is contentment ? ' To sit in the house and see other 1 stuck " " in the mud. • • i -.,>1 A correspondent says he wenfld like' " to become an editor. Yon wduM/sOn? • I l ' You would, eh? Well, after you be- " ll come an editor and write, herunderthe silent stars,"'andthe '” compositor seta it up, “I kicked "Ucb under the cellar stairs,” ydu’wtll Just ache to grow bow-legged 'following * " ■* 1 pair of brindie steers alonfck Crobked " 1 ' furrow across a forty-acre Held."" " " H « ■ , i|,;.| All 1.. VM A Connecticut pastor Medtaod ,an. ,,t addition of $100 to his galaxy, .tyr tho -i reason, among others, that .the..haxdr est part of his labors heretofore had been the collection of his salary, 'and 1 ' it would kill him to collect nOOi’mta^ 1 ] ''' A littiosonof anevangettodlblergy<.ii.: a man wished that he could-diet and gout V. to heaven. “Why?" aaks<hlaigmnd4ni-il> mother, feeling that heltigettins-top - good to live. “’Cause I-wuntto. get" Hii some of the pennies I have been giv*n . ,.i ing to God.” I »o\ tVHttfI fnl I The remarks of an “many of our successful 1 la- . gan their life as preachers',^ is fully corrected by one of the 1 ! tleman referred to, whb’begfe state that he It’s a mean boy • heroes bis sister’s yoi ^ ‘ - lor. wf ■’