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SHE WOULDN’T HAVE IT. U IKJDO! 0;' T3S LITE SEASII IT CQET ISLAM. P.Y UKUilt Llf at R. There were two of them. One was tall, rather showily attired, not bad looking, but garrulous to a fault. The other was shorter, moderately arrayed, though the extreme garrulous ness of the other may have conduced to her silence. They were about thirty, each, “ old maids," evidently, from some inland town, and had arrived on the Manhat tan grounds just a3 the “ captive" bal loon began to ascend. “ Jane, ’spose that’s the balloon, don’t you? I never saw a balloon before, but 1 know that’s a balloon. What a big thing it is, ain’t it? Shaped like a pear, ain’t it? How it shines don’t it? I wonder what it’s made of?" Thus the tall one volubly expressed herself at tlxe first " go off,’’ as it were. Jane gazed interestedly at the balloon, but said nothing. "It looks frightful, don’t it, Jane, to see that big thing going up into the air, with them people in the basket under neath? It makes me fidgety, I declare." "It looks queer, Eliza. But its got a tope to it." " I know that, but it must be danger ous. Dear me, what do people want to put themselves out for to get into dan ger, when there’s enough of it round everywhere? Want to say they’ve been up in a balloon, I ’spose. Wonder how much ’twould take to get me up in that thing? See it go up and up, Jane." “ I see. Eliza." " They’re laughing and talking in the basket jea’ so there warut no danger! ’Spose tlse rope would break? 'Spose a hurricane should come along—where’d they be then? Jt makes me shudder to think of it. ’Spose it was struck by lightning!—there’s a great black cloud off there. ’Spose it should bust of itself? Gracious! it makes me crawl all over to think of it, Jane." " What do want to think of it for then? I don’t-" “Of course you don't. Ido. ’Spose anything should happen to ’em up there? I guess they’d wish they’d a stayed down here where we are, Jane. Folks always wish they hadn’t when anything happens, but never stop to think they needn’t aforehand." “Wonder what make it go up, Eliza?" “Go up? why, they let the rope out, you goose! Don’t you see the rope’s getting longer ’n longer all the time?" “Yes, I see that, Eliza; but—" She hesitated. The letting, out of the rope didn’t appear to be a satisfactory reason with her, for the ascension of the balloon. "Do you ’spose you’d go up, Eliza, if there was a rope tied to one of your legs, and-" "Hush! for mercy’s sake, Jane!” (spoken in a sharp undertone). “ There’s a gentleman there"—(in a whisper, pointing to a man about six feet to the left and front of Jane) —“ who Jmust have heard you, I know. I saw him look round and smile. The idea of your speaking out so loud about my—you always speak so plain, Jane, that I’m ashamed of you sometimes. When we’re alone, I don’t care, of course, but when we’re out among people you’d ought to be more careful." And Eliza rattled on for two minutes, dwelling on the enormity of Jane’s ut terance, and trying to impress upon her the necessity of being more discreet in the use of her lingual organ. I suspected that it was more to keep Jane from reverting to her partially uttered supposition, than anything else, that Eliza made so many words, she seeing that the reason ascribed by her for the balloon’s ascension was a ridicu lous one. But as she returned to the subject herself, my suspicion was, of course, well founded. “ If they didn’t let the rope out, Jane, of course the balloon couldn’t go up. But that ain’t what makes it go up. I only said so to have you laugh, but you took it so serious. The balloon’s filled with air, you know, and if the rope didn’t hold it, it would go ofl’on its’own hook. My! ain’t it high now? What would you be up there for, Jane? I wouldn’t, not for all the whole word— not tor the whole of Hackensack!" “ Nor I either. Eliza; and as neither of us has got to go up there, what’s the use of getting worked up about it?—l don’t nee." This quietly sensible remark rather took tlie wind out of Eliza’s sails, so to speak; but they filled away in a moment. "Oh, well, people talk about what they wouldn’t like to do, and would like to— don’t tfa_y? all except you; and you never say anything. I sh’d die, if I was as dumb as you, I know 1 should. Why, I talk like a house afire when I’m all alceie to myself, and you’d be as dumb’s an oyster, I know you would, i have disputes, too, with myself, and I always get the best of it, too; catch me moping round and saying nothing—why, I sh’d go off the handle in fifteen min utes!" Jane smiled, and kept her gaze fixed upon the ascending balloon, greatly in terested in the spectacle—a novel one to both. “I’d like to have somebody explain all about a balloon to me,” she said, in a quiet, half musing way—“why it is able to rise and take up a lot of people be sides." "Why, it ; s the air that’s in it that does it, Jane. I told you that." "The gas, ladies—gas, if you excuse me” said a pleasant masculine voice at the moment, the speaker raising his hat arid looking at Jane, near whom he stood, and for whose edification he had evidently spoken. It was the same gentleman whom Eliza had referred to and pointed out as the one she imagined bad overheard Jane’s flagrant remark a few moments before; and at him Eliza stared—glared, almost—as though he had been guilty of an unpardonable offense in presuming to address them. She "hated" that man on the instant; not so much on account of his overhear ing Jane’s incidental allusion to her legs, it, indeed, he did overhear it, as that he should presume to correct her statement in regard to what the balloon was filled with. She "hated" that man; and could her eyes have annihilated him on the spot he had perished then and there! Jane had acknowledged her obliga tions to the gentleman by bowing to and thanking him. Eliza expressed her feel ings in the premises, not only in the manner stated, but by tossing her head contemptuously, and derisively saying: "Gas, eh? I sh’d like to know what kind of gas. H’m, ’taint house gas, I know." She didn’t say this directly to, but at the gentleman, switching her dress and curling her lips as she spoke. "Understanding your meaning, mad ame, in respect to ‘house gas,’ as you term it," said the gentleman, smiling, "I would say that that is the kind of gas ordinarily employed in balloons—coal gas.” "Cold gas—ha! ha! ha! Well, tain’t likely they’d use hot gas, mister, and have the balloon on fire! Can’t you tell us something else?" Jane looked at her appealingly, but the look might as well have been di rected at the balloon. Eliza was in a belligerent njood. "You misunderstood me, madame. Coal and not cold gas—gas evolved from coal," and the gentleman pronounced the two words very distinctly. "Gas revolved from coal! You can tell real funny stories, can’t you, mis ter?"—confident that the gentleman was "running a saw" cn her and Jane, so to speak, or, as she would have expressed it, "trying to stuff them up," she was de termined to let him know that she was "up to snuff," as it were, and not to be "fooled," hence her derisive and ironical utterance.. "You are in ill humor, Eliza. The gentleman was very kind, I’m sure, to give us the information he did. I’m thankful, myself, and Jane glanced her thanks to the gentleman. "Oh, you are, eh? Well, let him tell how coal gas—if there is any such stuff- makes a balloon go up, and I'll be thankful too," The speaker tossed her head and showed very plainly no fear of being compelled to pay tribute to the gentle man in the shape of thanks. "dimply, madame, because the gas is lighter than air," the gentleman re sponded. "Lighter than air!" To Jane: "I s’pose you’re thanful for that most ridic ulous piece of nonsense!" Very sarcas tic she was, but turned at pnee upon the gentleman: "Now, ain’t you smart, mister. Coal gas lighter than air. Ha! ha! ha!—the idea!" "Most assuredly it is, madame.” "’Tain’t no such thing, now. I know you. You’re trying to stuff us up, but you can’t do it—not me you can’t!” and she looked superior to the vain arts of the "stuffer." "I am not trying to stuff you, madame, I assure you. I simply state a fact, that is all, w in saying that gas is lighter than &! r." • "You get out; you can’t fool me, I tell you. Nothing is lighter than air, nothing—the idea! How can it be? Air don’t weigh nothing, and what can be lighter?" "Some things that you can see, mad ame, are lighter than air—clouds and smoke, for instance." Eliza was tethered,<i as it were, but kicked, nevertheless. " Well, them things I s’pose is. Any how, clouds stay up in the air, and smoke’ll go up. But balloons, baskets, and people in ’em ain’t lighter’n air, anyhow, if gas is. I guess you can’t git over that, now," and Eliza felt conscious of victory, if looks went for anything. " You are right there, madame "—her eyes sparkled and flashed with satisfac tion—" but gas is so much lighter than air that it will lift a weight in propor tion to the amount confined. A larger balloon than that, filled, would take up a larger number of persons or greater weight of anything—understand?" Jane nodded affirmatively, while Eliza looked incredulously and defiant. "H’m!" she sneered," then, I s’pose you’d tell us that a balloon big enough could carry up this big hotel and all the people in it?" " Most assuredly, madame." An incredulous and derisive smile played on Eliza’s lips. “ What a whopper! The most ridicu lous thing I ever heard of in all my born days!" To Jane: "I suppose you are thankful for that, too—h’m!" To the gentleman: " Why, you must take us for fools, mister! Biemby you’ll be tell ing us how heavy air is, gas being so very light! Do! Be funny, now, and tell us.” “ I will, madame. Air is a compara tively heavy fluid, and its weight can be increased within a certain space or de creased. You can rarify or expand, compress or squeeze it, so to speak." "There, mister, that’s too funny for anything. Squeeze air! Ha! ha! ha! Well, if you ain’t the funniest man I ever saw, I wouldn’t say so! Ain’t you thankful, Jane, to him for telling us that air can be squeezed? How I’ll make the Hackensack people’s eyes stick out when I tell ’em how heavy air is, and how it can be squeezed. My! won’t they think me scientific, though?" Jane, as little informed as Eliza in re gard to the subject expounded by the gentleman, but who felt that he was honestly stating the facts for the in formation of herself and Eliza, again cast an appealing glance at the latter, who, riding the high horse of disputa tion, heeded not the glance. Smiling and unruffled, the gentleman continued: " Yes, madame, air is not only a fluid of weight, and capable of being com pressed or squeezed, but its pressure upon you and I and all things is some thing tremendous—quite a number of pounds to the square inch of surface, madame. Were it otherwise—were you relieved of this pressure—you would fly off into space like a rocket.” "There, mister, now stop; do, for mercy’s sake, or I shall die a living being. Y’ou are just to awfully funny for any thing. You are—such a funny man. But now, serious, mister, don't make a fool of yourself any longer trying to fool us. You may her, but you can’t me for a cent! I won’t have it. Now you jes’ tell me how we could git up when lying down if air pressed on us so tremendous as you say. How could we walk, go up stairs, do anything, I’d jes’ like to know? I guess I’ve got you now, mister!" " The explanation is, madame, that we were brought into existence entirely adapted to these conditions, and— ” " Well, I declare, if that ain’t crawl ing out of the little end of the horn, then I don’t know what is. Now, see here, mister ” —she switched round, and stood squarely face to face with the gentleman—" I want to ask you if you think I’m a fool—a natural born fool? Jes’ look at me and see!" The gentleman looked squarely at her not unhandsome face, a smile, denoting how deeply he was amused, playing on his lips. " Well, no madame, I do not think you are a tool, by any means; on the contrary, you look like rather a sensible woman." “Oh, I do, eh? —rather. Well, I guess I’m just as sensible as you are, any day —there now. And jes’ let me tell you, mister, that you are an impudent fellow ! You ain’t satisfied with trying to stuff us up with humbugging, ridiculous non sense, but you must insult us—me, any how. Now you jest git right about your business, and don’t let me hear no more of your lies and impudence. I won’t have it, now I tell you. And if you don’t go we will—come, Jane." She switched away on the instant, Jane moving after her, her look and smile, as she turned away from the gentleman, strongly appealing to the charitable side of his nature—plainly asking him not to judge her friend too harshlv. . Heroes in Journalism. Memphis presents a fresh example of the faithfulness of the journalist. The city is literally dead, and there is posi tively nothing doing in the way of busi ness, yet the papers appear as regularly as ever, and it has, of course, never oc curred to the editors to suspend publica tion, and, like the merchants of the place, close their establishments. Cer tainly they go on at a loss, for all the sources of their profits are shut. The newspaper is ever the last to succumb. If its office is burned down, it is out next morning with "a full account of the conflagration." The fires which destroyed Chicago and Boston only scorched the newspapers though the buildings were laid low. The war record of the Mem- Ehis Avalanche can not be forgotten— ow it carried its presses from point to point as the Union armies advanced, and printed its edition everywhere and any where, but always somewhere. The religion of the journalist is his trade. To him it is a sin to fly from his desk at the appearance of danger. Like the general at the head of his army he would be for ever disgraced in his own eyes if the enemy, coming in what shape it might, did not find him in command. The in come of the Memphis editor stops, but his expenses do not. He fights for others and pays for the privilege. He urges courage. He is so little frightened by Yellow Jack that he takes him by tlie buttonhole and laughs with him. He tells his afflicted fellow citizens never to lose hope. He sifts out the truth from the wild stories flying about and kills despair by showing how things could be a great deal worse than they are. He points gleefully to the future, and declares that Memphis must and will re cover the old-time prosperity. Imagine, if you can, Memphis in its hour of its sore trial without its press. Think of the ravages of the dead visitor, un recorded, with only the nlarmed people to tell one another who still lived; with the whole world silent, with no word of vneouragement to reach the public ear. Grant’s Crazy Brother. [Washington Letter.] In the midst of all the honors lavished upon General Grant, the feasting that is given him and the homage that is paid him, it is pitiful to see his only brother going about town, dirty and ragged, a harmless imbecile, borrowing a quarter or half dollar from anybody who will ttive it to him. He is an imbecile. One of the most interesting objects at the fair is the enormous two hundred ton steam trip-hammer, which for the past ten days lias been engaged in pounding one of the Palace Hotel steaks for Gen. Grant’s especial mastication. The inventors were to have that steak ready on time or break the hammer. The steak has had the call in the pool3, however. —San Francisco Post A young lady who didn’t admire the custom in vogue among her sisters of writing a letter and then cross-writing it to illegibility, said she would prefer her epL’les "without an overskirt." Sen sible. FOB THE YOUNG FOLKS. At William Hackett’s dingy, cramped quarters in London, there were three very busy people. These were Mrs. Haekett, Miss Haekett, and Master Hackett. They were working upstairs in an attic room, sitting about a table on which there were dolls, doll-heads, doll bodies. All about the room were boxes of dolls, undressed, except for those in evitable little paper-cambric slips which seem to embody the only inalienable right that dolls have in this world. Were the Hacketts —Mrs., Miss and Master—dressing dolls to help out be lated Santa Claus? No. Were they making dolls? Again, no. They were unmaking the creatures. First, the lovely dears were beheaded. Then they were ripped open about where their clavicles would have been if the doll-makers hadn’t left the clavicles out of the darlings. When they were all ripped, and gaping in a ghastly way from shoulder to shoulder, they were emptied of what would have been their vital organs if it hadn’t been sawdust. Then the heads and bodies were stuffed like Thanksgiving turkey, not, however, with oysters or curry force-meat, but with costly laces—laces fit to adorn 3 duchess. Mr. William Hackett was going to emigrate to America. He was going to open a toy-shop and lace-shop in the United States, and make his fortune. He had put his means, the gatherings and savings of thirty years of work and economy, into fine laces. * * When the custom-house officials boarded the incoming steamer, Mr. Hackett, without hesitation, reported his dods and toys, and stood by while his wares were rummaged so roughly that Master Hackett, also standing by, thought that some of the doll-heads must surely burst open and let out their se crets. But tne investigation ended without any cracked skulls; duty was paid on the dolls, w r hile the laces passed in free. The Hacketts, in good numor, took rooms, and again the dolls were be headed, disemboweled and reconstructed. The laces were worked over and carded; a toy-shop war opened, and Master Hackett, instead of going off to fight the .Indians, and get scalped, was set to keep it, while Miss Hackett presided over the lace-sliop. You and I know why her laces could be sold at low prices—low prices bring quick sales—thus Mr. Hack ett soon found himself back in London, ready to bring out another lot of immi grant dolls, to find homes in little Yan kee girls’ hearts. In the meantime, some things had happened—among others, the Chicago fire. By this, many and many a little girl was left doll-less, and many a boy, top-less. All over the country, from New England and New York and Ohio, and the great North west and the Pacific coast, while mam mas wee boiling and baking, and pack ing boxes of clothing for the burnt-out folks, and papas were giving their checks freely, the dear little boys and girls were getting tops and dressing dollies to com fort the burt-out children. And Santa Claus, you must know, was one of the heaviest sufferers from the great fire. Thousands and thousands of his Christmas toys were destroyed. But when the great holiday came round, the children in the land stood by their blessed old saint and friend. Many a Christmas-box they sent to Chicago for this and that burnt-out Sunday-school. And so it came that there was a Christ mas-tree for a certain Presbyterian Sun day-school in Chicago, all of whose gifts had been sent by children of nobody knew-what-places; that is to say, nobody knew by the time the articles had reacted the tree. Among other things on this certain tree was a wonderful dolly, in a marvel ous dress of pink gauze. "If I could have that,” said Josie Hawley, "I’d stop crying about my burnt-up dolly." " Why don’t you to get it,’’ said Patsy Clark. " I’ve been praying for that picture-book up there ever since T first saw it." " Well, I will," said little Josie. She put her hand up to her eyes,*and looking through her fingers too keep the coveted dolly in sight, site said: “ Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake ” “Is that the right way? ‘lpray the, Santa Claus has tooked it down!” she cried. A lady had just whispered to Santa Claus. He was looking straight into Josie’s face. " This beautiful doll,” he said, “ is foi the good little girl, Josie Hawley." Oh! where was the little girl who had sent that pretty doll? She ought to have been there to see Josie’s radiant, happy face, as two eager arms were reached out to receive the beauty. One day, in the following January, Mrs. Hawley was thinking, in despond ing mood, of her ruined fortunes, when Josie ran into the room, crying: " Come quick, Mamma! My dolly is drowned all to pieces in the baf-tub." "Why, Josie, what have you been doing?” said Mamma, hastening to the bath-room. " I gived her a baf; her wanted a baf so bad," said Josie. There, in and on the booming deep, with a cataract roaring from the open faucet, was the beautiful dolly, all un- Easted., One fair foot and the fairer ead had gone to the bottom of the tub. The beautiful unglued curls were float ing in a tangled mass on the restless waves. “ And what is this ?’’ said Mamma, as, having rescued the other parts, her hand plunged and brought up the head. Drip ping honiton lace was hanging from it. "Did anybody ever?” continued Mamma, pulling at the lace, and drawing out yard after yard. Further investigation followed; dolly was dissected, and a marvelous anatom ical structure was revealed. You see bow it was. do you not? it was one of the Hackett dolls which, by mistake, did not get its lace insides taken out, on its arrival in America. Of course, the matter couldn't be kept out of the papers; it was published far and wide. 1 presume you read an ac count of it. Some custom-house officers did, and the Hacketts did not. They took a London paper, setting itdownthat American newspapers were sensational and unreliable. The custom-house folks had their explanation about the lace stuffed doll; the lace was smuggled lace. They wrote it down on their memories’ tablets, "Beware of dolls!" Mr. Hackett was coming in on a second venture while this inscription was fresh on the tablets. When his dolls were exposed for in spection, the investigator took one in his hand. It was a beautiful creature, with long SaxOn curls, black eyes, bright cheeks and a rose-bud mouth. There is surely not a little girl in all the world who could have looked at it without a flutter. What do you think that hard-hearted officer did? He took the head in his right hand, the bright face against his great palm, while the left f rasped the darling just over the little eart, if there had oeen a heart in its body. He laid the neck across the box’s edge and broke the pretty head off, so that it would have bothered Master Hackett, expert that he was, to recon struct that doll. Doubtless, there never was another lot of dolls that paid a higher fee than Mr. Hackett’s for admission into our country. —Sarah Winter Kellogg; St. Nicholas. The Future of the BaWoon. Professor King has been interviewed by a reporter on the New York Express, and the following are his views on the possibilities of the balloon: " The bal loon is condemned by many, and justly so, because there are those who claim for it impossibilities. It can only be used and valued for what it is worth to science. It will never be used as a car rier in the strict sense, because that is impracticable; but for scientific research, it is the only means we have of studying the higher regions and learning about the upper currents —about the formation of rain and snow and the action of storms. It is the only thing by which we can reach a point in the heavens clear of the earth; and for these purposes it is invaluable. The day will never come when balloons will be made to navigate the air against the currents. That can only be done by flying machines having momentum, which a balloon is without. You cannot throw a tuft of cotton against the wind, for the reason that it has no resistance. The balloon’s mission is scientific in several ways. You know in case of war, it has been very useful in escaping from besieged cities, like Paris, for instance, and for military oper ations, is the only way you have of look ing into the enemies’ fortifications with impunity. It is also valuable for look ing down into deep water. I had an offer made to me once to float over Lake Erie and search for a steamer that had sunk in a storm. From a balloon you can look down to the bottom of very deep water, because you are away far enough to overcome the reflection of the sky. From my balloon here, I can see the channel the boats take to Bockaway very clearly. " I have not the least doubt that the air will be navigated by a flying-machine, but it will have to fly better than a bird flies, the same r.s a ship, and better than a fish; that is, the ship will carry a thousand passengers and a heavy cargo, and go through the water very swiftly, while a fish has all it can do to take care of itself. The flying-machine will have wide, strong wings, and will be propelled by some great force—it may be nitro glycerine, it may be with gun-power, and it may be hydrogen and oxygen gas, or it may be something else, that will give it momentum; but, whatever it is, it will be light and compact, so that a handful of it, so to speak, will last a whole day. A base-ball travels when hit by a bat, and, if there should be a fly on its sur face, it would carry its passenger. You know how nicely a piece of card-hoard can be shied through the air. The flying machine will operate on something like the same principle, but balloons will never be used for the purpose, being, as I said before, without momentum." A Pretty Window Transparency. To make a pretty window transparency, Dne novel and inexpensive, follow these directions: Take a small, round, thin wooden plate and scrape the center with a penknife so that on holding it up to the light, it seems almost transparent. Then dash half across the inner part of the plate a coating of blue paints and in the center draw a ship with saiD out spread, which must be colored brown. When held up to the light, it has the appearance of a ship on the ocean seen in the twlight, for the light shining through the centre which has been scraped, looks the glimmer in the sky from a departed sun, and brings into relief the vessel’s from. A hole is bored on the edge above and blue ribbon inserted, by which the plate may be sus pended over a window, or elewfflere, as may seem convenient. Sometimes these little plates are used as menu cards, having the names of the guests inscribed on the upper portion. They are taken away and suspended afterwards as mementos of the occasion. o It is on one of the wooded streams of Maine. A summering papa lay fishing, in company with his two boys. A mag nificent silver eel, having fooled around the bait, was nimbly ianded, and its mortal coil shuffled off without unneces sary delay. The father had resumed his occupation, when one of the youngsters, noticing the spasmodic action of the striped eel, called out excitedly: "Look, father! Look at the beast! He’s mak ing believe he’s alive!"