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% ■WUmtPTloa MTFJ One y.sr $1 60 B|x month*, „ 75 Thr«o months *. 40 W»w spacer Uw DccIiIon, 1 AnyT»«r»on who takes a paper regular ly from the postoffice-'-whether directed to his name or another's, or whether he haasnb* •cnbed or not— laieaponaiblefor the amount, 1. If a person orders his paper discon tinned He tnnat pay all arrearaies, or the publisher may continue to send it until payment is jnade, and colleot the whole amount,whether the paper is taken from theofflae or not, 3. The courts hare deoided that refusing to take newspapers or periodicals from the postoffioe, or removing and leaving them uncalled for is prima facie evidence of in- netiotnel fraud. TIIB FISH-BALL. ■r *. n. WUTiKITTEIOK. I-et’posU sing Ths chloken wing, And berikwheat cakes and griddle flih**| And aide by aide Mace lobslar tried, Tork cliopa and other comlo dUbss; And yet unto my dytyg day, While »>rniy reaeon I am lord. I'll etand before, the world and Bay 1 "The fiih-bel>. j a u« own reward I ” I’m fond of ham And orlmaon Jam, And macaroni crowned with baron; Yet, whlla I aigh For enko and pie, Aly faltli In claioa remains nnehakon; But whan my fancy’e running wild. And I’m by no gay lark outaoared, I preach to woman, man and child: "The flah-Uali le It* own reward 1” Oh 1 gay marine, You’re often aeon It Ailed up agelnat a door or shutter \ The little boy JustJuuVpB with Joy To aco you Rental with milk and bntler. Oh! dwelt i far boyond the aea. By fifty thousand glrla adored, The o-.otto of my aoul would be: ” The flab-ball la 11a own reward l n Oh, noble cod 1 0 you I nod; 30 aad and medl-tatlve; When toned with wine You're quite divine Unto the ManHachiurttte native, Oh I when I’m old and bent end gray. With wholeaomu morale richly etered, I’ll boldly face the world and aay: "The flab hall la lta own reward I” THE BUTLER HERALD. w. N. BENNS, JAMES D. RUSS. Editor, “ Lkt r l’ 11 i'jitil mo T-.iciiJ r r." Subscription. $1.50 in Advance. VOLUME V. BUTLER, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20. 1881. NUMBER 51. Yon make A 8TRANUI& STORY, I a strange, almost incredible, «t° r .y to toll of L nu experience of my own o’ao fenrf»’ t l night in the wootla. Im agination had nothing to do with it, for X lam a back wood's daughter, accus tomed to tho wild sounds of tho foroat, tho loneliness, and all that is terrifying to a novice. My father was a good man, serving God alter bis own simple fashion, seeing Him and loving'Him in His works, have beard liim hold forth on tho provi- dent ways of {he beaver. " Why 1 the littlo crititer’d starve in tho cold season If it hadn’t used its little flat tail fof buildin’ its house, and then fillin’ it with (food in time 1” I havo heard him tell ol ithe carribou: “ Look at that, too,” he would say, “ and at the moose. Now, the caribou has to travel often a matter of twenty miles for liis dinner, for lie’ dainty ’un, and only eats tho long gray moss that hangs from tho trees ; so God gave him snow-shoes, good as an Injun could make ’em, to skim over tho ice emst—while the big, heavy mooso there sinks right in. His dinner is close al hand. He could live fop months aero lot.” He oqh1<1 speak the loon, and its adaptation in every way te its watery homo—always ending such talk with : “All Ood’s works are ’pon honor; thorVs no half-way with Him.” i was the only one left of ten children, *kly father, when mourning ovor and missing the others, would never oom- plain but only say, “ They’re better off. Why, if wo can’t trust the littlo cltil- dren that don’t know the meaning of sin, there ain’t any chance for the men l 1 And so he Jived his quiet life—his heart beating close to nature’s heart, and his soul unconsciously seeking and finding nature’s God. My mother must have been beautiful in her youth. Bho was a lorcttc Catia- dienne, and her bright French spirits carried her gayly ovor many bold trials in her life of frequent deprivation. One great, overshadowing sorrow of her lifo was tho unaccountable disapponmn her little year-old daughter, her only l>eautifnl child—the one in her own im age, whom from the first she loved with a peculiar tendornoss. Tho child hod boon left alone in he llttlq birch-bark crib for a short half hovir, while mother was busy at the spring, a mile from home, in the midst a. of the woods. I, a little 6-year-old, was olT in the osnoe with my father, as treot for having been especially good the day beforo. Father and I bad splendid time—wo always did when wo were away together—and, our canoo full of trout, wo were coming gayly home toward evening, whon a cold oliill fell on our happiness, and my child’s heart felt n strange thrill as I read a sndden anxiety in my father’s face, whose every change I know. His quick ear bad caught the sound of mother’s voice, and, after a while, I, too, could hear a hopo- less moan, a dreadful, hoart-broken sound. We found mother kneoling on the floor, lier kand leaning on tho empty crib, and moaning as one that could not be comforted. The baby was gone. How or where we could not tell—we never knew. Weeks were spent in scorching for her, aud at length, to save mother’s reason, father foroed her to leavo the pretty log cabin in the woods by tho lnke, where this last sorrow had come upon her, and wo went to Mon treal. There we lived quietly for years dur ing the winter time. The nuns of the great Convent of tho Gray Bisters took charge of my education. Mother aud I had neut little rooms in the French quarter, while father went off moose- hunting for weary .months; but the of tho log cabin doserted after the baby’s loss, until tho summer of my 19th year. Thcu a great desire took possession of my mother to go onoo moro to tho old home. She had been very delicate that winter, and my great, rough father de nied her nothing. I shudder when I think of that beautiful, direful plaoe now—it seems as though our evil fate hovered about it. All tho anguish I over knew centers there We passed one peaceful month to gether, disturbed only by distant ru mors of diphtheria, a scourge which seemed to bo striding from village to village, first on tho river, then nearer us on tlio great lako; but we never thought of its touching us, ’^til one miserable night, whoa father came home, languid and foverish, from one of hia nnmovotts expeditions, and w^ load in 1ub face that tho gliastiy finger of the Bcourgo had set its mark upon him. After tho second day of anxiety about father all strength seemed to foil my delicate little mother. From the first she had despaired about him, and now I saw that, if fatkor’s life were taken, 1 should havo to part with them both. Her life would die with his. for sorrow forges stronger bonds even than joy, and they had suffured so much together, his love always supporting her, that he had imo life of her life. She could not oxist. alone. I struggled hand to hand, and sick at heart against what I felt to be an in exorable fate, nnd. on the afternoon of. .ghth day, I found myself alone and almost despairing, save for the hnppi- of tho two I liud loved best in the world. The sunset came, as I sat by the lake side, flooding my desolated world with a heavenly glory, like n sign from them to mo of their new-found joy. Tho stars had oome ont, before I ven tured to return to the worse than deserted house. I could not hope for help from vny neighbor until I sought it out myself the next day, and I bad to look forward at my heart and weariness of body> sttd 1 - denly I felt the gloom ot eyes watching me. Such strange oyes! No human expression about thorn; a stealthy look in them now. Gently an t could I ap proached her side. Bho trembled and tried to hide her head when I offered her my carefully-prepared food, t moved away and studiously avoided any ap pearance o? watching her. Tet I was intensely conscious of lier every move* ment. I could boo her eying, with a wretched* famished look, a raw venison steak that had been forgotten and lay on the table close bosido her. Stealthi ly, like a beast of prey, her feeble hand stole toward it, and in a moment she had torn it in pieces and devoured it. Horror filled my heart-. Could this oreature bo human ? I sat still in the corner, whore, myself unseen, I could watch and restrain her if nocossary, and soon—weakness overcoming hor after this last effort—she lay tossing in un easy sleep. Oh I I was so weary and so very ouoly I The dreadful night was almost at an end. I went to her side, threw myself on the bed besido hor, aud put my arms about hor neck. Again her wonderful eyes opened full iu my face, I fixed them with my own. I caressed hor, culled her by tho endearing names of old. I besought her to be geutlo and to love mo. I told her sho was my own, tho only creature left for me to love and care for I One short second it seemed as if a soul looked out of her glorious, doer eyes, then, with a groan as if she gavo the strugglo ovor, and with that low, fearful growl again, she fastened her white teeth in my hand. Shrieking with pain, I fainted. When I came to myself, dawn was struggling in at tho window; leaf-shadows flickered on the floor. Fearful pain iu my hand roused me at length, and a consuming thirst drove me into tho woods toward the spring to allay it. I struggled through the underbrush, and there, close to tho water, discerned confused mass. There lay my poor to anight, how horrible. I did not fore- , llltori dMd> her hoed pillowed or I could not have endured it. wild cat of the woods, shot by tho same Whet followed I could .eurcely credit lmndj ptob- , lyi th»t lied wouuded her myself, if I did not bear on my hand a tangible proof in a well-defined scar; and, even now, I could' not bear to write of that night’s experience, hod not my children’s laughter, and my loving hus band’s care long since banished all un natural gloom from my lifo. While I bad been sitting alone on tho lako shore, toward tho ovening, I lmd heard a distant shot; it scarcely ronsod A sportsman, I thought, had wan dered from bis encampment on tho op posite sboro, and Boon somo game in our wildwoods, killed it, aud his canon had long since carried him away. In the gathering darkness I groped my way back through tUo familiar littlo path, and reached my own door. I alone should pass tho throHhold in the fnturo ; their feet were still; the busy feet that had toiled for me, followed me, nnd had boon ever near mo I I was to go on my Tugged path alone 1 Heartsick and over come, I stoppod at the door, aud, lean ing my head ngainst it, sobbed in un controllable despair. Tired out at length, I had grown quiet, and was abont to lift tho latch, when a faint moan, as of an animal in pain, aud close to mo, startled me ; then a dentli-liko silence reigned. I know I had been mistaken. I felt that I must forget myself and kolp the poor creature in distress. “It is very good for strength to know that some one needs you to bo strong." No longer hesitating I hurried into the little cabin, stmek a light and wont in the direction whence the moan bad renohed my cars. I thought of the shot I had heard. It was quite possible a poor wounded deer was lying in tho bushes. Yes, I could now see its skin—unmistakably a fawn —spotted dun color. It lay quite still— perhaps that moan had been its dying gasp—and so I came quite close to it, leaned over, and, paralyzed with horror, saw my mother’s face, only young and very beautiful, as she muHt have looked when a girl. Deathly pale, possibly, 8 ho lay—matted hair all about her face, and clothed in (loo-skin. Just then nho stirred; it was not death. All wonder ceased within me, every feeling fled bo- fore the thought that this being what ever, whoever she was, might bo saved to life. • I dragged her the few steps into the house, laid her on my homlock boughs, untouched by me since the siokness vis ited us. Then I found a wound in ths poor croatnro’s Hide and bound it up, bathed her howl, and, in the quiet, now again I felt startled at seeing my moth er’s image, young nnd fuir, before me, and, when * at length her great eyes opened, I felt it must l»e that sister lost to me till now, and nont back in this sad hour to take my mother’s place. 1 leaned forward, in nx^c***? of tender ness, to welcome her, when a look of fright, an animal-like wild terror, took 1 possession of her face, and a low sort of I R narl broke from her human lips. . The start she gavo caused a fresh flow i of blood; dimness passed over her eyes. Again I stanched tho wound and pre- fatally. OtJR JUVENILES, / ITitth I ir<t* a Grown-Up, Oh, I wish I was a groWn-tip, And nobody could aay, " Mo, no, you can’t do ao-aiid-ao,” Or, "If you're good, you may." If grown-upa waited to b* good Hcfora they had their fun, A great deal that la going on, I gueaa, would not be done. Oh, I wlah I waa a grown-up, Then I’d play with beggar boy*, And apend a hundred dollars For nothing else but toya. I’d giro tho fellowa all a boat, a knife and kite and ball; I'd alt up late, and sometime* Wouldn’t go to bed at all Oh, Te I'd w Wllh 1< l»h I e ear my y y beat, n-np, ;old chain a-dangllng Across my stiff white vest; Wllh big top-boots so heavy I could wado out anywhere | With a gold watch ln my pocket, And a cloao shave on my hair. Oh, I ■-up, Mini mar time wo always spent with him. | pared nourishment in case she waked. Hh would choose lovely spots for our Too busied iu those ways for further tumineT encampments, never on the »-tt«- speculation, only with a steange weight TELLING TRUTHS. It, is voiy important, said Coleridge, that truth should bo put into its proba ble shape in order that it may bo be lieved. I am often accused of boing a Quaker, because I seldom givo a direct answer to sundry questions; but that arises from the incomplete manner which they arc put to mo. I am also somotimes charged with exaggerating facts; but my accusers seem to be ig norant that truth is like an actor on the stage, who requires a littlo rouge to make him look natural by gaslight The same rule applies to everything, said tho deor old sophist. If you aim at a target yon have to calculate the dis tance and elevate your arrow to a cer tain angle, otherwise it falls below the mark. In like manner an orator, who wishes to convinco, must color his re cital to tho capacity of his hearers. An intelligent preacher should, therefore, accommodate his discourse to his con gregation, else ho disgusts instead of convinces. When Whiteflold told a fashionable congregation, in one of bis sermons, that there were infants in hell not a span long, they shuddered and believed. Atoll events, they received the horrible announcement in silence. But when be preached the same doctrine to tho begrimed oolliorB of Newcastle, their human nature rose against it, and they pelted him out of town with coals. And yet it is evident tho thing was as true one day as another. LACK OF AIK. Borne workmen think themselves “tired” when they are only poisoned. They labor in factories, breathe air with out oxygen, and live in an atmosphere of death. They are, too often, allowed to smoke, and thus add fuel to tho flame which is consuming them. They knock off work “ tired ” and listless, when they are merely weakened by foul air, and mode dull and heavy by an ntmosphera charged with disease. They keep the windows shut and close the door on health, while they lift tho gratings of tint tomb by breathing and rebreathing tho jtoison from their own lungs, and tho floating particles of matter about thorn. Open tho windows, let in the sunshine and tho breeze, stop smoking, and you will soon find that it is tho poison of confinement, and not labor, that wearies and tires.—Montreal Her ald and Star. A lady in Auitim uni her colored servant, Matildy, to the grocery store to get a loaf of bread for breakfast. Matildy got bock pretty soon with the bread, and as the lady of the house took it sho remarked : “ This is nioe, fresh bread. It is warm yet from the oven.” “ Dat ain’t what makes it hot,” interrupted Matildy. “ What does make it warm ? ’» “ I put do bread under my arm and ran • the whole way from do.bakery. Dat’s wlmt wormed it up so.” The broad got cool before the lady did when she hesrd this explanation. A* tall aa my papa, I'd have a platol aud a cane. Atid marry Maggie Carr. I'd have a party every night— How Jolly it would H-atuI I'd havo a houae of citron caka Aud a lawn of lemon cream. I'd hnva a at tinning yacht, And eat at the flrat table. Whlla (he heefateak waa hot; I'd go right In the parlor, No matter who waa there; I’d have a ap.ui of hor**#, And keep a dancing bear. But, then, I ain’t a grown-up. The King and the Page. A pleasant story is told of the old j King Frederick tho Great of Prussia, Once whon ho rang his bell for his page to como and wait on him, there wos no answer. Ho rang again, and still there was no answer. So ho went out into the ante-chamber, and there he found his page fast asleep. The stop of the King docs not awaken him, so soundly is he asleep. A letter sticking out of tho boy’s pocket catches the King’s eye, and ho is curious enough to take it out aud read it. Not any more honorable that for a King than any ono else. But the boy bad no roason to bo nfraiiT or ashamed of the King’s ourioeity, for it was a letter from his poor mother, tlionking him for sending her bis wages, aud praying God to reward his kindnoss aud attention. After reading it the King wout softly back to his chamber, took a bag of money, and with tho letter slipped it into the pocket of I the boy. Again going to his chamber ho rang the bell loud enough to arouso tho sleep er, who immediately answered its sum mons. “You have been fast asleep,’’ said the King. Frightened and confused, the poor tyoy put liis Hand iuto his pocket, and what to find but a bag of money ? Ho took it out, aud, looking up to tlie King, burst into tears. “What is the matter?” asked tho ^ Ah, sire,” cried tho poor follow, throwing himself on bis knees before Frederick, “ somebody is trying to ruin me. I know nothing about this money which I havo just found in my pocket.” “My young friend,” said tho King, “ God takes different ways of hoi ping us. Send tho rnoucy to your mother. Snluto her from mo, and tell her I will take good care of both hor nnd you.”— Christian Weekly. Eugenio Mauricio Dengremont. I wish that all tho children ill the world might got. together somo beautiful June day, and then there certainly could be nothing more charming for them than that they should all lie still for a while, and listen to the wonderful violin-play- iiig rf Eugenio Mauricio DeugremouL the child-artist. Let inc tell you what T know of him: He was horn March 19, 1800, at Bio Janeiro, Brazil. liis father, having other hoys, as well os girls, and being a musician iu moderate circumstances, lmd no idea of making musicians of his chil dren, and (lid not dream that tho son born to him this day was ao gifted. But, at the age rtf 4, Mauricio asked his papa to tench him to play tho violin. Thu. his father did not feel inclined to do. He was himself a violin-player in the theater orchestra, and felt the life of un ordiuury musiciau an uncertain one and not desirable for his sou; but the child never gave up the idea of being a vio linist, and would leave liis play at any time to stand near liis father and eagerly watch his practice. At last, in 1872, when tho boy was B years old, his father removed to Monte video, where he played again in the theater orchestra, whither the hoy usual ly accompanied him. Here Mauricio begged so earnestly to study tho violin i that his father, taking him at his word, : decided to gratify him, nnd said: j “ Well, my hoy, if you begin to study i the violin, you will have to carry the j hiisinoHB through.” ) “ T shall do so, Papa,” said the hoy ; ■ and his lessons began. He was so small! and so mnnh in earnest t and his father spent hours bending over tho tiny figure, and guid ing tho hoy's little arm in the bowing. And now take notice, all boys and girls who “ would so ranch love to play well, but can’t bear to practice.” Great ns this child’s natural gifts are, he, at first, practiced three and four hours faithfully every day. To ho gifted, no doubt, makes the work easier, hut a certain amount of real drudgery must he dono by one who succeeds in any art, no mat ter how gifted ho may lie. After four months’ study, Mauricio could play tho soulcs—and in thirds, also (quite difficult on the violin)—as well and ns rapidly as his fa'ther; and, bo- sidcs, ho played so remarkably that his father discovered him to he really a genius, oa liiH name indicated, and so ho faithfully and strictly attended to tho hoy’s teaching. After fourteen mouths’ study, the father decided to allow the boy to give his first concert, hut fearing lest his son might not have the self-control necessary for a successful public performance, he took him to a little town—Paysander- up the river, to make trial. The concert nt Paysander entirely antislieti the father of the boy’s nerve aud self-command, nnd, returning to Montevideo, ho gave liis first concert there to benefit tho unfortunate victims of a railroad accident-. Here his play ing created a great excitement, and, after that, every appearance of his ir public oonoerts was an ovation. Sinoe this modest beginning in the South American town, tho hoy has been petted and flattered by all Europe, al though ho was singularly unspoiled, both son and father being of a generous nature. But I like to think of him, in ; childish grace and beauty, beginning liis musical career with this kindly deed. He seems to mo capable ol doing such a thing nobly. After tho coucort nt Mpntevideo, nnd a grand concert nt Bio Janeiro, he left his brother.* and sisters, aud liis mother —whoso personal beauty he inherits— anil went with his father to try his fort une in tho Old World. He first went, to Lisbon ; thence to Madrid, where ho played before th v King, and received no end of honors and decorations; and from tlie.ro to Paris, where he gavo ton concerts. Think of ib—scarcely 10 yours old From this time—1870-ho lmd privei- Icxhoi.h from laniard, in Paris. These le.wsons hardly .would have occupied mote than a year, if given without a break, lint they extended over n longer period, during which ho tmvelod over all In- r.,pe, excepting Russia and’ Itul.v. Everywhere let met with great success. Bui lt is a meager history *»* " 0, >- derfnl hoy’* child-life—enough, how- (ver, lo livens hop.: of a glorious man hood for him, for Mauricio is not an mi- jiatundly-priHJocious child—a forced hoi • house blossom—but a healthy, fun- loving, boyish hoy, with buoyant ani mal spirit, anil iw ready for wholet-ome fun as for earnest study; nnd, witlml, certainly much more of a child than tho hoy of his v'go. i his face is quiet, the •bin, and his how in again something strangely _ _ truo musical genius.— St Nicholas. tiik use of wealth. Thero ore thousands of rich men who are not skinflints, who havo tlio reputa tion of being so, because they lmvo nev er been known to have done any special good with their nionoy. A man who is worth $50,000 can do more to ntako him self loved anil respeoted by all with whom he comes in contact by tho judi cious expenditure of $1,000 in charity than by giving the whole $50,000 after ho is (lead. It scorns as though it would ho mighty small consolation to a million- giro to loavo money to somo charitable purposo after death, and ho 60 confound ed dead that he couldn’t see tlio smiles of happiness that his generosity hud Suppose a millionaire who has never had n kind word said of him except by fawning hypoorites, who hope to got some of his uiouey, should lay cut a beautiful park, worth $1,000,000, and throw it open free to all, with walks, drives, lakes, shade and everything. BUppOS* OES. HA RTHUFF'S STORIES. “When I was a cadet,” said he, “ I was one rainy day on sentinel duty, whon Gen. Scott, who was visiting tho Point, came by, wrapp'd in a great military cloak and carrying ahuge umbrella. See ing mo pacing up and down in the raip, tho old gentlemau’s kind heart induced liim to stop and soy to me, 1 Young gent leman, yon will catch cold out wet. Como under my umbrella, and walk with mo up to headquarters, when I will have you excused.’ I marched by s side in fear nnd trembling, aud, to y great relief, was not reprimanded by e commandant.” Again he told us: “ L waa once ordered to the front to take part in a forward ovcinent under Gen. Shields. Shields, ? it known, had unquestionably kissed to blarney-stone. I arrived with my ■giiuent in the evening, and at once re nted at the General’s tent. There were number of Colonels sit ting and standing about tho tent; and when I went in Gen. Shields cam3 forward to moot mo, and, putting his hand tip to his mouth, whispered in my ear, * I’m glad to see yon here,’ emphasizing tho you in a complimentary manner. Presontlv all ot her Colonel arrivod and came in. when Shields stepped up to him aud wont through the same motion. Then another arrived with the same result. When wo were all dismissed, with or ders to report next morning at daybreak, wo bid tho General good-night nnd walked outside together. When wo were out of car-sliot, said I, 'Gentlemen, 1 think I can toll each one of you what Gen. Shields whispered to him.’ ‘Wlmt ? wlmt "t asked they all ‘Why,’said I, ‘he simply said, * I am glad to see you hero.’ Every Colonol bowed assent. Gen. Shields had politely and politicly ad dressed to each ono of us tho same grat ifying formula, hut next day we fought none tho worse for that, although an oc casional smile would break out.” Again ho said : * 4 1 was ono timo dis cussing in Washington with Gen. Sheri dan tho real value of brevet rank. I argued that brevets should he limited to n very few. Sheridan contested ®iut they ought to \» generously bestowed 1 for meritorious mrviees. Wo were in dulging in a glam of punch together. I took tip Sheridan’s glass of rightly com pounded punch and poured its oontente into tho water-pile her. ‘There,’ T ex claimed, ‘ I havo illustrated the value of a liberal system of breveta. Drink your punch I"' PLEASANTRIES. Thb English sparrow—“Have I driv- t all tho other birds from this town ? Well, I should twitter.” Said tho General to tho Major, “What is your rnnk, sir ? ” and tho Major re plied, “I am a Major, General.” Wnv mourn for Crimea—hia daughter* Uta; On fMhlou’a afreet* wo And 'em. And thejr wear “ Old arimoa’e oo*t," All buttoned down bohlud 'em. “Something to eat?” Tramp-— “Yes’m. But I don’t want no quail, ’cause it’s been awful hard with ’em thin winter, and they have had to feed on all sorts of pisen berries.” A wise father to his son—“Now, John, I do not object to your being a fool and an idiot. Bo a fool and t n idiot if you want to, hut what I do not wash you to do is to let everybody know it.’* A OHa-c*?«T at amp for * drculalre, ipapelr*. unp for t to right o e rlght-h it To mefco things hot and cuaa and awalre. “With neatness,” horemarkod, as he shot down hill on a bob-sled, “ and dis patch,” he gro&acd the next (lay, point ing to a 16-cent strip of court-plaster on liis nasal appendage and classical fore head. A touno lady nnd hor father were looking at a druggist, who was very nicely balancing tlio delicate little scales on which tho prescription was being weighed. “ How * precise 1 how fine I how little 1” said tho girl. “ Yes,” said the futher, “ hut he will not do so with the bill.” Ik th* aprlnj Flirt*th tunc But tho young And, with m> ptaya croquet; toes not tumbt*, try ri*w, II* oonaldoi a that It’s cheaper • To pay bo*nl for one than two. “ Mr love for you is like that glow ing fire,” said Adolphus, as he blinked at tho burning anthracite and tjieu at the object of his affections. “What a grate full,” ftho murmured, and the' spark got quite warm trying to think how she spelled tho sentence. In tho Senate Chamber at Washing ton, the Chaplain offered the Lord’s prayer. When ho had finished, Dool- inoy leaned over to Josonby, and re marked: “ Ho stole tliat prayer, and I’ll bet a ' boodle ’ on it, for I heard ths same idoas expressed in Eureka at a fu neral over two years ago.” A Dutchman iu Albany went ont to liis milkman in the street with a dish in each hand, instead of ono as usual. The dispenser of attenuated milk asked him if ho wished to fill both vessels? The Dutchman replied, suiting tho notion to tho word, “Dis is for do milluk, and ilia for de water—and I will mix dem so as to shuto mine self.” “ Yus,” said tho witness, “I remem ber the defendant ’s mother crying on tho occasion reflet red to. She was weeping with her left eye—the only onu she has —and the tear were running down her right check.” *’ What I” exclaimed tho Judge, “ how could that bo ?” “ Please, your Honor,” said the witfaoss, “she was awfully cross-eyed.” .vertigo Aineri But, then, i lotion, ho It is doubtleB* pleasant for a man to rend his own obituary, especially if it is a first-class notice. Such cases have happened, owing to tho man being re ported dend when ho was living. B**uie years ago a man listened to his own funeral sermon. He lived in Boutlibury, Ct., aud was known as an inveterate joker. ‘' Old Sim, ” as ho was called, was a stanch friend of Lorenzo Dow, a wan dering preacher, noted for liis eccentrici ties and popular eloquence. Old Sim—his nnrno was Simeon Mitcli- ell—determined to have a funeral, a monument, and a sermon from Dow. He made his arrangements, aud then made believo die. Ho wjib laid out in tho old style—a copper cent on each eye, a handsome shroud aud a mahog any coffin. Tho mcoting-hotiso bell tolled aa tlio procession solemnly marched to the btrying-ground. The coffin was depos- itfd by the sido of the newly-erected tombstone, and Lorenzo Dow preachod A THBtLT.iNQ exhibition of nerve was furnished by a Cincinnati Iioubo-painter some timo ago. Wo quolo from the Commercial of that oity: Bernard Koehler mid Fritz Ilisgen began paint ing a largo house at Betts street and Central avenue. Thrco o’clock in the afternoon found them close up uuder the eaves of the house, nnd sixty-five feet from tho ground. They hail just fin ished the surface within reach, and had started to lower the scaffold a few feet, . When tho required distune© had been reached, Hisgon called to his partner to hang on to the rope until lie (Hisgon) tied his own, when ho would como over and perform a liko scrvico for him, Hisgon had just completed liis own knot, when Koehler cried out: “Come over quick; I can’t hold it.” Hisgen, as quickly os possible, started across the Rcrinl bridge, hut had not gono two step# when ho saw tho nmn let go liis hold, d felt tho ladder give way beneath hia feot. As ho begun the fall, in the energy sloh a funeral sermon as had novor b«n j °t •leaporaUoii ho, with both fond*, heard before. It woe witty, pathetic, j u *° almoat-amooth top of the uevoro and oomplimoutnry. Old Sim, lying in his coffin, heard liis kiraoter dissected by an unsparing Don’t you suppose, if lie took a drive through it himself and saw thousands of people having a good time, aud all look ing their love and reaped for him, that Ins heart would he warmad op aud that liis days would be lengthened? Wouldn't every look of tlianka ho worth 81,000 to tho man who hail ao much money that it made him round-ahouldered 1 Wouldu’t he have more pleasure than he Would in cutting offjeoupoue with a lawn-mower? Peck's Milwaukee Sun. run difference. Mio wanted to know the other doy 11 wo could tell tlio difference betwoon a dromedary and the author of the “Gal ley Slave." While we were computing tlio multifnrioue differences there might be he took shelter behind tho well-top and shouted: “ Because one’a all oamel and tho other's only Bartley Campbell." — Vonkera ttaaetfe. hooio helps ue to atrip off tho out ward disguises of things, and to behold I aud judge of them U their own nature. fourth-story window eomieo nnd thero hung iu tho air, a distance of sixty feet from tho pavement. He then gave an lir^^'were praisod and 'ilia I exhibition of nerve that h^ede aulta severely denounced. The “mourn- I ono who saw it. Placing tho too of ono laughed mid cried. Probably a boot against; the.window frame ha gave mere truttriul sermon was never preached j Ha bodya aUght pendulum motion »wv in taat old bnrying-ground. Whon Dow I Horn tho house. A second push gave mul anishod?OM Bhn rose up, declared i a better impetus, and as he swung himself satisfied, and ordered »U, | on the return toward the window he re- .reseller and “mourner.,” to return to lsascd h.s l.o d and went eras mg 7 through tho glass safely to tlio floor ritwre 'thoatreug. froak of an ceoon- »f the fourth-story room, from whence trie man and of a more eccentric preach- immediately looked ont through the , It just suited Dow, who was fond I 'H’orluro he had made to see what had ,f creating . senretion. It must, how '*°"»» »' ,ns eompamou Koehler had ever, bo said, in justioe to the preacher's i nnt 1,0011 l l' llte 80 ™ lu ““ *■ 8 ', 0 f W !e U80d his | shooting through tho air lm caught the bunging ropo with Loth hands and less ened his speed all tho way down at the expenso of all tho cuticle of his palms, which was burned off by the friction. memory, that he, generally, fsijnHfttions” thst tho people were ben- (Ated by them. • Th» question what degree of heat i* noressary to destroy trichinre in swine’s IWsh is of importance. A German ox- pert suys that if the pieces put into a pot to t oil ore large, trichinn in the middlo ore not certain to he killed by such de- greo of cooking as they are usually sub jected to. As long as meat retains the pink color known as “ rare ” it lias boon iiivifficfently cooked to destroy tho par- ' QnLii/itw/ mid itieklinc tho men* •Hites. I Smoking and pickling the ntea* at?) of ho use whatever. F» v *ll aays her minister’s se'iuons a* “a Uttteobscure, but,” sho •aft; “ liperc-ao* his face I Wrtr should you never put a bib on a child who has a poor appetite ? It will he mini to go ugoifist his stomach. Tie landed in :i -itting posture on the sidewalk, aud was taken to tho hospital with a pair of very soro hips. A little 3-yoar-old buried herself on Sunday in looking at the pictures in the^ Bible, nnd the one representing the drowning of Pharaoh, liis horses and chariots, captivated him to such an ex tent that ho at race begun to play horde with hi* sister. “Wny,” said his mother, “Johnny shouldn’t play horns on Son- 1 day!’ “W 11 there’s a borsn in tbs Bible,” was rite reply, and thst seemed do love to sit and watch tho | ^ holt i 0 it. ^ _ __ The disgusted man who for the first lusted oaviaru puckqrod his mouth pronounced it to lk ^decomposed t so weak that the noilidu’t i i- i- holo through tho broad. ’