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J. W. ANDERSON, Editor and Proprietor DISSATISFIED. An old farm-houBe, with pastures wide, Sweet with flowers on evory Bide; A restless lad who looks from out The porch, with woodbine twined about, Wishes a thought from in his heart: Oh, if I only could depart, l*'rom this dull place the world to see, Ah me ! how happy I would be! Amid the city’s ceaseless din, A man who round the world has been, Who, mid the tumult and the throng, Is thinking, wishing all day long: Oh, could I only tread ouce more The field path to the farm-liouse door; The old green meadows could I see, Ah, me ! how happy would I be. —Dublin ( Ireland) Times. A LONDON ADVENTURE. Three years since I had occasion to I pass a few weeks in London. I am about I to relate an adventure whioh befell me [ I at this time, which came very near hav ing a very serious termination. I can I not even now think of it without a I shudder. [ I was wending my way in the early part of the evening toward Drury Lane Theatre, a famous temple of the drama, I known the world over, when my atten I tion wag suddenly drawn to an appeal I for charity made by a figure crouching [on the doorway of a house. I looked at the applicant. Ho appeared I to be au elderly man attired in a manner I which bespoke tho extreme of destitu¬ tion. His coat was soiled and ragged. I From beneath a shocking hat I could [see [was gray locks stealing judged out. His form [eral bowed, and I from his gen bearing that he must be at least 6P [ years of age. j "A few pence, sir, for a poor old man,” ae whispered. “I am cold and hungry. ! I have had nothing to eat since yester¬ day.” My compassion was stirred. Had he neeir in the prime of life I could have passed by his petiti ou unheeding. But age and infirmity make poverty a pitifu’ spectacle. “Are you, indeed, so poor?” I asked, stopping before him. “I am too feeble to work,” he said. “I depend on what gentlemen give me. Yet I should not care so much for my¬ self, but my poor child—I am obliged to leave her at home sick while I come ouf to beg. ” I was on the point of giving him a shilling when an instinot >f caution stepped in. “After all,” I thought, “he might be an imposter.” In that case I should grudge the EhilliDg, small as it was, which I intended to give him. But if things were really .as he said, I should be willing to bestow on him a larger amount. “How am I to know whether your story is true ?” I said, stopping in the act of drawing a shilling from my pocket. “How am I to know whether you have a sick child, as you repre¬ sent?” “If you will come home with me,” he said, in a tone of subdued eagerness (I remembered this afterward), “I will con¬ vince you.” “Perhaps ho makes this offer,” I thought, “feeling confident that I will not accept it. He shall find himself mistaken this time. I am resolved for once to satisfy myself, and if it is as he says, lie shall have a crown instead of a shilling.” * I Where do you live?” I asked, after a moment’s pause. “About a quarter of a mile from here,” Was the reply. “Lead on, theu,”isaid I. “I will ac¬ company you home aud satisfy myself whether your story is correct. If you arc needy as your appear to be I will do what I can to help you. ” The old mau was profuse in his pro¬ testations of gratitude. In fact, he seemed so willing to comply with my re- 1'iest that again there was a revulsion of feeling, and I felt ashamed that I had questioned his honesty. I inwardly re¬ solved to make it up to him. It was a dismal night. The air was misty and damp, and the occasional street lamps revealed a disagreeable [neighborhood. On either side I saw ■wretched tenement houses. At the doors Iwere gaunt faces, sometimes wearing a ■fierce, almost desperate look. I felt ■that I should not like to pass through I these streets at a late honr of the night. I Yet it is only fair to say that London is [tolerably well governed. The police are numerous, and, so far as my experience extends, are polite and attentive to strangers. Considering how great an amount of poverty and utter destitution there is in the great city, it fnrnishes a Walter of surprise that the harvest of crime, great as it is, should not be even greater. Yet doubtless, as the incident J am relating serves to show, there is many a secret crime committed that mwer sees the light and never becomes known to the authorities. My glance fell thoughtfully upon my guide. He was toiling along, appar ently with difficulty, a little in advance of me, and from time to time looked back to see if I were following him. j Once when he looked back I had my iratch out—a valuable gold chronometot j —from which I was endeavoring to ; ascertain the time by the light of a 'iae E e:gkboriag street lamp. Perhaps 1 imprudent iu making a display in i £lic Comnaton tar. so suspicious a neighborhood. My guide looked at the watch greedily. “Poor fellow !’’ I thought, “Every evidence of wealth and comfort must no doubt fill him with onvy.” I don’t know why it was that no suspicions of the man’s good faith had thus far entered my mind. If there had, the sight of his feebleness would have led me to smile with contempt at the thought that he could possibly do me any harm. Still he hobbled on. We had by degrees got a considerable distance from the place where I first encountered him. I thought that I should be late for the play, and thought of pausing and dismissing him with a gratuity of half a crown. “Are you far from your room—from where you live ?” I asked. “We must have gone half a mile instead of a quar¬ ter.” “That is the house,” said he, point¬ ing to a wretched building only a few steps distant. “In for a penny in for a pound,” thought I. “I will see this adventure through, even if I am late for the thea¬ tre.” My gnide entered the house, and I followed him up a rickety staircase— rather up three—until we reached the fourth story. It was pitch dark all the way. When he had mounted to the third landing he fumbled at the door and opened it. I followed him in. “Stop a moment, kind gentleman, and I will light a candle,” said the old man. I stopped, and in a moment the dim light of a farthing dip illuminated the apartment. I had scarcely time to take a hasty glance at the room and its appurtenances than the old man stepped behind me and closed the door. There was a click audible. It fastened as it closed. What did 1 see? Of course I expected to see a miserable den, with broken down furniture and every evidence of the direst destitution and wretchedness. Instead of this my gaze rested on a room comfortably furnished; a Kidderminster carpet, not much worn, covered the floor. There were a few neat chairs, a mahog¬ any table and a comfortable bed. “You have deceived me,” said I, stern¬ ly, turning upon tho old man. I turned as I said this, but what was my bewil¬ derment at perceiving that the old maD had disappeared and in his plaoe there stood before me quite a different person¬ age. Tho gray hair, the bowed form, tho marks of age had vanished. My gnide was no longer old and decrepit, but a man in the prime of life, strong and vigorous. His gray wig, for it was a wig, lay on the carpet, whither he had care¬ lessly tossed it. “You seem a little surprised,” he said, in a mocking voice; “strange miracles sometimes happen nowadays.” “What does this mean ?” I asked, in bewilderment. “What does it meau?’’ repeated tho man, coolly. “It ..means that I will trouble you for that watch of yours. It appears to bo a valuable one,” he con¬ tinued with bold impudence. “I will take the liberty to borrow it of you for an indefinite period. Just now, unfor¬ tunately, my watch happens to be at the jeweler’s, so that I am unable to be on time in my fashionable engagements. I shall be compelled to trouble you for the loan of yours.” “Is there anything else you would like ?” I asked hotly, indignant at hav¬ ing been so cleverly outwitted, and that, too, by a man whom I had been in¬ tending to succor. It seemed the worst kind of an imposition, playiug upoa my feelings only to work me injury. “Yes,” he replied carelessly, “I am out of money just at present. Slightly overdrawn at my banker’s. Awkward, isn’t it ? I will take the additional lib¬ erty of borrowing your purse. Though I don’t generally do such things, I will, if it will be any satisfaction, give yon my note of hand for the amount, due say in ninety years.” Again he laughed mockingly. “You are an atrocious villain 1” said I, indignantly. “Oh, no doubt. You’re quite welcome to call me so. We’re all sinners, yon know 1” The man’s insufferable coolness and impudence quite took away my breath I felt that a discussion could do no pos¬ sible good, He had me in his power, and of course that gave him the entire advantage. “Let me out 1” 1 exclaimed, advancing toward the door. "Not yet,” said he resolutely, display¬ ing a pistol. “Not till you have com¬ plied with my very reasonable demands. Do that and yon shall go freely, and not a hair of your head shall be harmed. Cone, what do you say ?” What could I say ? How was I, sin gle handed and without a weapon, to contend with this man, my equal iu strength and armed with a pistol ? This makes the weak equal with the strong, If I only hail that pistol—if I could only Bnt that seemed watchful and wary. should I make the attempt and fail he w ould probably kill me without mercy, Yet that attempt I meant to make, ^ lucky thought came to my assist ac ce. I was something of a ventrilo aud had been from mj youth- COVINGTON, GEORGIA, APRIL 8, 1885. that is, I could throw my voice to an other part of the room so that some one else might seem to be speaking. No sooner did I think of this than I resolved upon my plan. “Well,” said he impatiently, “have you decided ?” “Wretch 1” said a voice just behind him. He turned suddenly, and at that mo ment I snatched the pistol from his grasp. “Now it is my turn,” said I exulting, ly. “Open that door or I fire.” He looked at me in stupid surprise. I repeated my commaud. He advanced a step toward me. “Make the slightest attempt to retake this weapon and I fire. ” He glared at me with a look of baffled ferocity, and looked undecided. I repeated my order and he sullenly opened the door. I passed through, backing out warily, ready to fire at the slightest movement showing intent to assault me. I should have felt no hesitation in doing so. The man was a desperate villain, very likely a murderer, and I felt that I should be justified. But he seemed to have given up his enterprise as bootless. He went back into his room and slammed the door. I made my way out into the street and hurried to the theatre, first removing the charge from my weapon. It proved to be a valuable one, and I de¬ cided to retain it as a “contraband of war.” Roller Skating Rinks. The Cleveland Leader says: A stylish¬ ly-dressed young lady, whose features were concealed by a thick veil, entered the downtown office of a prominent physician yesterday afternoon, and, with some show of nervousness, requested au audience with him. The doctor led the way into his private office, and the fair patient removed her veil, remarking as she did so, “I wish you would tell me what is the matter with my face.” In the dimly-lighted room the physi¬ cian was unable to find anything wrong. Stepping to the window, the lady said, poiuting to the roguish dimples that nature had placed ou cheeks and chin aud the little creases about the corners of her eyes: “Do you see that? My face looks as though I had been working in a coal mine. ” Closer inspection showed the physician that the dimples aud creases as well as the larger pores in the lady’s face were filled with a dark, grimy substance. “I have scrubbed and worked at that until I am tired, but cannot remove it. I am satisfied it is not dirt,” she continued, evidently judg¬ ing from the physician’s look that he was about to tell her to take a oath. “I understand,” said the doctor, with with a smile; “the roller rink again.” “What do you mean ?” she asked in a troubled tone. “Nothing but roller rink dust. That is all. It is nothing serious. Try soap \ and water again and use this solution ' before retiring at night, and your com plexion will be all right again.” - “Oh, I am so glad,” the lady re marked, as she adjusted her veil and de parted. “That is the latest feature of the roller skating craze,” remarked the physician to a reporter who had overheard the conversation with amusement. “That is the second lady who has been to see me with a similar complaint within a week.” “What is the cause of it ?” “Why, you see, the dust that ri«es from the floor of the rink is very fine aud peuetratiug, aud when it settles on the skin, dampened with perspiration, it at once finds its way into the pores.” Saved From a Life Sentence. The last proceedings have finally been held iu the famous Mack murder case, which took place July 14, 1878, in Jonesville, Wis. Mrs. Mack, charged with murdering her hus¬ band, was tried, convicted, and sen¬ tenced to the State prison for life, but the Supreme Court granted her a new trial, and on the second trial the jury disagreed. Since then she married the priucipal witness against her, which renders his testimony worthless against her. She made au application to have her bondsman relieved by giving her own bond in the sum of 88,000, which was granted. She having married the State’s most important witness and tho other witnesses being widely scattered, it is not like’-y [that the case will ever be called. African Explorations. Serpo Pinto, the celebrated African traveler who started for Central Africa last year from Mozambique, came near starving to death not long after he began his march. He and his comrade, Lieut. Cardoso, were stricken with fever in a district where famine prevailed. They could buy little food, and, being too ill to be removed, their party were soon reduced to sore traits. The Governor of Mozambique heard of their distress, aud sent a relief party, who remained with them until the explorers were able to push ou to ample food supplies beyond j the famine district Pinto is leading into inner Africa one of the best equipped parties that ever left the coast. GENTEEL, BUT k A aESPKCTABI.E YAAiKANT AM) MEANS OK HUl’FOUT. £««l ICxpcrioncc of Two Vonns Men who ore Willing Ko Work hut are Unable to Find Any. “Yes, we are tramps, We are as thoroughly out in the world as the most tattered, impecunious vagabond that begs for a few pennies on tho street or for a piece of bread at the back door.’’ The speaker was a young man, not shabbily dressed save for the frayed binding on his coat. -His face overgrown with a week’s old beard, was frank and kindly. His companion was also young, aud his appearance, too, was respecta ble. “You don’t look like tramps,” said the reporter. “That is very true, and yet, if you were only to count as tramps those shift¬ less vagabonds, down at the heel and cut at the elbows, who jostle eaoh other at the soup houses and steal for the sake of going to jail, you would have little more tEau half the tramps in Philadelphia to-day.” “ What has been your experience ?” “I’ll tell you, but you must not pub¬ lish our names. You can take them so that if any one, after reading the story, has a desire to give us work, you can let us know. We are both down in the world, sir, but our self-respect has not left us yet. I pray God it never may. Well, as to how we got down in the world. I am a traveling Salesman. At the end of 1884 depression in trade threw me out of a position I had held for two years. I soon became poor, and then followed the usual experiences with pawnbrokers. I could get no work, and finally my money was all gone and I knew not where to turn to get a meal. My companion last year was an advance agent for a circus. Before that he was an engineer. He has a wife and two children in a little back ro >m oh Vine street. We met as companions iu dis¬ tress, aud he took me to his room. The scene I witnessed there turned my trials to trifles and dispersed my sorrow for very shame. His wife was sick and his children stood shivering beside the empty stove. There had been nothing to eat in the room for two days.” The speaker paused a moment and gave a great gulp, as though to choke down a lump in his throat. His eyes had a glistening suspicion of tears in them. “Well,” he went on, “that was a month ago, and it was the beginning of our friendship. Since then we have been tramps, and we have worked to¬ gether. How we managed to get along is almost a mystery to me, now that tho first month is passed.” “Give me some idea of your opera¬ tions.” “Our meals are secured chiefly at free lunch counters. Often enough we cau slip in and get a drink with a crowd and then help ourselves or sit down and eat, no one noticing that we had not invested at the bar. Sometimes I would go np to the counter, and when no one was looking, pass back to my companion enough food to make a meal for his fam ily. He has a place to sleep, but I have none and at night I have to shift ♦or myself. “And how do you make out ?” ‘Sometimes I sleep at tho statiou houses, but the officers will not allow one to keep that up for mavy nights. Fonr nights I slept in empty freight cars out near Brewerytown. When I fail to find a place to lay my head I stay around the Broad Street Station until they tnrn me out. Yes, 1 am one of the tramps tho station master talks about as constantly coming around there, and being as constantly asked to go out. Well, after I am invited out of the station it is usually midnight. I have to keep awake and put iu the timr j until morning. It is a weary time of it. Sometimes I walk out to Frankford aud sometimes to Germantown. Very oi ten 1 am stopped by penniless wanderers like myself, who want a few pennies for a night’s lodging. That is what I call the very irony of poverty. “I could tell you a good many things to make yon smile. Do you remember the incident Mark Twain relates in ‘Boughing It’ of the fellow who found a dime and threw it down so he conld pleasure of finding ... i . ? j have the again Well, I had a similar experience. I J found a silver quarter at road and j Spring Garden streets. I had not eaten j anything for nearly thirty-six hours. 1 picked it np and could not realize my good fortune. I tossed it down ou the pavement to see if it would ring, and then walked away, and coming back, picked it up again. The pleasure of going through the process of finding the coin the second time was equal to tho first .—Philadelphia Priss. I The Color Line in Massachusetts. ; Boston, Mass, j Judge Parmenter, of gave a decision in the case rf Richard S. Brown, a well-known colored man, ngainst Joseph Hawes, Treasurer of the Wmslow Skating Rink, fining Hawes sixteen dollars and costs. Brown visited the rink with two children, but was not allowed to purchase admission tickets, Upon demanding the reason for this dis- j crimination Browa was forcibly ejected from the premises. J ARCTIC DOG SLEDGING. Not Mich Amusing Work oh U i« Supposed te lie. Speaking of Melville's book on the Lena Delta, the Literary World says: Sledging is never an easy matter in Sibe¬ ria. The dogs are quarrelsome, and very difficult to manage, as the follow¬ ing description of a journey with a team of eleven dogs will show: “Away we went with the dogs in full cry, all yelp¬ ing, snapping, biting, and seizing each other from behind, those in front turn¬ ing round to fight back, until some one were drawn oil their feet and dragged along at a fearful rate; Vasilli, yelling at the top of his voice, coaxed, scolded, and anathematised by turn, until at length, t by dint of twisting and rolling over, the team became entangled into one living mass of vicious flesh. To pacify and disentangle the crazy canines, Vasilli leaped upon them with his iron-pointed guiding staff, and the only astonishing thing to me was how the poor brutes could live under such a heavy beating. It is true some of thorn, after receiviug a severe blow on the small of the back, did drag their hind legs for a few min¬ utes; but in tho end it did not seem to check their desire to bite and fight. Yet they were considerably more tractable after this, their first beating, and ran along at a more even pace, foilowiug the leaders, who in turn were guided and governed by Vasilli’s word of command: ‘Tuck! Tuck! Taduck, taduck Stoi, stoi!’ (right, right; left, left; stop! stop); and a general chuckle of encour¬ agement.” The dogs, moreover, are so ferocious that if they meet a team of reindeer they will at once attack and kill them. On one occasion Mr. Melville was pro¬ ceeding by deersledge when he en¬ countered w team of dogs. His driver at ouce drew off the road into a wood, stationing Mr. Melville with a huge stick to prevent the dogs from following. They came on in hot pursuit, despite the efforts of their driver, when a stout blow from the stick caused the leading dog to turn round aud attack his neigh¬ bor, and in an instant the whole team was embroiled in a “free and easy,” while the deer team made their escape. The Editor at Rome. Tho joys of editing any country news¬ paper are many and compensating. But —as iu everything else—they are un¬ equally distributed. Now here is Editor Ford, of the Baraboo (Wis.) Democrat. He has within the last three months been hanged in effigy and had a flag shot from his office at the instigation of his vile contemporary. But the royal diadem of his delight is described in a column editorial, leaded pica, under the title of “A Pleasing Announcemeut,” from which the Journal quotes : “To¬ day we have the satisfaction of announc¬ ing to the public that the mortgage has been lifted, and tho Democrat office is not encumbered with a dollar's indebt¬ edness. To accomplish this we have labored with unceasing toil, day aud night. Indeed, we have worn ourself almost entirely out, buried ourself from all society, and lived in our office like a hermit, in order that we might once more call ourself a free man. Five years of the hardest labor of our whole life have been spent in Baraboo, while Mrs. Ford has almost lived in the office with us during that time. Long, long ago, and dreary the time seems to us now; but daylight has at last dawned upon us, and when we leave our office at 6 o’clock in the evening and return to our pleasant little home, find our coal house full of coal, our wood-house full of wood, cellar full of vegetables, don our slippers, recline back in onr cusioned rocker, put our feet on the centre table, take Francis Woolfolk Ford on one knee and Daisy Brausford Ford on the other, and listen to them while they sing that soul-stirring hymn— I want to be an angel, And with the angels stand; A crown upon my forehead A harp within ruy hand, we forget our tribulations, and think that after all, there is some happiness in this world.” A fellow in Oxford county, Me., gulled a whole town and caught a rich widow. When the assessors of taxes came around he told them that they might tax him for 810,000 in money at although ho was supposed to ^ j )O0r an< j worked in a mill for 81-50 a q a y_ Tim fame of a man who was suffi honest to nncover concealed tax- j b) property of his accord, spread ' e own the town, and he was lionized. [ made and an married impression her. After on a the wealthy wed- j the assessors had to abate the tax the supposititious 810,000, and the had to support a worthless hus He was not worth a dollar. ----•---- The state of affairs in Dublin, N. II., is somewhat interesting, owing to the difficulties experienced by the Select¬ men in disposing of the income of a fund of 82,500, which was given to the town some time ago with the provision that the interest should be annually dis tributed to the poor inhabitants of the place. The interes t is new about to be distributed, but there are no takers, as quite a number of persons to whom off.es have been made decline on the ground that their self-respect would be compromised. VOL. XI, NO, 21. THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Over Ilnlf of Those who SprnU It Inhabit* • ants of the United Stutes. Tlie language in which Shakespeare and Milton wrote was the language of but live or six millions of people in their day, and as late as 100 years ago English was spoken by not more than 15,000,000 people. At the same period French was the mother tongue of at least 30,000,000, and German, in one or other of its forms, was the language of from 35,000, 000 to 40,000,000. This state of affairs is now completely reversed. Between forty and fifty years ago the English language equalled the German iu the number of those who spoke it, andjnow the latter is left far behind in the race. German is spoken by 10,000,000 per¬ sons in the Austria-Hungarian empire, 4(5,000,000 in the German empire, 40,000 in Belgium, 2,000,000 in Swit¬ zerland, and is the native tongue of some 2,000,000 in the United States and Canada. This gives a total of about (30,000,000 persons who may speak Ger¬ man. With French the case is much the same, but the gain during tho past century has been smaller than that of German. French is now spoken by the 38,000,000 people of France, by 2,250, 000-in Belgium, 200,000 in Alsace-Lor¬ raine, 600,000 in Switzerland, 1,500,000 in Canada and the United States, 600, 000 in Hayti, and by 1,500,000 iu Al¬ giers, India, the West Indies, and Africa; in all about 45,000,000. English is now spoken by all but some 500,000 of the 37,000,000 persons in the British Islands, by 53,000,000 oat of the 56,000,000 inhabitants of the United States, by 4,000,000 persons in Canada, 3,000,000 in Australasia, 1,700,000 per¬ sons in the West Indies, and perhaps by 1,000,000 in India and the other British colonies. This brings up the total to 100,000,000, which cannot bo very far from the truth. El Malidi’s French Lieutenant. Oliver Pain, the Frenchman now in the Mahdi’s camp, and to whose coun¬ sels much of the false prophet’s recent success is credited, is a brilliant Bo¬ hemian. He is about forty-five years old, was born in or near Paris and was educated in the schools of the city. In 1863-70 ho was prominent in that Com¬ mune aud the attempts to overthrow Napoleon III, writing for tho papers and taking part in the street-fighting. He was tall, dashing and handsome. During the Franco-Prussian war he was a captain in the French army and at tho same time newspaper correspondent. Later, in 1873, Marshal MacMahon sent him with Rochefort, editor of La Lan lernc, aud other Communists, to the penal colony at' New Caledonia. He was one of tho little band that escaped from there in 1875 aud came to this country. Then ho went to London and Geneva, following a journalist’s career until the breaking ont of tho Rnsso Turkish war. Pain was among the first correspondents on the ground, but soon began to take an active part on behalf of the latter country, both by counsel and arms. He was taken prisoner by tho Russians, suspected of being a spy, and condemned to be shot; but there being great doubt that he was one and the fact that he was a Frenchman saved him. After a severe imprisonment ho returned to Paris on the grouting of a general amnesty to the Communists and wrote for several of the leading news¬ papers. On the breaking ont of the war in Egypt he was sent there as a corre¬ spondent at his own request, as he seemed never to be so happy as when in the midst of turmoil and excitement. While there he changed his mission and formed the brilliant idea of penetrating to the camp of the Mabdi, which he alone succeeded in doing of all the cor¬ respondents sent t,o Egypt, and this in the face of almost insurmountable ob¬ stacles and iu spite of hardships and terrors which would have appalled the heart of any other man but Pain.— Boston Pilot. A French Penal Colony. A recent visitor to New Caledonia gives a shocking account of the state of society in that island. It appears tla‘ the number of criminals living there amounts to about 10,500. The mortali ty is very great and there are numerous escapes. Dnring the last ten years nc fewer than 247 convicts who have managed to smuggle themselves on board ship have been discovered in the Anstralian colonies. The grievances of of the colonists are, therefore, by no means imaginary. Id the first instance, no attempt is made to classify the pris aud the result is often disastrous to those who are only partially depraved, convicts are ultimately divided into five classes, rnnging from men who are kept at severe labor, without any reiaxa tion or indulgences, to men who, owing their good conduct, enjoy compara¬ freedom, aud are restored to family Many of the convicts, however their conditional liberty in prey upon tho free settlers and the and tho state of things in the has in consequence become in Such being the condition of Caledonia, it is not surprising that I shouid bo a strong feeling in Am against the proposal to establish a ) Frrc i pan&i settlement in the New ! STRAY BITS OF RUMOR FOUND IN THE COLUMNS OF OUtt EXCHANGES. The Fireman ItPMlgned —On the Roller Skates—Put on Record—He was Indie* uunt-Fouud his lion**. Etc. A FIREMAN WHO RESIGNED. “What caused you to leave the fire department, Jim?” “Oh, I got sick of it.” “What was the trouble?” “Well, I’ll tell you. I worked four years to get on, and then I got right off again. It wasn’t what I thought it was. I’d watched the boys working lots of times, and I’d been around visiting them at their houses. I kinder thought I’d like it. When I got my appointment I felt that I was fixed for life. The sec¬ ond night after that an alarm came in for us about eleven o’clock, and out we went. When we got to the fire, which was in the cellar, the captain made me go down and hold a lantern. The ther¬ mometer was about twenty-five below zero, and just as I started to go up the back stairs a stream hit me in the mouth and knocked me down so quick that I couldn’t tell what struck me. I lay there senseless with the hose playing on mo for a little while—long enough for mo to freeze fast, any way, and when I tried to get up I couldn’t. I was all covered with icicles, and the whiskers of me were frozen so stiff that I couldn’t get my mouth open to yell. I began to think I was done for, when one of the boys stumbled over me, and gettiug a lantern, found out who I was. They had to chop mo out with axes, and when I walked off I looked like a snow man, That sickened me of the fire department, aud I resigned the next day ."—Chicago Herald. FARES OF THE FAIR. When two lady friends enter a street¬ car together they generally go through with a funny little formula for tho sav¬ ing of each other’s credit for generosity and for appearances generally. “Now mind, I’ve got the change,” says one as they hail the car. “Have yon? Well, so have I. I cau pay the fare,” answers the other. By this time the ladies are seated, aud both begin to fumble leisurely in their satchels for that change. “Now, I’ll pay," exclaims one, and she fishes ont a dollar bill and looks helplessly around for some maii to pass it up. “I want change, anyhow.” The money is passed up to the box, and in the meantime the other lady quietly deposits two nickels in the box. “Oh, you meau thing 1” cries the street-oar guest. “Never mind, I’ll pay coming home,” and then they fall to talking of some absent one.— New Orleans Pic¬ ayune. ON TIIE SKATES. I want to be a skater, And with tho akators glide, A pair of rollers on my feet, A sweet girl by my side. He tried to be a skater, And bravely be struck out. The doctor says: “In three months Agaiu he’ll be about.” —Morristown Deraid. FOUND HIS BOS& A plumber and his wife wore on their way to chureb. “Wliydid yon bow so low to tha gentleman we just passsed V she in¬ quired. “He owns a roller-skating rink,” tht rich man said. — Lncjlcsidc. ANOTHER ONE PUT ON RECORD. When I was at Washington I said to the engineer of the little building at the foot of the Monument: “You have a mighty tall chimney for such a small factory.” He silently chalked a mark on the board wall behind him. “What’s that for ?” I inquired. “You are the 176th person who made that remark,” was his answer .—Detroit Free Press. QUALITIES OF SOUND. Mrs. Minks—The nurse seems to have tronble with the baby to-night. He is crying yet. Mr. Minks—Yes, bless his little heart I wonder what ails him ? Mrs. Minks—Oh ! nothing serious. How sweetly shrill his voice is ! So clear and musical. Mr. Minks—Yes I—but hark ! Those souudsdonot coma from onr nursery. They come through the walls of the next house. Mrs. Minks—Mercy! So they do. Why can’t people have sense enough to give their squalling brats paregoric or something, instead of letting them yell like screech owls .—Philadelphia Call. BRIMSTONE FOR CONGRKGATIONALISTS. A good story is told of three clergymen, two Congregationalists and one Uaiver salist, who reside not over a thousand miles from New Bedford. Two of them were talking when the third joined them, and, putting a cigar in his mouth, said to his brother Congregatioualist, "Mr. -, give me a match.” There was some hesitation about granting the request, so number three turned to his Universalist friend with his request which was granted. “Well, here is a Universalist with brimstone about him,” said the smoker, “ Yes, sir, we keep it for our friends,” said the deliberate Uni verbalist .”—Hew Eedjord Standard.