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J, W. ANDERSON, Editor and Proprietor jx. oONG IN THE NIGHT. The dry leaves dropped upon the way, W'iik constant sound, like falling rain; X would give much this weary day To hear that sound again behind, with sharp and even rim, Black hills of cloud possessed the sky; A star was glimmering far and dim Through a faint light on high. The woods were dark, and all abroad The fields were dark, the pathways dim; HXy soul yearned for the living God Thro’ the thick cloud which foldeth Him. When all at once, up soared the moon, With sudden flood of tender light— A gracious flood; aud lo ! right soon Woods, fields, and ways were bright. The solemn trees stretched out their boughs And caught the light. With quiet mind, “Surely,” I said, “this is God’s house; Aud where men seek they find.” Tears filled mine eyes, but they were sweet; And, standing on the shining road, I knew what Spirits led my feet By darksome ways to God. — Good (fords. An Old Maid. BY LAURA COLLINS. [ A lowering morning which made one wish for the sunny South or for Italy, I or any place which would make one feel happier than could this dismal morning in Wisconsin. And then to think that this train could not make connection with I the eastward bound train ! It is hard i enough to stop at such a miserable little junction at any time, but to spend three hours here this dark morning must prove the very refinement of torture. There are a dozen passengers who must wait and who prepare to make the best of their stay here. One couple, ev¬ idently just married, find the clouds of a very rosy color, and they walk out of the smoky old depot to make a lour of the town, talking eagerly the while. Two young fellows wander uneasy about, reading all the old tattered posters, glowing inducements to go West, and ancient time-tables, which invariably decorate the stained walls of a country depot. These young fellows finally utter exclamations of impatience at the dreary monotony, and go across the street to the hotel, hoping to find some¬ thing there more congenial to them. Two ladies at once take their departure for the hotel, and other people stroll out about the depot, and there are left two persons, a man and woman, who, after a little time, settle themselves to reading to pass away the weary mo¬ ments, He reads his paper, she her book, and, occasionally, woman-like, she casts a look at her silent companion, wondering what loved ones are awaiting his arrival and whether he is impatient to greet them, or if he feels a man’s stoicism in regard to it; wondering, too, how it is that each woman thinks the masculine lives connected with hers so full of manly graces and beauty, aud who could find manly beauty iu those rugged features ? Then she turned her gentle eyes toward the window and looked out at the dreary landscape, looked with eyes which saw not outward objects, but were introspective solely. An old maid, commonly supposed to be the type of discontent and unrest; but here, evidently, the type fail ed, for this face expressed the utmost of conteut. Life had been filled with much of sor¬ row for her, all her bright plans bad failed of fruition; one after another she had bidden good-by to them aud had turned bravely again to face the coming of a new future, a future to be peopled again by her bright fancies—the old fancies all dead and gone from her ex¬ cept as they lingered in memory. An old maid she is, so far as years go, but no home is happier than her little ideal home. She has filled its rooms with bright little faces eagerly calling to mother and the dream-father is strong, earnest, helpful aud loving. Her dream home is happier far than many a fine lady’s real home; although she has noi pictured any graudeur about it. Qh, no, she dreams that the carpets are faded from much sunlight and worn from the tread of many little feet, that there is much planning to “make both ends meet,” but she has imagined unsel¬ fish living in this ideal home, and loving Unselfishness can make all trials in re¬ gard to ways and means seem very slight indeed. Her companion in this depot is an elderly person, a stout, large man, with keen eyes and a mouth at complete odds with the eyes, not belonging to them apparently. Often eyes do not harmonize in coloring with the rest of the face, but generally expressions are strongly akin. This man had a sen¬ sitive mouth, ono with a mournful droop to it. Those who looked at him caught themselves wondering which would eon qner—keen, hard eyes, or sensitive mouth. He r J for some time, then gave a quick look at the thonghtfnl face near him, and said, abruptly: “Not a very pleasant arrangement, this.” A quick flush passed over the gentle race liefnre him—a flash which his keen eyes noted instantly and understood—s flush which told of the girlishness yet left to this lonely woman “Not that it matters much to me tvhere I am,” he continued. “Life can’t give me anything harder than I’ve had.’’ “That is a sad thing to say,” she sa'rt, in her timid way. A true thing, though,” he respond¬ ed. and the comers of his sensitive mouth draped a little more. “I feel as if T She (louinnton Star. 'iad nothing left to live for. My wife ‘lied a year ago and—” here the vo : ce broke. Distress ever calls some souls out from their reserve, and hem was Ruch a one, and she said, quickly: “Ah, but you have all those vanishei days and months and years to remem her, all the loveliness of her life to think of now.” “How did yon know her life was lovely ?” he queried a little Rharply. She hesitated a moment and then said, simply: “It must have been, or you would no* miss her from your living so much,” a tribute to the manly worth in the face she saw before her, which was keenly relished bv the owner of the face. He sighed, and then looked for a time out of the smoky window, then said: "After all, life is a strange muddle,” and, re¬ ceiving a look of understanding in re sponse to this sentiment, he went on. “We don’t know what is right to do and yet we’re punished by fixed laws it we don’t do the right. That doesn’* seem just to me.” “Oh, but it will come out straight in the next life,” she cried, eagerly. “I don’t know whether it will or not,” he responded. “I haven’t seen the next life yet, and T don’t know what it is like—don’t even know if there will be a next life. I only know that we are hedged in and around in this life.” “But surely the next life will take away all the rough places of this,” she said ; “it will make us understand all that seems so strange about this, and— there mnst be a future life ; God surely wcukl not put us into this life and let si much go out of it incomplete. That seems to me the strongest reason for a future, that so many die with their life work only just begun.” “Is that a reason or a hope with you ?” he asked. She hesitated and did not answer, and just then one of the restless young men vho had been a fellow-passenger of theirs came in and glauced casually at the two. That glance made her self-conscious, and a blush dyed the delicate face, and she turned, in a decided way, the pages A her book, as if she were determined not to let the stranger get possession of her wandering thoughts again. The young man passed out of tho station, and the elderly one rose and walked restlessly about the room, knitting the shaggy brows occasionally at some troubled thought. Tho three hours passed, and 1 o’clock came, and a train came. “Can I assist you?” he asked gently, rei.chinu out a hard, brown band for some of the numerous bundles she was carrying. She handed some to him and followed his sturdy footsteps to the train. They wondered a little why their fellow-passengers of the morning were not in greater basts, but forgot them presently in the bustle of departure. He secured a pleasant seat for her and then one for himself at some dis¬ tance from her. A few minutes of wait¬ ing, of idle watching of the dark land¬ scape, so soon to be among remembered things, aud the tram moved slowly out of the town, and as it moved away another train steamed iu. She looked curiously at the second train, but re¬ membered that this was a junction and did not obey her first nervous impulse, which was to go to her whilom protector and ask him if he were sure they were on the right train. She forgot the train soon, and watched the stern, set face, and felt sorry for him, and wished he might feel as sure of the future as did she. Soon the conductor came, and she watched him as he made his way toward her. When he reached her protector, as she already called him in her inner consciousness, that individual gave a quick start at some words uttered by the conduotor, atter examination of his ticket. A troubled look settled upon the resolute face, and he conversed ear¬ nestly with the conductor a few mo¬ ments, then glanced at her and rose and came to her. “I told yon,” said he, “that we don’t know what is right- and then we get punished by unalterable laws, and here is a speedy illustration of the fact, only that I feel now that I might have known the right, if I had taken pains to in¬ quire. We are on the wroug train.” She looked deeply troubled, bat said, After a moment: “How can we get back?” "It is of no use to go back to that junction. We might as well go on to Chicago now and go from there; it will really take not much longer, and as yon trusted to my leading in the first place, I nil], if you will let me, see you safe out of this trouble.” “I am used to taking care of myself,” she said, but her lips trembled a little. "Where are you going?” he asked, and upon receiving his reply added: “I am going beyond there, so it will be no trouble to me to see y.ou safe. I will telegraph your dilemma to your frh nds at the next station; we shall reach Cbi cago m in two hours and the conductor tells me we can icmediately take anoth¬ er train back, so that really the worst of it will be the extrt four or five hours in the train.” He remained silting with her and chat fed lightly for a time, till her mind was somewhat diverted from the unpleasant ness of her situation. Gradually they wandered to deeper waters and talked main, as they had earlier iq the day, o< COVINGTON, GEORGIA, APRIL 29, 1885. the problems of life, and into these ries and answers of theirs orept ever anon a bit of the personal history each. He learned what a desolate life hers had seemed to be; he learned, too, what a sweet, cheery courage must uu derlie her whole being, that the lateness should have been so and he grew ashamed of his own repin¬ ing over a lot which had much of ness in it. When the train drew into the depot in Chicago he felt that he learned to know a pure soul, and she a deep pity for the lonely life opened her view. And as they took the train, which was to take them rapidly their destination, each felt a regret a few hours more would part them. He sat silent for a long time after this, wondering if he dared do the thing he wished. He was lonely, set adrift in the great world by the death of his wife, and he wanted a true, womanly heart to sympathize with his. Could he do bet¬ ter than ask this lonely woman, who had no kith or kin in the world, to share his lot with him ? Could she do better than take him, she who evidently had -ummer-land in her heart and could make a hit of brightness wherever she was? Each surely needed the other. He asked her if she knew aDy one in his town and finding she did know a person residing a few miles from him, he took his resolution quickly. “I have a good farm out there,” he said; “one hundred and sixty acres under flue improvement, house and out-buihl ings all iu fine shape. You can find out all about me from Mr. —.” A moment he hesitated as he saw that she did not realize what he meant; then he continued earnestly, looking down into the clear eyes lifted so fearlessly to his: “I feel as if I were looking into the eyes of my wife. Am I mistaken ?” The last words were breathed rather than ut¬ tered, and then she understood, and the flame color mounted over the delicate features once more, and she said quietly: “Do I look so much like your wife ?” He was baffled, and for a moment knew not what to say, then rallied and said: “She has gone on into the future. I don’t know what or where that life may be, and I am lost and lonely without her. I want that which has gone out ol my life, and I believe you can supply that want. You are alone in the world, and I can make your life pleasanter, I am sure. ” It was a temptation, sneh as only homeless ones can understand; but, after a moment, she shook her head, and then, reading the questioning look in those keen eyes, she said, while the color deepened in her face: “I loved once, and have loved ever since, and it would not be right for me to marry any one, feeling as I do.” The door opened, and the brakeman called out the name of the place where she was to stop, and the next moments were spent in gathering together her belongings. He helped her off the train, and grasped her hand heartily as he stood one instant there: “I shall always remember you and your happy ways of looking at life, and your faith will help me;” and then he swung on to the slowly-moving train, and she walked away into the gloaming, a tear or two falling as she thought of the lonely days to come.—The Current. Davy Crockett’s Gun The Little Bock (Ark.) Gazette says: The reporter had the pleasure of handling Col. Davy Qrockett’s old gun recently. It was in the State Treasur¬ er’s office, where it had been left by “Col. Bob,” Davy’s grandson, now in the Arkansas Senate. The gun is a long barreled, silver mounted affair, and along the top of the barrel, in gold let¬ ters, reads the inscription : “Presented by the young men of Philadelphia to Hon. David Crockett, of Tennessee.” Near the muzzle, just back of the bead, was the Colonel s motto: ‘ Go Ahead. Many of the letters were so worn as to be almost indistinguishable, and some of them were gone completely. The gun has come down from sire to son in the Crockett |family ever since it was pre¬ sented in 1834. To the reporter “Col. Bob,” who now owns the gun, said: “There is not a gun in Arkansas to-day which will shoot truer, 1 killed hun dreds of deers with it, and think more of it than I can tell. My grandfather left it at home when he went to Texas, taking with him his old flint-lock. It is a rare old gun and a great curiosity. I have been requested to send it to the Exposition at New Orleans, and shall do in short time. ’ so a Cape Nathaniel Palmer, of Ston ington, the original discover of Palmer’s Land, furthest south of all known land, tells the following story of the way he save j the discovery. He was getting rea dy to leave it when a Russian frigate hove in sight. Capt. Palmer was am bitious to claim the land for the United states. How to contend with the ship of , he Czar he did not know at first. He waited till the frigate ran to the lee wnrd of him and hove to, and then he P ut U P his sheet squared away foi her, running under her stern, and call iDg on t as he shot past: Ahoy there I s hip ahoy 1 do yon want a pilot m . The ruse sncceeded, for the Russian frig ate at once filled away, and left the dominion free to the Stars and Smpee. THE LIME-KILN CLUB. WO it MS OF WISDOM FROJI DISE HALL. t Envy Steals Into the Quiet {Meeting nnu Three Prouilneut Member* their Positions. The excitement whioh has among certain of the older members the olub came to a climax evening. What occasioned the ment was kept a profound secret a dozen, but it may be stated here the rumpus was kicked up by Sunflower Smythe, a local member a harelip and toes turning in. For some weeks past the professor hankered for an oflioial position, failing to secure recognition of his mer its, he organized a conspiracy to de¬ throne Brother Gardner. By circulat¬ ing many false statements, and by forg¬ ing the names of several individual S to false documents, he enlisted the sympa¬ thies of Elder Antimony Swift, Deacon Cohort Davis and Judge Cut-Off Kem par berry. He approached Huckleberry Tompkins with the plan, and even went so far as to offer him a new fifty-eent door-mat to join the conspiracy, but Brother Tompkins was true blue, and gave the whole affair away. When the meeting was called to order the three conspirators were in their seats, entirely unsuspicious of the sand club which was hanging over their heads, while the president, Sir Isaac Walpole, Way down Bebee, and others in the ring, carried very serious counte¬ nances. The plot of the conspirators was not yet fully ripe. Prof. Smythe was just settling himself down to sound Elder Toots in the matter, when Brother Gardner rose up and said: “ F.uvy am de parent of half de wick¬ edness in dia world. One of de fust principles of human natur’ am to be¬ grudge some odder pusson’s good luck, but de minit common sense am called in fur consultation dis envy disappears— except in isloated cases. “ We envy de rich, while it am p’raps aur own fault entirely dat we am not classed among ’em. “We envy talent, an’ yet we am fo’ced to acknowledge to ourselves dat we frew away our opportuntie3. . “ Find me a man who am down on his fellowman on gineral principles an’ I’ll show ye a chap who orter be in Btate Prison by de same rule. “ De Lawd put us heah fur each to make his own way. De field am world¬ wide, wid plenty of room fur all. If one, by his applicashun, perseverance, in¬ tegrity an’ determination, towers above de one who waits fur itick an’ feeds his soul on envy, any conspiracy to pull him down should be sot down on by all good men. Brudders Smythe, Swift an' Davis, I should like to see de three of you at de foot of the grand staircase. Dar’ am a leetle matter dat I wish to discuss in private. The trio of conspirators were evidently greatly surprised at the request, but suspected nothing and followed the President down stairs. As no one else was permittted to follow, it may never be known what happened on the laud¬ ing. What the meeting heard may, however, throw some genera! light upon the subject. 1. Yells of terror. 2. Sounds of heels striking the walls. 3. Sounds of cloth being ripped and torn, and boot heels striking the fence on the other side of the alley. 4. Bump— kerchunk—thud—deep si¬ lence. 5. The echoes of the toe of a No. 13 boot striking against coat tails. Soon after these last-mentioned sounds had died away Brother Gardner entered the room with a sweet smile on his face, anu walked straight to his seat without a word. There was blood on his left ear, the polish was worn off his right boot, aud one end of his collar was unbut¬ toned, but this might have happened to any man who had fallen down stairs. Misser President, shall I cross de three names off de book?” asked the Secretary. “De Cha’r reckons you may,” was the answer, “an’ we will now take up de reg’lar bill o’ fare.” Teaching the Deaf How to Talk. THE LORDS FRAYKB DISTINCTLY UTTERED BY A BOY ONCE A DEAF MUTE. Mr. N. F. Whipple, principal of the Oral School for Dear Mutes, at Mystic, Conn., explained in the Plymouth lec¬ ture room, Brooklyn, the system o teaching articulation to the deaf and dumb. He introduced on the platform a boy who had been deaf from bis birth, and who repeated the Lord’s Prayer loud enough to be heard in the rear of the room, The boy spoke with mneh distinctness, Long and difficult words suggested by the andienoe were prompt jy interpreted by another deaf boy as they fell from Mr. Whipple’s lips. Enoch Whipple, over 60 years of age, who was the first deaf mute taught ( 0 speak in this country, read a chapter from Jeremiah, and related how m early childhood he had learned the powei of gpeech fr o m watching the movements of i,i* father s lips. whjch thp As a test ot wh ipple system has been’ ^ j£af had the ng ‘ had a boy mterpret his , ltteranoee ^ br watch mg the shadows made on the wsU by lips. Fonvardlug Garden Tegefaftleg. When the gardener gives a plant a special advantage the result of which is to cause it to produce or mature earlier than it otherwise would, he is said to “forward” it. Tomatoes will bear long before frost, if the seeds are sown in the open ground. By sowing seeds in a hot¬ bed and raising the plants the tomato is forwarded. I! the seeds were sown last fall, and the plants kept in a hot-house to produce fruit in the early spring, that would be “forcing.” Cucumbers are forced under glass, but they may also be forwarded. For illustration: to for¬ ward the oucumber, fill some four-inch pots with fine, rich soil, sow half a dozen cucumber seeds iu each and set the pots in a hot-bed, or stand them in a box which can be set on the sill of the kitch¬ en window. Another method of starting the seeds, if a good piece os turf can be had, is this: Take up a thick, strong sod and fit it to a shallow box with the grassy side down. The sides of the box need not be over three inches high. With a strong knife, cut the sod into squares, which should be according to the size of the box, three or four inches square. Cut quite down through the grass roots and tops to the bottom of the box, to make sure that the pieces can be separated readily. Sow several seeds in the earth of each piece of sod, which is of course bottom or earth-side up. Set this box o! sods in the window or in a hot-bed, aa directed for the pots. Either pols or sods must be watered as needed. When the seeds are up and the plants begin to show their rough leaves, remove all but two or three in each pot, or piece of sod. Do not pull out the extra plants, as it will disturb the roots of those which are to be left, but out them off with a knife, or pinch them off with the thumb and fin¬ ger nails, close to the ground. When the weather is settled, prepare well manured hills in the garden. Set the pots in a pail or tub of blood-warm water and let them soak until the earth in them is wet through. Take them out and let them drain for an hour or two, when the ball of earth, with the cucumber roots, may be removed from the pot with a slight knock, and set in the hill, pressing the soil well around it. If the cucumber plants are on pieces of sods, about a week before planting out these, run a knife along the outs made at the beginning, before the seeds were sown. Some of the grass roots may have grown across from one piece to an¬ other; this will sever them, also any cu¬ cumber roots that have grown out of bounds. In planting these, set the sod containing the plants in the hill, letting it be an inch or so below the surface, and press the soil to it firmly. There should be prepared, beforehand, some frames or bottomless boxes over each hill of plants, and leave it there a few days. After this, on warm and pleasant mornings, remove the frame, setting it on that side of the plants from which the wind blows, to protect them. In the afternoon, before it grows cold, cover the frames over the plants for the night. On ohilly days leave the frame over the plants, lifting it on one side at the bot¬ tom, and placing a stone to hold it up. By the time the plants become tc»o large for the boxes, the weather will be warm enough to expose them night *nd day. Treated in this manner the p antt will boar several weeks before those Iron seed sown in the open ground. They have been "forwarded” by sowing the seeds under glass, or in the house; pre¬ serving them from any check, by cover¬ ing them after they were planted oat, has also forwarded them. Attention to watering and an occasional treat of liquid manure will forward them still more. Many other plants may be forwarded in a similar manner. But closely follow the directions given.— Agriculturist. What a Sponge Is. “It is only the skeleton of a sponge that is commonly used in removing dirt,” Prof. Bickmore says, “ A sub stance that in the animal sponge is an alagons to the finger nails of the human hand. The sponges are found in vari eras portions of the world, gathered in masses below the surface of the water. The youthful sponge first makes its ap¬ pearance on the outer border of the adult iu the form of a cell, which gradually increases in size and complexity until it bursts through the maternal tissue and floats at freedom through the ocean. It ja very minute, and for a time has an independent life. It is sowing its wild oats, so to speak, but as it increases in size it attatches itself to its more ma Hire brothers and sisters and develops with them into adult form. SjKmges it-.' gathered by means of grappling hooks. They are floated to inclosed portions of the sea, where they are left until the exposure of the 6un and tho wash of the Bea leaves nothing but the skeleton.” He Wants It.—A n Arizona paper re¬ marks: “Our craven contemporary pre¬ tends that it doesn't want any office. That is too thin, as everybody knows how it tried to get the post, office and taj* We don’t often boast, but we ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ jn the wav it 6 hould be run, and what is more, we believe we shall get it. Any - bow. we are not afraid to say that we want it, and will do everything we can to teg get it. Our contemporary is • ‘ ^ ^ ^ VOL. XI, NO 24. The Big Connecticut Baby. The Norwalk (Oonn.) Hour prints an interesting account of the year-old baby who weighs seventy-five pounds. It says: “The mother, a slight little woman who weighs, perhaps, twenty pounds more than her son, tugged away at his royal highness and finally managed to seat him upon a lounge, and the re¬ porter was given every opportunity for examining him. The boy has an unusu¬ ally pretty faoe, large, bright blue eyes and light hair, which has a tendency to curl, ilia complexion is fair and his little nose has just enough ‘pug’ about it to be interesting. His arms are so large that it is with difficulty that he can raise them to his head, while his legs are simply great bunches of fat, which are utterly incapable of sustaining the weight of his body. The boy took a great fanoy to the reporter’s hat and rained sledge-hammer blows upon the crown with his fists until liis mother took it away and gave him two sad-irons to play with. The irons weighed six pounds each, and the boy appeared to handle them as easily aa an athlete han¬ dles a pair of twenty-pound dumb bells. Ho moves about on the floor with a peculiar hitching motion that is very amusing. He has eighteen teeth and eats, his mother says, almost everything excepting pastry and oandy. The boy is bright as a dollar, very active, consid¬ ering his great weight, and well-propor¬ tioned from the top of his curly head to the soles of his chubby feet. When '>orn Sammy weighed between four and ive pounds, and when three months old he weighed only ten pounds. At the end of six months his weight had in¬ creased to forty pounds, and now at the age of 13 months, he weighs about seventy-five. The father of the boy, Mr. Henry Tompkins, is employed by Fancher, Rusco & Co. He is a native of Armouk, N. Y. Mrs. Tompkins was born in Sligo, Ireland. The couple are of ordinary height and build. They were married in 1875, and this, their first child, was born in Vista. The youngster has never been sick a day.” Took Them All In. There is a French barber at Colum¬ bus , Texas, named La Prelle, who is rather an eccentric genius, aud he was on bis way to the station to meet the train, when he was spied by five young men. One of them named Smith, had a six-shooter, and it was agreed that they were all to lie quietly in wait, 8nd that when La Prelie approached, Smith was to confront him with his revolver and order “Hands up !” Tho unsuspect¬ ing victim approached, and Smith, in regular highway robber style, ordered him lo hold his hands up. But the barber made a dash at Smith, and by a violent wrench of his arm secured his pistol. He corraled Smith and his four companions and inarched them at the point of the revolver back to town and telephoned from the nearest place to the Sheriff’s office for him and his Depu¬ ties to come after them. The young men entreated and pleaded most elo¬ quently and tried to jxplain that the affair was only a joke, but La Prelle would not believe it. The Sheriff con¬ fiscated the pistol of the prisoner but as they were all yonng men of good families he let them off on parole. They will be tried however, in regular form, and besides having to fee lawyers will have to pay a fine for carrying deadly weap¬ ons. A Tramp Defends Ladles. Information is given of a sensatioual occurrence near Wadesboro, N. C., on Tuesday evening. An Irish tramp called at a house occupied by two ladies and asked for lodging. They at first refused his request, but finally agreed to lock him in a closet, where he was to remain all night About 12 o’clock the ladies were waked by a negro who had come into the room, He threatened to kill them if they made an outcry and de¬ manded money, which one of the ladies said she would get. She then went to the closet and unlocked the door, when the tramp, who had heard the whole conversation, sprang out, pistol iu hand. The negro started to run, but the tramp fired, killing him instantly. Shortly after it was discovered that the supposed negro was a white maD, who had black¬ ened himself and invaded the house. He was recognized as a near neighbor of the ladies. The Giant Chang’s Fiancee. “Yes, I am to be married,” said Chang, “but 1 am at a loss to know bow the report got out, as I tried to keep it secret. The 1 atly’s name ? Oh, I couldn’t tell you that, but will say she resides in Kansas City, Mo., and is worth over 8200,000, She is very large, being six feet six inches in height and weighs two hundred and fifty pounds. Her father didn’t relish the prospect of a Chinese son-in-law, but has finally consented on condition that I don’t take his daughter to China. So I have prom¬ ised to remain in America and start a tea store, probably in Philadelphia. You know I and my brothers own a tea plan¬ tation in China. When I do beoome an American resident I think they ongbt to let me vote. You Bee I am so large bulidose me. z 1 STRAY BITS OF ITOMOR FOUND in THE JOKERS’ BUDGETS OF OUR PAPERS. Very Sweet TUInnu-Belween the Acts—Pre paring lor the Vlrlt—The Level-Header {Merchant, Etc., Etc. PREPARING FOR IT. * Mr. De Style—My dear, you know this is Lent ? Mrs. De Style—Of course. “And it is not the thing to go to the theatre ?” “Certainly not” “Nor the opera ? “No.” “Nor any other expensive place of amusement ?” “Exactly.” “And no one can complain if the diet of the family is of the very simplest de scription ?” “Of course not; but I know all this, and am sure we have not made a mis¬ take in way of these ways. What are you drivmg at, any how V’ “I was thinking, my dear, it would be a good time to invite Uncle Jake’s fami’y to leave the farm and make us a visit You know we mnst go there agi.in this summer.”— Phila. CalL HE DIDN T MARRY FOR BEAUTY. “I hear that Swarkins is married again.” “Yes, he’s hitched again for a fact.” “Have you seen his wife?” “Yes.” “Is she good-looking ?” “Oh, no; Bhe’s a very plain body, but as strong as an ox. You see, he didn’t care so much for beauty. What he wanted was a woman who could dig potatoes and make them youngsters of his walk the chalk.” WHERE THEY HAVE THE BEST OF US. Life must be very pleasant in the Congo. Instead of a man having to rush home at 1 p. M. to give his wife four hours’ time to prepare for the opera aud then wait another half hour on the front steps until the two hundred and odd forgotten things are found and ar¬ ranged, the Congo husband strolls home a few minutes before the performance begins and simply says, “Sarah, adjust your hairpin. We will go to the opera.” —Pittsburgh Telegraph. THE PROPHET. “Go in there, El Mahdi," said the doctor, who lived opposite the roller¬ skating rink, as be placed a two-dollar bill in his wallet whioh he had just re¬ ceived from a skater for dressing his scalp. “El Mahdi 1” exclaimed the patient, “why do you call the bill El Mahdi ?” “Because it is the fall’s profit, you know,’ replied the doctor, as he smil¬ ingly showed the patient out .—Boston Courier. BETWEEN THE ACTS “Too bad I had to go out to 6ee that ticket-seller about seats for next week,” he remarked to his new wife as he set¬ tled himself down after a trip down stairs between acts, “The affair quite slipped my mind as we came in. Were you annoyed, my dear?” “Oh, no I I didn’t mindin the least, tlianK yon. I was quite busy working out a mental problem.” “Aud what was that, love?” “Why they call the front curtain the drop.” “I see. Did you succeed ?” “Yes, I think I got the correct an¬ swer. ” “And that was” "Because so many men go out for drop when it is down, my dear.”— Detroit Journal. A LEVEL-HEADED MERCHANT The merchant now devises A plan brisk trade to wio He straightway advertises And rakes the shiekels in —Boston Courier. W HAT SHE WANTED TO HEAR. “And so you like the yarns we sea dogs spin?’’ asked the gallant young mariner. “1 dote on them,” the young ladi passionately responded. “And what shall I tell you of the doings of our salts ?” he tenderly asked. “Oh, tell me how you luff,” she inno cently answered.—Pittsburgh Chronicle. OFF IT GOES. Stolid proprietor of German restau¬ rant to new waiter—Dot letter for you, eh ? You was der Baron von Schinkel berg? Mein New waiter, meekly — Yes, Herr. Stolid proprietor—Den you wasn t no .•eckuiar waiter, eh? Veil, dake a dol¬ lar a veek off your vages .—Puck, AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE. A German went into a restaurant, and, as he took his seat an Irish waiter came up and bowed politely. “Wie Geht’s,” said the German, also oowing politely. “Wheat cakes,” shouted the waiter, mistaking the salutation for an order. “Nein, nein 1” said the German. “Nine ?” said the waiter. “You’ll be lucKy if you get three.”— N. ¥. Sun. A SEA VOYAGE. “Is there a remedy for seasickness, doctor ?” “Not altogether, but it can be greatly relieved. Do you want it for yourself?” “Yes; I am a naval officer, and under the new order of things I may have to leave Washington.”