Newspaper Page Text
WAIFS AM) WHIMS.
An unpleasant relation—a carb-uncle.
The favorite composer at the gardens
- my bet r-
Rye is tabooed in Gibraltar. Plenty
of rock, through.
A calk's tongue ia to be preferred
to a lice’s stung.
How to remove widow’* weeds: Say
“ wilt thou ” and they wilt.
A gamester calls his fortuue E
/>>uribus unum because it is won of mauy.
When the world comes to an end,
what will be done with it? The end, we
mean.
The Yassar girl never says “jim
jams.” She euphonizes it into. 11 James
multitudes.”
Raising a structure is like raising a
baby—great care should be used in the
underpinning.
A great many men who start out to
reform the world leaves themselves off
for the last job.
Someone says a man must either be
an anvil or a hammer. But how many
are nothing but bellows?
I.ady Lindsay* thinks the violin
“ promises to become a favorite with
the sweeter sex.” Oh. fiddle!
Nevada is the place for cowslips.
One man has lost fourteen this year
which slipped over a precipice.
Some people put stockings on their
hens to keep them from scratching, but
a better plan is to “ shoo ” them.
They Want anew name for the terri
tory that is to be cut off from the top
of Dakota, xlow would Sittinbul do?
An Irishman says he can see no
earthly reason why women should not
be allowed to become medical men.
The trouble with too many in thiß
world is that they want reserved seats
everywhere except in the family circle.
“My lord," said the foreman of an
Irish jury when giving in the verdict,
“we find the man who stole the mare
not guiltv ”
Some colored men will digall day if
to'd'there is a half dollar buried in a
certain spot, but they will not dig a cel
lar for less than one dollar and fifty
cents a day.
When yesterday I asked you, love.
One little word to say.
Your brother interrupted us;
So please say, yes-ter-day.
—Forrlstoun Herald.
Tutor—“ Come, now, Mr. B , give
me a familiar example of Hogarth’s line
of grace. Can’t you think of it? It’s a
curved article that you see every day.”
Mr. B (desperatelv)—“A—a—pret
zel.”
A COUNTRY newspaper out west thus
heads its report of a fire: “Feastof the
Fire Fiend—The Forked-Tongued De
mon Licks with its I.urid Breath a
Lumber-Pile! —Are the Scenes of Bos
ton to be Repeated?—Loss 150 doll.”
A bright son of a dyer in a Birming
ham woollen factory went to New York
a few years ago in the employ of L
<& T . By attention to business he
advanced from* post to post, and now
has the whole charge of the business
and is a millionaire. What became of
L & T is not stated. However,
that has nothing to do with the moral.
—Danbury Niwt.
Two Clearing Houses.
The folio* ir§ ls t*k*H from an edi
torial articl* in Daily Commercial
Bulletin, Two Great Clear
ing Houses:” ,
“ The return'of the London Bankers
tfiUeißg House, tor the year ending”
April 30, do not indicate such a degree
of commercial depression as might be
inferred from the general tenor of trade
retorts during the period. The total
clearings for the year amounted to
£5,2(35,976,000, an increase on the pre
vious year of £380,885,930. or at the
rate of 7J per cent.
“ A comnarison of the transactions of
the Clearing Houses of London and New
York—the two largest setting centres in
the world—presents some points of in
lere>t. London is the financial centre
for 30,000,000 of population and $3,150,-
000 000 of foreign commerce; and New
York is the setting point for 40,000,000
of population and $1,250,000,000 of
foreign trade. The transactions at the
Clearing Houses of ti e two cities, for
each of (he last ten years, compare as
follows—;tLe Ixindon year ending April
•m and the New York year Septem
ber^:
New York. Londm.
IS74N $ frfi 33-1 non (00
’fZ* 1 24 663,000,080 24 12 VOO 0 0
"i* ... 19 674 0 0.000 27,066,000 000
'*'* s ”'"2,000 000 to 065 000,000
48 3 20.861).imat 000 (9 968,000,000
is" 3 33 672 000,0(0 w-“iuifOCQo
471-2 32,637 000,000 OOOWO
470-1 19,*‘00 007 000 000
lhe clearings of the two cities, how
ever, are now beginning to clotelv ap
proximate those for 1878-79 showing
slight balance in favor of New York, I
and it is probable, from the drift at the
two centers, that New York will hence- ’
forth take the lead again- fa*
these data measure the amount of busi
ness actually done at the two cities, l,
would be impossible to determine, ex
cept through an analysis of the
methods of credit and of conducting
business in the two countries much too
extended for our columns. The facts,
however, do moßt strikingly illustrate
the great contraction of business that
fcllowed the reaction of 1873; and they
show how much more severe the con
traction was in this country than in
T3 1-
Making Calls In Paris.
Tbe French madnme daily performs
these rites of society as devotedly as she
sais her prayefrs. In her carriage are
placed the necessaries for a long round
of calls. She has a bunch of violets or
tea roses and mar by the hand-glass, the
scent-bottle, the pin-cushion, the bon
bonniere filled with cough lozenges or
fraerant candy drops, the card-case
and tbe small gold pencil case, which
marks off each social duty when dis
charged. Now that the carriage is
ready ard at the door, madame comes
down and settles herself for a comfort
able time with a novel, which, accom
panied by a silver powder box and puff,
is nearly always wi'h her. The carriage
is as sombre in coloring as the cogtume
—olive green, chocolate bro**.., navy
blue—in the simple English style now
becoming so fashionable in Paris. No
cockade is to be seen on the men’s hats.
As in England the cockade is confined
to tbe servants of those holding official
appointments and to the superior officers
of the army, and any one who was to
dress their servants in this way would
only be laughed at and ridiculed.
A CLV rgyman was recently prosecuted
in England tor steeling an umbrella,
which he had taken from a shop in a
shower. He was released, the judge
doubtless charging the jury “Let him
who is without sin among you sling the
lir-i umbrella.’'— Buffalo Courier.
Hamilton Journal.
UMAR * DENNIS. Publishers.
VOL. VIII.—NO- *2B.
Drug Store Curiosities.
A man recently stepped into n drug
store and said to the clerk, with the con
fident air of one who knew exactly what
be wanted:
“ Got any roach powder?”
• “ Ob, yes,” was the bland reply.
The apothecary threw open a glass
case, and immediately placed upon the
counter in front of his customer a bot
tle of “Sure Death to Cockroaches.”
“ Tell me how it works ?”
“Certainly! You take a pinch of the
Dowder between thumb ana finder, hold
ft down near the crevice, and give it a
puff—so. It’ll be sure to kill ’em.”
“Kill ’em! Heavens! The powder’s
for my old woman. Kill ’em! Not
much!” and the old man shook his
aead. 1
Inquiry developed the fact that it was
Rochelle, not roach powder, that had
been recommended for the “ old wo
man,” and the correct article was soon
supplied.
A reporter, hearing of this adventure,
asked the druggist if many such cases,
resulting from ignorance or carelessness,
came under his notice?
“ They occur almost daily,” was the
reply, “ and are not only confusing, but
superlatively ridiculous. What could
you say to' this, for insianee ? ” Here
were displayed a number of the order
that had been received from various
customers, among them the following:
“ Pleas giv the barer 5 sent* worth of
onika! ” (arnica). “ Bend me to pounds
of Lickrich.” “ I want a 1 8 lb. Grimi
tator” (cream of tartar). “Send me
some maganisha fora tisig.*’ “ Ten cents
worth of hole Siniman.” “ Twenty-five
sents of heir dressing.” “ Pleas send me
some said peter.” The spelling of some
of these has been somewhat improved
and the punctuation attended to. The
writers generally seem to think that
they, must car,fully state the purposes
applying the articles sent for. One
writes for “ Ten cents’ worth cologne to
smell a trunk with; ” another for “ two
coughing stioks of candy.” One wants
“sticking plaster,” having changed
the fourth letter of the first word from
“c ” to “ n.” Here is a horrible case:
“Send me a pickax for my little Kiri-”
Druggists formerly did a large busi
ness in decalcomanies, or transfer pic
tures. One asks: “Give me fifty cats
and dogs, and ten tigers;” another, “ I
want a little girl.”
Customers generally imitate the arti
cles they desire. There is called for:
“Hope and dell dock” (opodeldoc,)
“ paintkiller,” “ titter rintment,” “ "um
mare back,” and “laddynum.”
a Slander on Woman.
(Graphic.]
An old lady of Louisville kept it up
in this style for half an > hour,a± the,
druggist’s and with the following re
sult:
Old Lady “ How much is this
bottle?”
Druggist—“ One dollar and thirty
cents, ma’am, if you take but one, or
twelve dollars a dozen.”
“ How did you say I must keep it?
“ You must keep it on its side, ma’am,
until you want to use it.”
“ Yes. Well, my daughter told me
to get this particular preparation. It’s
the right kind, isn’t it?”
Yes, ma’am. We only keep that,
brand.”
“ How much did you say it was?
“ One dollar and thirty cents a single
bottle; but if you take a dozen —”
“ I thought you said it wss only $1 a
bottle.”
“ If you take a dozen—”
“ Did you say it must be kept on the
side until it’s used ?” .
“ Yes, ma’am; and if you uncork it,
it must be all used at once.”
“ You’re sure it’s the right brand i
“ O, yes; we keep no—”
“ A dollar a bottle?”
“If you take a dozen; but a SI.BO a
gißglg,’*
“ I thought you said $1 a bottle.”
“ If you take a dozen.”
“ But I don’t want a dozen.”
“ a ?iii£le b>ttle will be $1.30.”
> “ And 1 must keep it q its Bide
until used?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“ Well, I’ve a great mind to take a
bottle, i think it’s wliat my daughter
\ wanted me to get. Do you sell less than
a bottle?”
, “ No, ma’am.”
“ And a whole single bottle is $1.30?”
! “ Yes, ma'am."
• “ Well, I think I’ll go home and talk
bn my daughter about it. How much
did you say it was?”
They Met and Parted.
[Detroit Free Fre.3
il Now liken/’ RAV9 tramp No. 1 to No.
2 as they turned into Montcalm street
from Woodward avenue the other day,
“ here is the game: you walk down the
street and ring the bell of some house.
When the lady”answers, you tell her that
you haven’t had anything to eat for three
Says. If she says she don’t care, tell her
that you are desperate and ready to com
mit any crime. If she starts to slam the
door on you, hold it open with your foot
and roll your eyes and look savage, i’ll
arrive just about then, and I’ll take you
by the neck, slam you around and pitch
you out of the yard. I’m the lady’s
protector and the hero of the hour, you
see. I’ll be very modest and claw off,
but I’ll tell her I’m a stranger and need
a quarter to buy food. She'll hand it
over, and I’ll join you around the corner
and divide. See?”
“Magnificent!” replied No. 2. “You
ought to be in the United States Senate!
Well, here 1 go.”
He passed down the street and selected
a house, and th<* programme was care
fully followed out until he reached the
point where he said he was desperate.
At that instant the hall door was pulled
wide open, and a six-foot husband shot
out with his rigM hand and mocked
No. 2 clear oft the lower step No. 1
was just rust ig in, and six-footer
thought he migh as well kill two birds
with one stone, so he gave him one on
the iaw, and when tired of walking
around on their prostrate bodies he
flung them over tH fence. Tbe tramps
limped down to -ue comer, looked at
each other in deep disgust, and, then
separated forever.
THK MOHS' OKF.SS A KKI'KIPT.
[The following cmUms story is reprinted from a
rare copy of the Connecticut Gaxetteot June 28, 1778,
priutwi in New London, for which, says the New
London Telegram, we are indebted to the courtesy
of nn eminent bihlitigrapher, who quaintly remarks
that he sends it to us, as it may answer equally well
for the present day. It certainly proves that the
fashions of a century gone were not considered a
whit leas extravagant than uow, and that feminine
apparel, no matter what form it takes, is always held
fair game for the wits of the times. 1
(live Chloe a bushel of horse hair and wool,
Of paste and pomat um a jtouiul:
Ten yards of gay ribbon to deck her sweet skull,
And gauze to encompass it round.
Of all the bright colors the roinl>ow displays
Be these ribbons which hang on her head;
Be her flounces adapted to make the folas gaze,
Aud above the whole work be they spread.
Let her flaps fly behind for a yard at the least,
Let her ourfc oH- just un ter her ahiu;
lxt these curia l>e supported, to keep up the Jest,
With one hundred, instead of one, pin.
Let her gown be tucked up to the hip on each side;
Shot's too high for to walk or to jump,
And to deck the sweet creature complete for a bride,
Let the cork cutter make her a rump.
Thus finished In taste, while on Chloe you gaze,
You may take the dear charmer for life;
But never undress her—for, out of her stays
You’ll find you lmvelost half your wife
lIIM IIOXOK AND 111JAH
His Honor came in with stately tread,
And this to Bijah he straightway said:
“ Old man, how long is the list to-day,
Of men and women you’ve looked away?”
And Bijah answered, with a look benign:
“ I’ve counted up and the count is thine.”
“ The world is wicked,” his Honor sighed,
** And crime floats on with even tide.”
And Bijah he heaved a bigger sigh,
And softly said he didn’t deny
That drunks aud rows were getting to lie
Every-day sights for folks to sec.
And family fights they did increase,
To help disturb the public peace,
While rob be l-s had become so bold
That day-light raids were uothiug old.
If things kept on he didn’t Know
Where on earth tho world would go.
—Detroit Free Prexs.
H MT WITH YOUR II AMIS.
BY J. W. KILBY.
O t-uch iue witu' your hands
For pity’s sake!
My brow throl* ever on with such an aehu
As only your cool touch may take away,
And so I pray
You, tauch me with : our hands!
Touch—touch me with your hand).
Smooth back the hair
You once caressed and kissed and called so fair
1 even dreamed its gold would wear nlway,
And 10, to-day -
O touch me with your hands!
Just touch me with your hands,
And let them press
My weary eyelids with the eld caress,
And lull me till I sleep—then go your way
That death may Bay:
“ He touched me with his hands!”
Tribune.
THE RIGHTFUL HEIR.
For some weeks the engagement be
tween the Earl of Beauvray and Miss
Millicent Moyle had been chronicled in
the fashionable intelligence of newspa
pers, and the marriage was appointed to
take place in July. There were many
who considered Miss Moyle a lucky girl,
lor Lord Beauvray was not only of an
cient family, young, immensely wealthy
i and well looking, but he was popular
everywhere, owing to his sunny temper
and uprightness ot character. Lord
Beauvray had been merry without being
dissolute. He was the most irreproach
able of gentlemen, just as his betrothed,
Miss Moyle, was the fairest flower amoDg
that bouquet of pretty girls who had
been presented at court in the same
season as herself. Millicent Moyle was
a rich heiress as well as a pretty girl;
but this was about all that could be
said of her. Her father, Josiah Moyle,
a bill discounter of Lombard street was
a “ new man ” of the city plutocracy.
It was said that the peer’s relatives had
been much scandalized on hearing of
His Lordship’s intention to marry the
daughter of a man whose antecedents
were just a little misty.
One sunny afternoon just a fortnight
before the date fixed for the marriage a
brougham with a coronet on the panels
clattered up to Mr. Moyle’s business
house and Lord Beauvray alighted
ghastly pale The hull porter was
Startled by his appearance not less than
hv the broken voice in which he inquired
if Nr. Moyle had left. Just then Mr.
Moyle himself strutted out, all glorious
with a geranium in his coat and a white
hat perched acock on his-pointed gray
head. “Ahl Beauvray!” cried he, with
cheerful welcome, but perceiving the
look on the peer’s face he exclaimed:
“ Why, what’e the matter? Wot ill, I
hope!”
“ No, not ill, but I want to speak to
you in private,” said Beauvray, hoarsely.
“Shall we go off in the phaeton?’
stammered Air. Moyle, full of uneasi
ness.
“No, into your room ; but let us be
quite alone,” repeated the Earl, and he
himself led the way to the office.
Plumping down into the arm-chair at
the writing-table, Mr. Moyle stared in
bewilderment while the peer sat down
opposite and produced a blue envelope
with several blck seals. Laying this
on the table, Beauvray placed his hand
on it and looked into the financier’s
eyes.
“ Mr. Moyle,” said he sadly,” “ I have
a painful communication to make, but
I will not beat about the bush. I find
that I have no legal right to the title
which I bear, or to the fortune which I
am using.”
“Eh! what?” exclaimed Mr. Moyle,
with a grasp.
“ I made the discovery this morning,
in rummaging through a box of deeds,”
continued Lord Beauvray, whose
voice grew steadier. “ You know that
I inherited the title from my uncle.
He was the eldest of three brothers.
My father, the youngest, died whilst I
was a boy; my second uncle died a few
years later, and we fancied he had been
a bachelor, butic appears that he had
been clandestinely married, and left a
son —a lad whom you know, by the way,
for I have sen him in your house. His
name is Timburel.”
“Timburel?” echoed Mr. Movie with
a start. “ Young Timburel, who used
to be clerk in our firm, and whom I dis-
“ DUM 3PIR<L SPERO.”
HAMILTON, (iA., JULY 8, 1880.
missed for presuming to make love to
our Millie!”
“ I was not aware of those particu
lars,” said Lord Beauvray; “ but young
Timburel is the man; he bears his
mother’s name (she was an actress), and
we used to think he was the natural son
of my second unde; but his parents
were lawfully married.”
“ And do you mean to say that Tlm
bnrel—a vulgar, conceited upstart, who
is living on his wits at (his moment
with not a shilling in his pock, t i’ll l>>
bound—do you mean to say ho has be
come F-arl of Beauvray?”
“ Not only that, but lie becomes abso
lute owner of all my estates and prop
erty. My ixior father left me a mere
pittance. When 1 haw put Timburel
in possess’on of his owt. T shall have
nothing but my c0m,..,, bn In th
Guards and about three hundred a
year.”
“ Come, come, don’t say such bosh,”
blurted out old Moyle, grasping his
nose again. It had just, occurred to him
that Lord Beauvray was hoaxing.
“He wants to find out whether our
Millie loves himself or his title,” re
flected the moneyed man. Hut in a mo
ment this idea was dispelled *by Lord
B auvray displaying the contents of
his envelope—a marriage certificate aud
a number of letters which substantiated
the story. Then he entered into ex
planation*. It seems that his uncle, the
Hon. Col. de Yray, being in garrison at
Malta, had privately married an Italian
actress named Timbureili After a
year’s union this fickle persn deserted
him, leaving her child to hit care, and
soon afterward she died. ITqdtr the
circumstances the Colonel, though he
provided for the boy’s maintenance,
deemed it convenient to conceal his
marriage, and eventually he died sud
denly without having acknowledged it.
Apparently, however, his. conscience
hail tormented him so, that while lack
ing the moral a* speak the
truth during his lifetime, he had left
evidence by which it might be known
after his death. Unfortunately the
envelope containing his marriage certifi
cate had lain mixed up with some other
documents in a box which Lord Beauv
ray (who inherited the deceased’s pa
pers) had never thought of examining
tiH that morning, when he had begun
to sort his family paper* in viatv of his
marriage.
Suddenly the bill-discounter crumbled
all the papers in his hand with a fever
ish grasp, and looked at Istrd Beauv
ray. There wrb an expression in his
dull eyes as of a light behind an un
cleansed pane of glass. “I say,” he
whispered, “have you told anybody be
sides me of this secret?”
“ No; I came to you first, as iu duty
bound.”
“ Then wlyit us from de
stroying the papers? 1 shan’t say any
thing about it. That young Timburel
is a skunk and a snob; it will be ridicu
lous to see him a lord, and he’ll ruin
himself, or become mad with conceit—
so foolish is he. Isay, Beauvray, if I
throw this envelope into the fire, who
will know anything about it?”
“ I shall,” answered Lord Beauvray,
quietly, and he held out hia hand for
the papers.
The shifty glance of tke money man
quailed in the light of unquenchable
honesty in that of one who happened to
be a nobleman in something more than
the name.
There was a pretty hubbub in society
when it btcame known that the Earl of
Beauvray—or George de Vray, as he
now simply calked himself—was going to
abandon bis titles and.eststes to a man
who had been a city cMri.
Of course George de Vovy’s marriage
was postponed, l'he - ? urn in his for
tunes had thrown so much business on
his hands that it was impossible he
could devote a month to honeymooning
until it was disposed of; besides which,
he felt bound to make Mr. Moyle the
offer of releasing his datf|fiter from the
engagement. At first this proposal was
poobpoohed equally by the bill-dis
counter and Miss Moyle herself.
Millie, who was not quite so sensible as
she waa pretty, wept a good deal at not
becoming a Countess; then she wept at
the nobility of George’s action, which
everybody was praising.
Now there was staying in the house
of the Moyies a poor little cousin of
Millie’s, rained Gertrude Brown. She
was a soft-eyed brunette of eighteen,
very quiet and lovely, who acted as a
companion to Millie, and had to bear
much from the whimsical humors of this
sjioiled child. Gertie had always re
ceived marked kindness from Ixird
Beauvray, who treated her as if ahe had
been his sister; and she looked upon him
with admiration as CheHifjn, noble being
she had ever seen. His renunciation of
rank and wealth had struck her as an
act of surprising heroism, and she could
not so much as allude to it without tears
gushing from her eyes. A shrewd,
merry little thing, too, in her way, she
was capable of discerning the difference
that existed between a genuine man of
honor like Lord Beauvray and a mere
man of money like her Uncle Moyle.
It was this enthusiasm oi poor Gertie
Brown’s on poor George de Vray’s be
half that began to make the cup of Mr.
Moyle’s bitterness overflow. That
worthy gentleman had takn~to musing
that there was an end now to his
chances of sitting in Parliament, getting
a Baronetcy, and all that.
Poor Gertie held her tongue, although
her heart throbbed wofuily. Hhe had
heard that the new Lord Beauvray, the
ex-Mr. Timburel, had been invited to
dinner on a certain evening; and she
began to suspect that her precious uncle
was forming a plan for making of this
former clerk of his a suitor for Millie’s
hand.
Her intuition was not iti 6fult. Old
Moyle hastened to make peace with his
discharged clerk, whose vanity was
easily tickled. He became a regular
visitor at the biil-discounterk, taking
care never to come at times when he
was likely to meet George. His visits
displeased Gertie Brown, buthe easily
succeeded in winning the fav>r of the
discounter’s daughter who correspond
ingly lessened her liking forG&rge and
one day when she cast an tspersion
upon him, which Gertie couldnot help
resenting, she screamed, “If y>u are so
fond of Mr. do Vray, why don’t you get
him to marry you? That would be two
beggars together.”
* Naturally, Gertie went !o her room to
have a good cry, but from that day she
ceased speaking about George and be
came very circumspect in her demeanor
towards him. When he called to see
Millie, she left tho room. George soon
noticed these tactics, for his interviews
with Mr. Moyle's daughter were grow
ing more and more irksome by reason
of Millie’scoldness and irritability At
the least thing she would snap and
sulk; and one afternoon, when George
innocently made some inquiry about
Miss Brown, she fired up in a jealous
pet. “ You seem very anxious about
Miss Rrown. lam not obliged to ahow
her off in the druwing room whenever
visitors ixuno She is only a pauper
cousiu whom we have taken iu from
charity.”
“ It’s queer charity, dear, if you talk
of it in that way,” laugbed George.
“ 1 don’t consider proverty a disgrace,
either.”
“ No, but it’s very inconvenient,”
said Millie, still querulously, “and that
reminds me; if we marry, Isupjiose you
don’t mean to live on my monev. Papa
says his bauks might break, ami all sorts
of things. So i suppose you will do
something to get an independent in
come.”
“ Yes,’ answered George, coloring
deeply. “ I have applied for an ex
change into the line, ami think of going
out to the war on the Indian frontier.
I shall have a Lieutenant Colonel's
rank— bo, if you wait for me two years,
Millie, 1 will return with anew career,
and, perhaps, an income before me.”
“ Oh, wait two years to become a sol
dier’s wife,and go out to live in baking
Indian heat!” exclaimed Millie, pout
ing. “ I never bargained for that! ”
Just at that minute Gertie Brown
came in. She had a message to deliver
to Millie from Mr. Moyle, ami blushed
as she crossed the room where the pair
of quarrelling lovers sat.
“ Miss Brown,” said George rising lo
shake hands with her, “ I wish you
good-bye, for I have just been telling
Miss Moyle that lam going to the war
in India •"
“ You are going to the war! Ob, Mr.
de Vray—if anything should happen to
you! ” exclaimed Gertie, and the tears
started to her eyes.
“ Thank you for those tears,” said
George, gratefully, “I shall know that
one person here, at least, will feel in
terest. Now give me as a keepsake that
red/ book-marker you are holding in
your hand, I will bring back the ribbon
with something hanging to it."
“The Victoria Cross, perhaps,” tit
tered Millie, rather uncomfortably. “ I
declare that’s quite poetical. Well,
good-Ly : y U~ „.d Vusy; ,we part ■*
friends, don’t we?”
“Kxcellent friends,” answered George,
as he lifted both her hands to his lips,
aud kissed them playfully.
One year passed. There bad been a
triumph of the British arms in India,
and the name of Colonel de Vray was
associated with it. His name was in
everybody’s mouth. He had received
promotion and other honors, and was
returning to England after the termina
tion of the campaign as Major General
Sir George de Vray.
As for Millie Moyle, she was betrothed
to the Earl of Beauvray, and when Sir
George arrived in Ixrndon one of the
first tilings he read in the paper was
that the marriage between tins young
lady and his cousin was to take place in
a week.
He no longer cared now.' He went to
Mr. Moyle’s house on the very day ol
his return in the afternoon, and was
ushered into the dining-room, where
luncheon was taking place. He was re
ceived like a hero, for Mr. Moy’e liked
to be or. good terms with successful
men, and Millie was anxious to obtain
something like forgiveness for hei jilt
ing. She received it fully and freely,
so far hh could be judged from the
young General’s manner, for he was
frank and pleasant, but after the first
greetings were over he addressed him
self principally to poor little Gertie
Brown, who sat radiant and trembling.
At last, when a toast had been drunk
to George’s honor and Millie’s happi
ness—honest Mr. Moyle acting as toast
maker—the General drew a parcel from
his pocket and extracted from it Gertie’s
book-marker. There were hanging from
it the Cross of the Batb; a Victoria
cross and something else—a wedding
ring
“ Will you take nil three, Gertie?”
said George, approaching Millie's little
cousin.
“ Bravo, Sir George,” explained Mil
lie, clapping her hands, though she
turned a little pale, “ I always said that
Gertie and you were intended for each
other.”
“Ho did I,” said the worthy Mr.
Moyle; " But I say. hullo, what’s that?”
There had been a loud knock at the
door, and a footman entered with a tele
gram on a tray. Mr. Moyle opened the
missive, and uttered an exclamation
of horror and dismay. “ Great heavens,
my Ixird. read this! ’’ he faltered.
The telegram announced that the new
Ixird Beauvray had been killed in a
railway accident. Ho .be Indian hero
got his title and estate again.
Old Moyle had sunk in a chair, help
less. His face was a thing to see.
What is supposed to lie the largest
pumping engine in the world has re
cently been set up at the Union shaft on
the Comstock lode in Nevada. The
initial cylinder is 5 feet 5 inches in
diameter, witjjj .a stroke of fi feet 9
inches, and the other cylinder is 8 feet
4 inches in diameter, with a stroke of 8
feet 3 inches. The big cylinder weighs
43 tons and the small one 30 tons. The
fly-wheel is 371 feet in diameter and
weighs 110 tons, the hub weighing 15
tons and revolving on a shaft 2 feet 3
inches in diameter. The water flooding
the three mines, Hierra Nevada, Union
and Mexican, will be easily handled by
this huge machine.
A mah was asked the other day
how many children he had, and he re
plied, “Five boys, and each boy has
two sisters.”
j. L. DENNIS, Editor.
SI.OO a Year.
A Piece of Arkansas Romance.
[little Kook Ouzutte.]
Avery singular termination to a love
affair has just occurred near this city.
Borne time ago a young man, whom it
would no doubt be well to call James,
not because it is his real name, and
not because there is anything so striking
in this ancient cognomen, but because,
well because—fell in love, or thought
he did, with a young lady whom, for
about the same reasons as given above,
it would be well to call Busan. Practical
names, both of them. The fondness of
Jamei was returned. James told Busan
thgt he. loved her, and Busan told James
that she loved him. James asked Busan
to marry him, and Busan said that she
would. The young man had spent
sleepless nights in contemplating the
prize he was attempting to win. but
when he found that the pole of his at
tractions had kin eked the “ persimmon”
of Busan’s affections, he ceased tossing
the cover at night and slept soundly.
Finally he mused : “ I don’t love that,
girl. 1 wish that I had not acted so
rashly in engaging myself to her. It
would almost break her heart if I were
to tell her of my mistake. Bhe is so
affectionate. What a fool a man is!”
Busan did not pass all this lime without
musing: “ Women are so impulsive,”
she thought, lam engaged to that man
and I declare that I do not love him.
I would break the engagement but he
niiirht kill himself. I don’t know what
to do.” The parties continued to be af
fectionate toward one another, and the
same grave troubles affected alike the
mind of each. Beveral nights ago the
affectionate parties sat beside eacli
ther.
"Busan,” remarked James, “do you
think a man Bhould marry a woman*
when he doesn’t love her, merely t*
preerve his honor."
“ No. do you ?”
“I don’tYfeink YtouA tie ifnould. By
the way. Hue, 1 think that it would lie
better for us not to get married. I have
been mistaken; I don’t love you. I
hope that you will forgive me. Have
I wronged you?”
“Glorious man,” said the girl. “You
have lliteil a heavy weight from my
heart. Ido not love you, and the fear
of fatal results has ever kept me from
breaking our engagement.”
“ Is that so?” asked James, astonished.
“ I speak truthfully.
‘.‘Well, 1 will be ilog-goned. 1 thought
that you cared for me. I’ll be blis
tered if iliis affair hasn’t got away with
me. Hay, Sue?”
“ Yes.”
“ Now, lot’s look at this business a lit
tle closer. We are both very frank.
I think that frank jieople make the beat
husbands anil wives. We understand
each other first rate. Tell me, don’t
you*—that la, don’t you entertain some
thing of an affection for me?” .
“ Y—yes. Don’t you for me ?”
“ Yes. Suppose, as we understand
each other so well, that we get married.”
“AH right,” and the ceremony was
performed in a country church last
Sunday.
Cruelty to Women.
I Pi ovi<lnc* Journal.]
The conservative Ixmdon 1/meet has
taken up one phase of the modern civ- 1
ilization, in a protest against that
“ cruelty to women " which is exercised
in the large retail establishments, espec
ially in London. Young women who
come up from the country in robust
health are rapidly consigned to a life
of continuous suffering in consequence
of the role which obliges them to stand
upon their feet, whether occupied with
customers or not. The hvnott has de
layed comment until compelled to do so
because of the importance of the case.
In this country we are witnessing the
employment more and more yearly, of
women in the store and at the desk.
Like causes produce like effects. The
reply of the merchant is simply that
constant attention is necessary to the
success of business. The discipline in
some of the hou-es is termed “ fatuous”
by the Jjancet, but there are two ques
tions involved r First, is the require
ment of the trader, upon purely busi
ness principles, unjust? and, secondly,
is it possible for women to meet tiie
proper demands of the retail employer?
Tnis is only one, but it is • very im|ior
tant aspect of the woman question.
There is a seme in which there is and
should be no friendship nor feeling in
trade. Of the correctness of the diag
nosis of the Lancet there can be no
question. Would the right to sit in the
store interfere with the proper discharge
of duty? Ho far there has been little
attention paid to this subject here, yet
in some of our larger cities it has at
tracted attention. Are our girls taking
a mistaken view of their capacity and
their interests?
Don’t Write I’oetry to Order.
A young lady, in the Heading, i’a ,
High Hchool, wrote to Oliver Wendell
Homes for a poetical contribution to the
school literary association, and received
the following answer:
“ My dear young lady: If you knew
how many fetters I have to write every
day, you would say: ‘ Poor, dear man,
how tired he must be! ’ We that make
rhymes are expected to turn them on as
yon torn on water through a faucet
whenever it is wanted. But writing
poetry is like shooting ducks or geese—
you may load up and paddle off, and
watch all the morning, aDd never see
duck or goose except yourself as re
flected in the water. Ho, my dear young
lady, I will only say that I should like
very much to phase you and a great
many other young friends—and old
ones—by writing afi sorts of odes, ele
gies, epies, epigrams, etc., but I have
to content myself by disappointing you
and them with a little scrap of a note
like this, sweetened with good-will and
good wishes, and nothing else in the
world to pay for postage stamps wasted
on me.”
A new mining country, said to far
surpass the Black Hills, is opening up
way north of the Hills on the late Ute
territory. Now young man, a Chance
fora fortune opens to you. Strike while
the iron is hot and leave your room
here for the sluggards who are willing
to keep your places,— Yonkern (fautte.
THOUGHTS FOR SUNDAY.
Pure and sincere affection ia beyond
smothering by the showers of misfor
tune. On the contrary it ia strengthened
and invigorated, a* are the flower* by
the rain.
Excesbi v u prudence becomes impru
dence; therefore let your conduct of
action be so just and charitable a* to be
guarded atall point* from theattackaof
petty jealousies or envy.
No power excel* that of character.
Upon ft we look as the fountain from
which flows respect, influence, success
and all the other attributes of happiness
and satisfaction. — Mu’len.
In educating youth it is needful that
they should be tutored in all that con
tributes to preparing them for the toils
and strifes that manhood must pass
through ere old age is reached.
A person’s veracity portrays pre
cisely the extent to which hb possesses
most other virtues; therefore weigh well
your words before uttering thpm that a
proper estimate will be placed upon
you for reliability and character.
15k firm in the control of yourself.
For if you can conquer yourself and be
Hble to say no, emphatically,at the right
time, to every appetite of your nature,
you have then accomplished a great
victory.
Thk saddest, the most pathetic utter
ances, are the utterances of men who
when the farthest and subtlest reach of
thought grasp only negatives. A man
can no more live on negatives than he
can live on tones; a negative creed is
the creed of death.— Prof. Browne.
" Twiit i-MUtiWs !<ighter nd an** teira
Mo* Manhood’* .utmutsr ot aweat and pain,
Tho dawn of youth and tho night ot yean
Aro daft by the alrngglea ot heart and liraln.
Op all attainments none are uoblet
than fame itself. It can only be gained
by following the strict law of duty.
Tho exercise of charity, and close ap
plication to all that elevates and en
nobles, bin once attained, it lives for all
time while the body has sunk into dust.
How seldom is a true friend found;
one that remains firm regardless of the
opinions of others as to his action. For
there are cases where the poison of the
slanderer’s tongue temisirnrily as
sumes huge proirortions, and but for the
few true and trifd friends would
seriously damage one’s standing.
In our every-day life we meet with
thosa so careless in words and action, so
indifferent to tho feelings and rights and
privileges of others, that we shudder as
we look upon or listen to them. Avoid
them for they can no more change their
course than can the leopard change his
spots.
Be not unmindful of the respect de
manded by the dignity of old age. for
“The hoary howl in a crown of glory.”
There is no friendship more beueffeial
than that existing between age and
youth. The former needs to be tolerated
with youthful impetuosity and enthusi
asm, while the latter must be equally as
patient with the infirmities of ripe old
age.— Mullen.
The “I told you ho’b” constitute quite
a numerous class in every community.
Wits what a lofty air of profound
wisdom they shrug the shoulder or nod
the head, ami with what a knowing
wink they endeavor to impress you with
the idea that they knew precisely what
was coming, no matte* what has hap
jiened. But what a ludicrous spectacle
they present when their pantomimic
actions are set at naught by a substan
tial and emphatic refutation of what
ever report or charge may have beer
the source of their exhibition of supe
rior knowledge or information; ’tisthen
that they appear iu their true light.'—
Mullen. __
The Gardner Gun.
fTioy Wmen.J
A gun which can tire 5,000 B h o {A | D
thirteen minutes was recently jested in
Washington. The Gardner is a ,'nachlae
gun, like the Gatling. It has( WU p Ar .
rels made of steel, encased '. u brass.
This is an auxiliary to small ar mg aD j
is simply a gun which, by the iiWmiity
of the designer, is calculated tc,i 0 t,(, e
work of a number of musket*, nn ,i ,j 0
it more rapidly and effectively, ft can
not, probably, shoot as accuracy a
musket, but if properly handlt,] mUK t
be fearfully destructive, espiciallv
when directed against a line or an ad
vancing column. Its caliber is 45-100
of an inch, and the same cartridges are
used as in ordinary rifle practice. The
charge is seventy grains of powder,
and the ball weighs 400 grains. It is
mounted on a small field carriage, and
.light enough to be carried by two
men. The whole length of the gun is
only four feef. It can be fired five hun
dred times in a minute, its capacity in
this direction being only limited by the
rapidity by which it can tie fed. If
steam could apply the motive power,
and it could be fed fast enough there
is no telliug how rapidly it could be
fired. The firing is none by turning a
crank in the rear of the gun, and it is
fed through a flat-shaped box, into
which the cartridges aro p.aced in
blocks holding twenty each. They fit
down neatly into this box, which holds
about fifty cartridges, and as fast as the
crank is turned they drop down intoa
channel and are carried forward for
discharge and the emptv cartridges
turne>' Quid dropped beneath. Five*
tlioukaud wcro fired in thirteen miniitea,
three men relieving each other at the
crank.
Mu u n Laughing Animal.
Man is said to be the only animal that
can cry, and yet he is not really a cry
ing creature. He is a laughing and
smiling creature. The hours which
bring bars do not come very often.
Home firesides see ten or twenty years in
which no one had cause for weeping.
Many, many hundreds, many thousands
meet with no sorrow for a quarter of a
century. Count them over and the days
on which man cries are few compared
with all the days of his life. Man is an
animal that can cry, but not a creature
that often has reason for such unntppi
ness, but he is most perfectly a creature
that laughs. Not many days pass that
bring no pleasant smile to tne majority.
There i; a column of laughter in each
newspaper. The light dramas of a pure
and ingenious quality draw large aus
diences, while painful tragedy is les
popular, liecause men and women, the
humblest and the highest, would rather
laugh than cry. It ought to bli an a
proiri Argument in favor of fee’s in
trinsic sweetness and worth that man
comes up into it with his face beaming
with smiies, and this smile widens oat
as years pass and the dear old father
laughs and plays with the little chil
dren, and one merriment like one elec
tricity thrills the heart of infant and of
patriarchy _
A little boy who accompanied his
father to the theater to see the play
called “Drink,” asked his parent if it was
thus called because so many young men
went out between the acts. — Norrittovm
Herahl.
Dkink (L’Assommoir) is being per
formed in the Dutch language at an
Amsterdam theater.