Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.