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DRAMATIC NOTES. When Bernhardt leaves Paris, women of decided embonpoint are to be fashion aide there. Jhua Rive Kino is to have a first-class concert company out on a tour through the next amusement season. Christine Nilsson, in her correspond ence with a personal friend, states that she will not come to America during the season. Performances of Tristan und Isolde and Die Mristefsinger of Nuremberg rank among the coming events at the ltoyal Vienna Opera-house. Joseph Jefferson, actor, artist and agriculturist, during his vacation among the Vermont pastures ’■ is selected a flue herd of short-horn eaten for his Louisiana farm. An uncontradicted rumor has it that Alice Oates Watkins is to forsake comio opera next season, and be the bright, particular star of melange called Long Branch. The death of the ouee-fnnnms tenor Ivanoff, the eontemparary of Rubini, is announced. His career on the lyric stage was brief, but very successful, both iu Italy and England. Mr. Charles Cogiilan has com menced a country tour of England with a version by himself of flic play of La Mortc Vi rite, iu which Signor Salvini has occasionally appeared. Madame Patti will npjiear noxt winter in Paris at the theatre des Nations. Messrs. Polloui and Franehi will lie tho impressariiof the Italian season. It is said that Semiramide and Mifistgfrlr will bo mounted especially for Madame Patti. Mu. Lons Maas, who lias been en gaged by Mr. Theodore Thomas as solo pianist for a tour of the United States, resigns his position as Professor in the King's Conservatory, Loipsig, on the Ist of October. Mr. Maas is an English man. Mary Anperson was born in Sacra mento, California, during July, 1859. Her father’s brother, a resident of Louisiana, vouches for the truth of it; so does her mother. The latter ought to know, and tho other says ho does. Yet paragraphers hint and doubt. The dramatic and musical obituary for the year 1880, thus far, includes the names of Mrs. Mary Chapman, Felicita Yestvali, Henry Wioniawski, George Honey, J. 13. Onmhundro, J. R. Planelie, John Brougham, T. L. Donnelly, E. H. Majilton, Ole Bull, Tom Taylor, and Adelaide Neilsou. The first man who ever sang a negro song which made a was George Washington Dixon. The song was called “The Coal Black Rose.” This was in 1828, at New' York. After making thou sands of dollars and a great reputation, he died in the Charity Hospital at New Orleans, in 1861. Among printers who became eminent in the dramatic profession, arc the names of George Jordan, James E. Murdock, George Clark (whose real name is O’Neill), Miron W. Lcfiingwell, Wm. E. Burton, Tom Placide, Sol. Smith, “Ai'temus Ward" (whose real name was Charles Brown), and Augustin Daly, the manager. Thu theatrical season this fall and win ter promises to be unusually attractive. Three brilliant luminaries, at least, from the other side of the water will shine resplendent upon the American stage— Halvini, Bernhardt and Gerster. It is possible that Nilsson also may come, but this is not yet definitely settled Owing to the remarkable success of the operatic and variety combination!, lust season ihe musical feature will predominate, and the prospects of fine Italian opera, under the able management of Maple -on and the Htrakosches, seems to be unusually bright. Mr. Sothern, in all lmmar. probabil ity, will nevei play again. He has been a broken-down man for the pasr.twu years. He is not an old man in years, but he is lamentably old in reality. “It is the pace that kills," and the comedian has always pushed himself from “ eend to eend, as the late Mr. Hiupei was reported to have said. With him will die Lord Dun drearg, aud also a certain style of easy, nonchalant acting grotesque, quaint, and effective as it was original The wink of Sothern was equal tc a volume of Joe Milter. It was sly, knowing, confiden tial. Each man in ’-he audience took it to himself and became at once am intimate friend of the actor. Of his private char acter there is nothing to be said; chat is his own care. It is as an actor alone that the world at laige has a right to look upon him--a fictitious being who won it to laughter by discovering anew and be fore unheard-of ticklish spot. He who creates innocent laughter is a public benefactor, and to my mind more worthy of a sculptured monument than ho who under tho impudent disguise of a mili tary uniform shoots down his fellow-men and complacently looks around for ap plause.—Louisville Courier-Journal. How to Hoil ami Stew. To do either properly the food must he immersed at the beginning in actu ally boiling water, and the water must be allowed to reach the boiling point again immediately, and to boil for live minutes. The action of the boiling water upon the surface of either meat or veget ables is to harden it slightly, but enough to prevent the escape of cither juice or mineral salts. After the pot containing the food has begun to boil the second time, it should be removed to the side of the fire and allowed to simmer until it is done. This simmering or stewing ex tracts all the nutritious qualities of either meat or vegetables. The pot should be kept closely covered unless for a moment when it is necessary to removo the scum. The steam will condense upon the inside of the cover, and fall back into the pot in drops of moisture, if the boiling is slow. Do not think that rapid boiling cooks faster tliap the gentle process I recommend. After the pot once i toils you cannot make its con tents cook any faster if you have fire enough under it to run a steam engine. Remember if you boil meat hard and fast it will lte tough and tasteless, and most of its goodness will go up thechim nev or out of the window with the steam. How a Water Moccasin Fishes. A correspondent, writing from Plano, Texas describes as follows the manner ; n which a moccasin used his body as a „ort of sieve in catching small fish. Pis snakeship was in a shallow jkjol abound ing in minnows, and was briskly twist ing and turning in all directions, giving his body as many convolutions as possi ble to inclose the fish or force them into narrow spaces between him and the hank. In either case the fish would en deavor to escape by 1 calling over the snake's body into the water beyond. Meantime the moccasin, with elevated head, caught the fish in his mouth as they passed through,the air.—A lcieMifio American. “It pays in the end,” said the small boy when he stepped on a wasp, Hamilton Journal. LAMAR & DENNIS, Publishers. VOL. VIIL-NO. 42. A M Till I*ll MBOUI.It. BY IIATTir. F. CREBRY, Wlmionn bomoro reviving, On o miltry August tiny, Th: n ii quiet littlo *hoMer, And tho Mcont of new-mown hay? Dow the laborer'* *ptrit* brighten, Ami he whets hln iovthe anew, Tolling with ren'-iatea vigor, When tho blamed showor Is through. Forth goes the whistling boy To turn the dripping swath; No jeu’ of further ehowern— Th* Bind i from the north. The water stand* in pool* Along the muddy street. The seiioolboj wodoa it through, With bare and tawny feet. The trout are clearly seen In the limpid meadow brook, Anl the cunning angler's bait Uioin to hi* hook. The flower* look up and smile, And the field* of waving grain Look fitter for the barveat After the glorious rain. The birds trill little snatches From their song* of early June; Tho lee* swarm round the clover, Buzzing a drowsy tune. But the crickets, those foretellers Of the *iiminer’s coming doom, Set up their doleful music In a corner of the room. One listen* just a moment, And feel* a twinge of pain, Then dispels hi* saddened feelings, Thinking of the summer rain. ONE TEAR OF A GIRL’S LIFE. “Let’s leave this room just as it is, mamma. See, isn’t it quaint? Jean nie, do look at this head of Beatriee and jhe frame—how elegant! This certainly must have been some girl’s room.” Ethel Adams went prying curiously about the room as she spoke. It was a most unique and strange apartment, which seemed to have been hidden away from view for years, perhaps. Many things had been removed, but the win dow-hangings were still left—a massive walnut chair, a stool of embossed velvet, and many trinkets that make a room cozy and homelike as well as elegant. At one side was a mantel of stained mar ble, and above this hung that wonder ful picture of which Ethel had spoken. The sad, mournful oyes seemed to plead for the absent owner of that room and to beg for the old silence and oblivion. “ Jeannie, I forgot to show you what I found, yesterday night, in this room, in the bottom of that bronze vase. I happened to tip the vase over, and this fell out. Edwin Dale was here at the time. See, it is set in garnets; isn’t it a lovely face ? I can’t make out the en graving, only the last name, ‘ Kent,’ and two letters, ‘ s-e.’ ” “A proud face, truly, and not one of a peasant's daughter,” said Mrs. Adams, who was assisting the gilds in deciding which rooms should be furnished for the summer. The three bent their heads together scrutinizing the small, olive face in its setting of gems. “Kent, Kent, did you say, my dear? It seems I remember something about that name. We’ll ask your father about it to-night.” “Oh, girls, is mamma up there?” called a voice from the foot of the stairs. “ Yes ; come and seo what I found.” “I want you all out on the west ve randa. I’ve something to show you. Bring along your discovery, and we’ll set up a curiosity shop,” replied the voice below’. The group settled themselves in rus tic chairs or reclined in swinging ham mocks. The venerable and dignified Horatio Adams came down from his dusty office and joined the family, push ing his golden spectacles to the top of his forehead, and passing his fingers through the obstinate-curling white hair. “ Just see, papa and Owen, what I found !” And all the group bent to gether over the face that looked out at them so saucily, so defiantly, as though half angry at being inspected. “ ‘ Kent’ is engraved on the back, and two other letters—part of a name, I think—‘es.’ See, there it is.” “ I declare,” said Horatio, drawing his chair closer to the rest of the party. “ Can it be possible ? Why, w ife, you re member the Kents, don’t you ? This old mansion has been known as Castle Kent for a century, at least. It still belongs to some unknown heir—a Miss —, Miss—, let me sec,” running his fingers through and through iiis hair, grasping handfuls, as though the half-forgotten knowledge might be lurking among the thick clusters. “ Miss Agnes Louise Kent—that’s the name—only heir of Sir Gregory and Isabella Kent. I read an account of it not half a dozen days ago. The property amounts to something near three millions oi money. A valuable estate, indeed—a moneyed estate, finite a fortune—aye, in fact, a princely fort une.” Owen Adams gave a long, incredulous, though appreciative, whistle, at which the twogirls exchanged knowing glances. “What have you there, Owen?” ques tioned Ethel, the inquisitive. “I hardly know myself. It’s strange I should have forgotten it for so long,” replied Owen Adams, the polished and elegant, fresh from the society of the elite of Paris and the continent. A pure ly English face, with its added charm of true refinement. He unlocked an ebony writing-desk, and took from it a small, handsomely-bound book. It was slight ly discolored os though at some time it liad been wet in some way. The back was of ivory, inlaid with pansies of mother-of-pearl. The lids were clasped with a single flower, mounted in gold. The whole was charmingly unique and beautiful. They all examined it closely while Owen told its history. Passing through a street in Paris in fected with an epidemic, he espied this book lying under the projecting slab of a stone step. He picked it up, but, not daring to enter the house or even to knock, he hastily slipped it into his pocket, thinking he’d advertise it the next morning. On reaching his hotel, he found the telegram calling him home and, as the time was short, he threw this into his writing-desk and had never once remembered it until tliis after noon. “ I think it must have fallen from a window, or else been dropped, in carry ing out other goods ; for, see, a part of this spray has been broken,” said Owen. £thel, "no longer able to restrain her curiosity, took the book into her hands and unebuqx’d it. “ It’s a girl’s diary, as sure as I live !” she exclaimed, throwing up her hand, and pointing tho front finger at the others—a fashion she had when deeply interested or excited—all the while run ning her eyes rapidly over the page. “Read it alou, Eth,” spoke Jean, raising herself from her lazy position in the hammock. It took a great deal to excite her, for she was of that sluggish, luxurious temperament that little heeded mere passing excitements. “Just listen,” and Edith reads from the hook : Knoi.and, Tiiuhsdav, Oct. fi. IS—.—As this is my last year at school, I shall keep a diary of aav important events that may happen to mo. I don't know what to sav, as nothing lias happened lines my last visit (o Loudon. I don't believe I shall like Ilka new bnsinoas very much. But. aa Couain Kob says, “The prac ticed man maketh the perfect man." 1 wiah 1 were a man ; no, I don’t either, for men are pen* rally mean, and selfish, and cruel. I only know two moil I really like—one is Cousin Bob, and the other I’rof. Huntington. I deapise the rest “ He, Monsieur Owen I ” interrupted Jean. If folka should lead tlna hook of mine they’d think it funnv 1 didn't include that individual calling himself pater famiiiaa iu my liat of ad mired masculines, but I chuia him with all tho abominable lot—and why? Louiae Kent know eth why. “ Heavens ! Eth, is that name there, or are you fooling us ?” asked Owen, coming up, and looking excitedly over her shoulder. All the group gathered round the girl to satisfy themselvos that the reader had not played a joke on them. But Ethel’s face told plainly that the revelation was as shocking to herself as to the others. Her excitable nature displayed itself in the short, tremulous breath and flushed cheek, as she pronounced tho name, “Louise Kent.” “ Marvelous coincidence,” ejaculated the family sire. “I fear it is some omen of evil,” responded the slightly superstitious wife, who had learned from her Scottish g randoms the fostered stories of witch and fairy. “I remembor now,” continued Ho ratio Adams, “hearing once that there was some mysterv in the family. Sir Gregory was killed almost instantly while on some wild expedition. He kept blooded horses and raced a great deal, I think,” ‘ Read on, Ethel,” spoke up the in terested Jean; “ see if she’s the girl.” Ethel reads : I guess 1 11 tear this leaf out anil begin again, for mother might find it and then slic'd cry, poor darling, and I’d feel awful. Mother is such a lady. Why did she marry that fox t I’m in a dark mood to-night, so I’ll hide you away, little diary, and wait until some blighter day. Sunday, Nov. G.—lt is another dark, damp dav. I liate gloomy days. Thiß old house, wnn its lorestof trees everywhere, making such mournful sounds, seems ’kike a prison. I’m sorry I wounded l’rof. Hiintington’s feelings to-day. I’m always stuinhlli'ig into somebody’s tender feelingH. I guess I am s serious mis take, as he whom I so hate has so often told mo. I eau see his steely eyes before me continua'ly. Sometimes I wish he would never come home again. I w ish to goodness I could bo like other girls or like my mother. I don't want to be a lamb, nor n bird, but I do hate to be a porcupine, so full of hatefulness I don’t dare to lie touched. I believe I’ll write me out some resolutions aud try to live to them : Whereas, I, Louise Kent, or, rather, Agnes Louise Kent— “ The same girl, as I live I ” ex claimed Owen. “The very same; heir, sole heir, to $3,000,000 of money, a most magnificent estate,” chimed in the father. “I wonder if she’s alive yet,” said Jean. “I feel awfully guilty at reading this book. It just seems I’m doing some mean, sneaking thing. Here, you read awhile, Owen,” said the conscientious Ethel, laying the hook on her brother’s arm, and throwing herself hack, ns if half exhausted. . “We hail best find out, if possible, if this is the true heir. Such an estate, so valuable and so extensive, ought not to get into anyone’s hands on a mere pre tense,” remarked Horatio. Owen reads : Whereas, I, Limine Kent, or, rather, Agnes Louise Kent, am given to always doing thono tilings I do most earnestly desire not to do, and ever leaving undone those things I desire most to do, and as I wish to correct—” “ Here a blank has been left for two or three pages,” said Owen, turning tho leaves to another date. Scsnxv, Jan. B.—How tho time has flown since 1 last, wrote ! All, mo ! it scorns like ton years. Something dreadful has happened in our family. It makes my Good run cold to t hink of it. now. But I believe I have no human heart when I think of him. How he has cursed us all. But when they carried him in. all mangled and bleeding, with his wild eyes star ing at us with such a glassy stare, I did pity him. Yes, 1 almost forgave him. And to see mother, poor, dear, broken-hearted mother, af ter all he has done for her ; after nil the deso lation he brought to her, to see her take his face in her hands and bend over him, whisper ing “my husband ' as tenderly as though that same face, with its leers and tounts, had not crushed -all the glad, joyous life out of her. Oh, it was all so dreadful! I wonder if Ood forgave him at the last. I'm glad I’m not Ood to judge men. I couldn’t cry; even when I stood and looked into that cold, still face I Could only say to mvself that those close, white lips were never again to utter words that would sting me almost to madness. I could not shod a tear, even when 1 saw them bury him away forever. I felt only a deep sense of freedom. But my poor, dear mother ; I must support her tenderly with all the strength I possess. Fkiday, I'eh. 5. I have given up my sehool and shall do all I can for mother, she is droop, ing and failing every day. I must do some thing to brighten her life. She is my all! How X love her! All the love and devotion I might have given two are centered in my mother. I am changing. I can see jt m myself. The careless, defiant Louise Kent is now a sober, al most a somber, woman. How circumstances change us. To-day I was 20. Twenty: 1 can not realize it. Just one year qgo to-night brother Mark and I rowed up the lake to see the old town by moonlight. How distinctly I remember the lonesome screech of the owl, and how cold and spectral he looked, outlined against the sky. As we dipped our oars silent ly along under a willow, a nightingale, startled by our gliding boat, sang out a long, wild, wail ing song, as if his heart were breaking. I re member Mark sat so quietly as we came along, and I noticed as the moonlight fell across his face there was on it an unspeakable look of pain and sadness. As he lifted me from the boat, he bent so tenderly a rid kissed my hand, saving : “ Your birthday kiss, Iyjuie ; recall this boat-ride, and the owl, the tower and the night ingale when this day returns again. I shall be far away, hut I shall remember you.” Ob, my darling brother 1 come back to vonr lone some sister. Little did you dream that a* far as earth is from heaven would you be separates] from me tee-night. Here Owen coughed and curled his mustache; Jean had turned her face away; impulsive Ethel was sobbing, with her hands and i&ce buried in her “DUM SPIRO, SPERO.” HAMILTON, GA , OCTOBER 14, 1880. mother’s lap ; Mrs. Adiuns sighed sym pathetically, and toyed caressingly with Ethel’s lirown curls: Horatio Adams leaned buck in his chair, rubbing the eyes of his glasses most vigorously. After a moment of silence, in which no one spoke because the feeling was mutual. Owen read on : Tho noble boy! Why was it all his bright dreams and ours must lie broken in one short year ? Why must lie lie like & ■battered shaft lhat was so beautiful, so fair, so shining? With his proud intellect that had Hashed out before the world like a spotless saber. Some times when I think of the dear boy’s death, and of all his hard fato and mine, I grow hitter against God, and man, and nature, and every thing. In my insanity I clench my hands and shake them in the very face of heaven Can I be forgiven ? Crave 1 forgiveness ? Thl'Bsdav, April I.—Mother grows frailer. Sometimes 1 pray that sin- may ho mine yet a little longer. She clings to mo so tenaciously, depending on mo in all things. The estate is settled. Everything is mother's and mine— even this prison-house. Cousin ltob writes mo that our a|>ailineiits in Paris are awaiting ns. I think l shall have mother removed before the worm day* come on. J do not know whether I shall like Cousin ltoli’a now wife or not. Home wav tho Spanish women were always repulsive to me, bnt 1 have decided to receive hor as gracefully as possible. Is it miserably selfish in mo to wisli that Cousin ltob had never mar ried ? Tuesday, June 11. -We arc in Paris. I think mother has improved. Whom should I meet to-day Imt dear Prof. Huntington? I eanio near making myself foolish, bnt it was so liko meeting something infinitely dear to one. He is so silent, so sober, so gentle, so gallant. His faeo seomß to tell mo of some history. I wonder what it is. I wonder if he has carried some secret in his heart until it has turned to stone, like mine? He is tho same lone man. Wednesday, July 3.—Last night mother slept but little. 1 feci she is slowly slipping from me. She has been telling mo to-day of tho happy days of her girlhood when her proud old father, Lord Autly “Autly, did you say, my son?” asked Horatio Adams, starting from his seat like one half wild. All the group invol untarily started to their feet. “Lord Autly,” repeated Owen. “That was my grandfather’s name. Autly, Autly—yes, that’s it, my mother’s father. Ho had seven sons, one married a peasant’s daughter and grandfather disinherited him. But I have heard that he was a shrewd fellow and boeamo rich, enormously rich, in fact he owned a manor. Ho must be the one. Read on, my son, read on.” Owen continues : How hor father, Lord Antiy, taught her to ride to tho cliase, anil ploy at lmea-gammsu, his favorite game. Then she told me of her betrothal to voting Hir Gregory Kent, tho dash iug English heir, and of her great love for the poor peasant, Lea Me. Hunt, for which my father never forgßve her, neither did he fail to recall it though she lias been to Mm ail these years a loyal, tender, forbearing wifo, never even al lowing this old love a place m her memory. Hhe told it to me to-day for the first time. Then she sank hack on her pillow and closed her eyes, lying there so pale and silent I put my hand on her heart to soe if it was throbbing. 1 firmly believe these years of silence, of wait ing, of enduring, of persistently burying tho past, have almost tahfJt the jpirit out of its frail vessel of chvv. Pvnf. HnjifSgton came to see ns to-day. As he left, lie mJad me to drive out with him again to-morrow. IT mother is strong enough to be left alone, I may go for a abort time. I feel I must bo near her every moment. Monday, Aug. s.— Last night we sat. together, two friends. Kind and tender the ties that bind us. But how widely different our lives ! Ilia 1 knew hut briefly. It was a lonely, lost life. A bitterness and a pain had entered it, a depth of sadness fathomed hv no human creat ure. Yet, above it all, ho Hinilos and puts book the hatefulness of many and soothos thoHO about him with the winsome winning of his spirit. Why can I not love this man who has told me so passionately of liis long, patient waiting for my love? ifo fulfills my highest ideals of manliness anil manhood. Why is thero no answering note to this pleading cry ? Has my heart become granite that it is so icy still; so shut away and barred from human love? We aat alone—all alone as the darknoss of the night settled down over Paris. It was that time of oppressive silence after one has been asked a question one dares not answer with loyalty to truth. The muteness seeming fittest, we sat in silence. Down in tho busy street below us we watched together the pass ing panorama. Homo hoys played hide-and seek among tho trees and boxes: two lovers {mssed slowly by ; an old man bent under his mrden of years plodded home from his hard day s work with to-morrow’s bread ; two Ml iter, thoughtful business men met, stopped, settled some point in daily work, wrung each other’s hands and passed on, each to his own way ; a carriage drove slowly up just across the way, and a short, white coffin was brought out and stowed away as though it already contained the spectral form of some mother’s dead baby ; a wood sawyer with his wife and dirty children came out of an alley and stole noiselessly down a narrow street,. Some guards in uniform came tramping down the street with measured tread at the shouts of their Captain. On, on, they all swept, the multitude, the unthinking throng, each with his own burden, his own seeret inner seif a mystery still. We had noted all uncon sciously almost. His eyes met mine. We were asking of each other the same question. Ho arose quickly, saying, “It grows late, I will see yon to-morrow,” and was gone. Hatcrdav, Hept. 12. 1 must write hut a word. My dear mother lias teen attacked by an epidemic fever. I greatly fear for her. I must be strong to meet anything. Prof. Huntington is untiring in ins attentions. Tuesday, Oct. 0. Mother is still very low. My head reels. My pulses throb so violently, fam almost beside myself. II is only because of the constant watching and tare. I’ll he bet ter to-morrow. It is one year to-night since I wrote first iri this little noi*'Oh life ! Prof. Huntington has been smitten with the fever. I cannot write more to-night. What next shall I write, I wonder, and when, 'and where ’?’’ Owen Adams tossed the liook into liis mother’s lap, and passed his hand over lus eyes, for the strain of steady reading made them painful. “Elegant!” Jean remarked, less lan guidly than was her usual wont. “ That’s as good as a novel, Eth. Let’s have it published.” “Jean Adams, how could you!” re proachfully answered Ethel. “ Husband, I think you’d best adver tise this liook. had you not ? ” “ Yes, yes,” answered Horatio Adams, rising and pacing back and forth with his hands behind him, “ Yes, I’ll attend to that to-morrow. Too valuable an estate to lie lost to its owner. If the girl is dead, as may be possible, then I think the Sutleys fall joint heirs. Yes, yes,” half soliloquizingly. “What’s the last date? Oct. 6? Why, let me see, tliat’s something over three months.” “ Owen, we must see to this matter to morrow.” Owen gives another prolonged whistle, and asks Jean for the picture set in gar nets. Supper is announced. Louise Kent is discussed. The l>ook is adver tised, and all wait patiently, or impa tiently, as the case may lie, for some re sponse. And so, dear reader, must we. - Sothebn has recently isuccessfully un dergone two painful operations at the hands of surgeons in London, and at latest accounts was improving it. health. WAIFS AND WHIMS. Something to lie sneezed at snuff. A cruel husband calls his wifo “groan fruit,” lioi’iuiho sho never agrees with him. Few men are so awkward with tools that they cannot work a corkscrew unite handily. It is hotter to give than to receive. This relates especially to ailvieo and medicine. They say Chicago girls never thul it hard to elojxg They make rone ladders of their shoe-strings. There arc some men so talkative that nothing lmt, the toothache can make one of them hold his jaw. Minnie Banks, of St. Paul, kissed her lover fil l times without stopping. Min nesota liked it, anyhow. “Strive to make n good impression wherever you go,” said Jones, as 1m pulled his foot out of the mud. When a man anil a woman are made one, the question “which one?” is a Bothersome one until it is settled, ns it soon is. It is about, ns difficult to convince a burglar that the owner of the house is afraid of him, as to convince the house holder that tho burglar is afraid of him. Tiif, angel of midnight—the woman who opens tho street doer for her hus band when he is trving to unlock tho bell-knob, and then lets him sleep on tho hall-floor. When a Michigan minister is iilsmt to elope with the wife of a parishioner ho preaches a farewell sermon and exalts tho duty of putienco and long suffering. This sort of pours oil ou tho troubled waters iu advance. Tirmin is to be a club of circus men. There will he no chairs in the club, noth ing but trapezes. When they dine every- Kidy will stand on his head. There will l>o no stairways. The members will get. into the club bv climbing tho waterspout and coming down through the chimneys. A itui.ioiotm tract, called “Put Not Your Trust in Princes,” was thrown into the saloon of a simple old Ger man. Ho read the title, and solilo quized: “Veil, l don'd put some drust in Brinees. Hey must pay der cash in dis shop elitist der same as a vito mans.” It is a great mistake in mothers to take so much pains teaching their children to speak. What a world of trouble it takes to make some babies talk, and what a world of trouble they make with their everlasting talking after having onco learned how to do it. Bouton Trans cript. He softly kiwi his RWiiina wife, Then with a liugfertuK I*‘K Of found nflprtioii MriiiKhtwny went And kissed her pretty cook. Alas for hAin, the nenlle wife lie ihoiWht nshep, was not, And for hi j cook nod hobby, 100, bUi mww It tuighiy hot. > Seymour Time*. An up-towu landlord writes his own hill of fare, thereby saving the cost of printing. It announces: "Guffey, supo, rente befe, fridc ham in, lioylcd and bakt pertaters, fridc could pudden, minspyes, mutting chops, voole culverts, hunch mid crucified chickens.”— Kingston Freeman. “Good MonNiNO,” remarked two gen tlemen as they stepped up to the bar. "Moruin’, geutlemeu, what’ll it he?” asked the bnr-kccpor. “Well, Pll take a Hail-cocktail,” said tine. “Give me a ci-Gar-fteld,” sakl the other, and then they both laughed anil said it was a very good joke.— Alban// Journal. That it pays to look under the lied be fore you retire, if you are a woman, re ceived fresh evidence in Watertown re cently. A young lady there took a peep mid was rewarded with a view of a man’s hoots. She immediately called her father, who promptly responded with a gun and club, and catching hold of the rascal’s feet, brought his own hoots to light. His daughter had worn them on sherry expedition and had thrown them there on getting home. Danbury News. A Hbnvbb girl lost her foot, and her gallant lover bad a poeketbook made of a piece of tanned skin from the ampu tated member. The Syracuse Standard says: “If she had been a Utica girl she might have hail a trunk covered- Baeh elor Exchange. It seems to us that a poeketbook made out of the skin of a girl’s foot, is out of place. Why didn’t tho young man have an icc hex or a re frigerator car made of it? There is too much building material actually thrown away. Peek’s Sun. At Petersburg, Illinois, the otherday, a man named Win. L Stein loaded his gun and set out to kills neighbor, against whom ho entertained feelings of the greatest animosity, and ten cents for whisky screwed his courage to tho stick ing point. But in the hurry and hustle incident to the publication of a great family newspaper, errors are hound to creep in, and Mr. Stein somehow got his gun wrong end foremost and shot him self through the head. It seems as though there were, more accidents this year than ever before. Peek’s Sun. Practicing Economy. “ Would you mind standing here till Igo in and get a cigar?” he asked. “Of course not,” she replied; “but don’t you think, Henry, that smoking is of fensive, and that it. will lie easier prac ticing economy after marriage if it is practiced during courtship ?” “ You’re right,” he said ; “ I shan’t smoke any more, sweet,” and she looked unuttera ble love at him as they resumed their stroll. Just then they came to an ice cream saloon, and he said : “ There, now, I meant to treat you to ice-cream, but, as you say, it is best to practice economy during courtship. Ten cents for u cigar, 110 cents for two ice-creams —4O cents saved in a single night. Let’s go over to the fountain and take a drink of water.” They went, but she was mail enough to bite her own head off. John Quincy Adams on Vanity. “ They say lam vain. Thank Ood I am so. Vanity is the cordial drop which makes the bitter nop of life go down. I agree with Mrs. Elizabeth Montague, who wrote to her uncle, the Bishop, to inquire whether the text, ‘All is vanity and vexation of spirit,’ was not badly translated. She thought it ought to be, ‘All is vanity or vexation of spirit.’ She implied that what was not vanity was sure to be vexation, and there I am with her, ” J. L. DENNIS, Editor. #I.OO ii Year. One of Tom Ochiltree's Jokes. The vaulting ambition and unblush ing assurance of some of these infant mining camps remind me of a good story which a gentleman from Galves ton, now uhont to engage iu mining here, told me tho other evening nhout Mnj. Tom Ochiltree, of Texas. 1 don’t mean to apply it to Silver Cliff, though I have not failed to discover traces of the lame spirit here. Everybody who Ims been iu Washington often since the reconstruction of the South knows Tom Ochiltree, and he is not a stranger in New York. A good soldier, l believe, on the Confederate side, he became a Republican at tho close of the war and a favorite of President Grant, who ap pointed him Uuitcd States Marshal for Texas when that office was worth u good deal more money than it is now. The Major’s father was one of the most, eminent jurists in Texas, before tho w ar, and had a good deni of trouble w ith his son, who, though not bad, was full of mischief. At length, when Tom approached young manhood, tho old Jinigo deter mined to sober him by study, and so took him into his own law office, where ho kept him pretty closely at his luniks for about three years. Tom was a good scholar, made satisfactory progress, and was finally admitted to the liar and taken into partnership by his father. A few months after this, the Judge, as ho was starting for Dallas one morning to attend a long session of the court, looked up at, the old, weather-beaten sign, which had been above bis office door lor a quarter of a century, and told Tom ho thought it was about time to have anew one, “and, Tom,” he said, “suppose you attend to it, get ft good sign, and have tho name of the firm painted on it.” Tho old gentleman wont to Dallas and was gone several days. Returning, when lie came in sight of the little frame otHeo, ho thought ltlookoil strange, and riding nearer he found stretching clear across tho building, an immense sign hoard, on which was painted iu Inigo lotters: “ T. F. Oohji.treb and Father, Counsellors aud Attorneys at Law." Tom was at his desk deeply absorbed in working.up a caso, and never could understand why the old man should havo caused that sign to be taken down. —Colorado Letter to file# York Tribune. A Mu sen in Gathered from a Mower. Tho largo area drained into tho Tiber creek sewer causes a grout quantity of gravel and sand to accumulate in the level sootion of thnt conduit, between Indiana avenue and the James Creek canal. This section requires to he cleaned out every year, and many hun dreds of oart-loails of sand and gravel is removed therefrom, whion is used for direct paving. In the office building, within this yard, Mr. Lamer has a mu seum of things taken from this debris, to whioh ho has been addingfrom day today for two or throe years. 'This is a perfect old curiosity shop in its way. Of eourso there are no glass cases nor gild ed caskets for their arrangement, blit fur tho most part they are tacked up on a rough board partition, where they can be looked at, no one caring to bundle them. Among tho rusty and corroded tilings tho Aim reporter noticed a shoe maker’s pincers, screw bolts, gas fixt ures, wiust-belt buckles, spools, skate irons, andirons, hoes, casters, doll-baby heads, metallic and mineral toys for children, smoking-pipes, door-knobs, a clasp and part of buckskin purse, metal lic match-box, milk-strainer, jewsharp, gaming-chocks, a silver thimble, oil-cans, combs, hair-brushes, a parlor skate, paint-brushes, gutta-jierchu nipples for babies’ nursing-bottles, eye-glasses, glass alleys, a screw-driver, child’s gutta-per cha rattle, part of a month harmouieon, pocket and table knives, tea and table spoons, horseshoes, brass wheels of clocks, a toy steam-engine, iron rings, stove-castings, sets of rams’ horns, skull hones of dogs und sheep, a looking-glass frame, a nut-cracker, a copper kettle, stove-grates, gimlet, German silver watch, saw, cake-plate, scarf-pin, gun eartridges, and a child’s skull. On a shelf is arranged a quantity of chuuks of iron-scraps, gravel, and sand, all cemented together in compact masses, formed, it is supposed, in low places within tho sewers, where these things settle owing to their weight, and during heavy freshets are forced out in large chunks and washed down to this level. These masses appear to he com posed mostly of iron nails and iron scraps, among which, now and then, is a horseshoe, a gun-lock, keys, screws, an otei large copper cent, hair-pins, boop skirts, scissors, etc. Washington Star. Possessive My or Mine. A foreigner writes to the Now York Sun: i am studying English, and for that reason I pay a great deal of atten tion to the language of those with whom I happen to converse. Now tho little IKiKsessivo pronoun “rny” is so often used and, id least in rny judgment, abused, that it begins to worry me. For example, a lady recently said to me : “ I locked mydoor and went to iny butcher to order my provisions. When I re turned home I found my stove cold and rny fire out, and that was lucky, too, for rny kettle was nearly empty, and it would have been ruined if my fire had been going. I expected my husband every minute, so 1 hurried to make my fire again and prepare my dinner. Unfort unately, my butcher Inid forgotten to bring my tripe, so J gave him a piece of my mind and sent him back for my tripe,” and so on. Now i am not a communist, but I would nil her drop “rny” altogether than to apply it equally to husband, butcher, tripe and tea-kettle. The Bee’s Sting. The sting of the bee is said to be a hollow tube. The male bee is inoffen sive, not being provided with this weapon or pointed tube ; therefore when one of these inm eta alights lijsin a hare footed Vioy the soliloquy of Hamlet im mediately forces itself iijm.ii that boy’s mind as lie anxiously awaits the results. “ Tube t>ee or not tills- liee? That’ the question.”— Yautcob Strauss. And now a physician says that long walks before breakfast bring on dys pepsia. JOTTINGS AND CLIPPING*. Make Twain fathers three Ixioks and five children. Evert persog iu America writes an av erage of twenty letters per year. A Spanish tombstone read: “I was well, wanted to lie lietter, took physic, and hero I am.” Life is full of hitter lossoiih, the simp lest of which is that one rnsn’s fall makes forty men laugh. The Prince ol' Wales’ life is insured for S2OO,(MX). His annual premium on this sum is ,(XXI. Hem,, of telephoneaf me, could have taken SIO,IXIO for his iiiventiqp, but he held on and made a million. Queen Victoria is old-fashioned in her speech and calls a night gown by its right name. No embroidery for her. Ft is estimated that more than ‘21X1,000 1 deadheads are luunmlly passed over the railroad lines of tho United States. he most popular woman in Germany is said to be the Grown Princess of Prus sia, the Queen of England’s eldest daughter. A San Francisco servant girl mode SIO,(XX) in stockk and in one afternoon purchased 003 different articles at a dol lar store. Chicago has had sixty brass hands playing there at one time; hut, Ht. Louis folks have been suffering from hog cholera, so the cities are even. James Gordon Bennett is 4‘2 years old and not likely to take a wife though at least ten New York belles havo in turn sighed for him. Whun n man finds a fly ill his coffee at a Loadvillc hotel his safest wny is to write a postal to the landlord after leaving town. A complaint on the spot would lead to his being shot at. Bates College in Maine, had SIOO,- (XX) left to it on condition that an addi tional SIIXI,(MX) would lie raised. The additional was not forthcoming, and now Bates loses the original bequest. Tiie man who lands in Leadvillo with out money will Und a hundred people perfectly willing to assist him. When they get. through he will discover that he is three miles beyond the corporation limits. The story that a Ht,. Louis girl step ped on a shark at Atlantic City and buried him two feet in tho sand origin ated iu Chicago, where the weight of two girls will break down a street car plat form. Olive Logan says that, the first duty of a girl on finding herself uglv-looking and ungainly is to cultivate such a sweet temper that seme one will he certain to marry her. Olivo forgets thot we buy eggs on sight. A Troy street-ear conductor refused to stop his ear and let the pasoengnrs wit ness u dog-fight, and where is that car conductor to-day? No man can trample on the rights of tho public with im punity. Tub Prince of Wales’ two sons are somewhat lively While on a sea voyage, recently, the younger was heard to ex claim, “Como, bub, time up your fid die and give us ’God save your old Grandmother Gboroh W. Guinns is going to build a house costing #175.(t00 That is, lie is going to get into a Mace whore he can’t take an hour's comfort, because he can’t put his feet upon window-sills or mantles. i A Boston correspondent says Joaquin Miller looks tamer than lie used to. His hair no longer spreads over his coat col lar, and his costume is quieter than it used 10 be. But he has the gloomy, dreamy aspect of old, and he is one who can not pass unnoticed along the busy streets. Tnk American colony in Paris is smaller than at any previous time in twenty years. It costs twice as much now to live iu Paris ns iu America in the same style. Formerly it cost double Paris in America. There is nothing now cheap in France oxcopt apparel, anil only parts of that. New ZbaIjAND, whose first railroad was lmilt, twelve years ago, has now over 1,100 miles in successful operation. All the roads are three feet six inch gauge. They are all owned and operated by the government, anil under tlie control of a minister of public works, with a commis sioner of railways for each island, who has a general and traffic manager under him. When the London tailor confines him self to his legitimate sphere, the manu facture of ladies’ riding habits, he is un excelled, but when he rashly wont lures to make garments for his own sex, his in feriority is painfully munifest. Ho takes the best cloth iu the world and makes it into a coat that wrinkles in the arm-pits anil pinches tho waist. True to his in stincts ns a dress-maker, lie saves pad ding from the shoulders to lavish it on the fronts of his coats.— London Letter. Recent Points in Etiquette. Huy “ good morning ” or “good even ing ” to the hostess, on leaving tho room. “Ho long, old girl” has gone out, in the best society. If there are seventy-five or 100 per sons in the company, it is not necessary for you to shako hands all round. Ho not be in haste to get clown to din ner without waiting for a tardy guest. Give him at least thirty: minutes. You may have to get down on your hands and kuees arid crawl around and feel for < lost collar button yourself sometime. Upon introduction to a young lady, immediately ask her ndtf aiul the size of her shoes. This Will put you riff WI Nmy conversational plane. In society, a note requires as prompt an answer as as; token question. And in the bank it requires a great deal prompt er 01.0. Do not thank any one who waits on you at table. Look wan and hungry as though yon wanted more. To tilt, back in your chair and drum idly on your head with your fork is con demned in good society.— Burdette. A Lamenttthle Lit. The woman who cannot grow old is jealous of her own children, and keeps aloof from them. She wakes love while her son is making love. She beams and lowers her voice and steps out ns grace fully as she can, and she is not unwill ing that her figure should lie compared with the figure of her son’s lady ac quaintances. Her morals are irre proachable. She never did a wrong; tint that is not the fault of her dear, gar rulous husband, who never knew how to mnke love to her. She wishes that some young fellow would make love to her, but she seldom finds him. When she does, her simpering folly rails blushes to the cheeks of her children, while tho young m hinaughs ut her. Manners. What a rare gift is that of manners ! How difficult to define, how much more difficult to impart ! Better for a man to possess them than wealth, beauty, or talent; they will moro than supply all, — Bulwer-Ly It on .