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THE ministry of sonq. Not the child’s song with careless laughter rising From rosy lipe in childhood's sunny days, !*ot that sweet strain which youth delights in singing, Are life S best melody and truest praise Gladsome are these, and beautiful; their ca dence Floats down long yean, life's morning song seems best; Although maturity, with sighs, confesses Her children s songs bring pit> and unrest. Who soothes the ear of grief with hint of pleasure? Who comfort 1 age with hope of things to be? Why have youth's song and life's maturer measure No common keynote in life's harmony? None know—and yet, from out our care and clamor We hear the wondrous music silence holds. In piteous nw l, one human lamentition Most beauteous strain of sympathy enfolds. Joy's hippy lay and grief's heart broken A wailing * ■ ord know, till soma poor stricken heart, With faith sublime, turns from its own re pining To comfort with n song some life apart As even song of bird rooms holier, sweeter, Tinn any note the noonday's riot knew; Ho that faint voice from devolution rising May solace an l uplift the w.de world through. Elith K. Perry. WITH HIS LEFT HAND. lIY OPIE P. READ. There lived in the neighborhood of Real wallow, Ky , a notorious “bully” named Aif !■ eathcr>too. Unlike the aspiring man of a mining camp he did not r<si his reputation upon tli : knif ■ nor the hurning ol powder, but upon the vigor of his arm and the agility of lm body. “I don't hanker airier killin’ a mail, ’ he often rema ked. “I jest wantei break ,-oinc tiv his bones an' see him grin Rhe a possum.” One day, while a number of men were at work on a log in iting-h u e, Alf came along, : nd, iifi< r !e dmg a helping hand m the | lacing of a large log, he turned to the men and stiff* *l l unis, I see some p.My tout lookin' timber ’mungst yo •, tiut l e;i wimp my man in the crowd.” “Now, Ml,” replied old man Sum ti'C!“we air engaged in puttin’ up a h "hp " peace, an' it would look rather out of keepin’in us to stop and tight.” i he very foundation uv yore shebang is bu.lt o:i blood,” Alf rejoined, “an’ l don,tree why you air so luealy-mouth o' ft't iiio here log coutr ip-hun. They tell me that when churches wuz fust built l ilks i;.st< r g,t around ’em an’ hit each other wi h clubs an’ hack out one another's blood withs ythc blades an’ sick. ” ' Iftin'tgoin' to nrgy with you, Alf,” Raid old nun Hummers, “fur I dou’t reckon it makes no <li:fuuce to you "'limber the church wuz baptized in bloc and ur rain water. ” “ f 'r ambicr,” suggested Alf. ‘‘lsay J uin’t goiu to argy with you. Boys, who's that a comiu’ yanderf” “• im Peters,” someone replied. “Hint jest stan’s me iu hand, ’ said Alt, with brightening countenance. “I had one li*t? ot whh him wunst an’ I and de t. gae h:m quite enough, as I have hcatu that he wa’n’t sadisfied.” Miiwnin’, hands, mawnin’!” shouted Him ;a be approached. “ Buildiu’ a she i> j en, bail 1” lie remarked as he < mm- up and glanced at the logs scat toiei about. “ Sheep pens air mighty title tilings, l nclc Summers, hut I reckon you'll have to chink ’em putty tight to keep the goats frutn gittiu’ip.” " l reckon we ken manage to keep you out, Sim,” the old man replied. The men roared, and At, after snorting con temptuously, said: “eh, he thawed you that time; jest natholly chawed both yore years oil.” Wall, now.” Sim rejoined, “he’d have a mighty lug ol> et he wuz to un dertake to chaw oIF both tiv yourn.” ! “\ on bet him ur anybody el-e would; not bccaze my years is so big but becazc they air the inherited property uv sich a man.’ h, let up about bein’ sich a man,” Him lejiked. “We ain’t beam nuthin' fur a year ur two but how good a mau yen think you ur. You air ez big ez a crap niMugagc.” Alf -“r e.s, an’ ez strong.” Him “Yes, an'ez much uv a cut throat.” Old Summers- “Co.r.c, gentlemen,you air a gittin’a leetle too dost to each oth er. ” Alf “He ain't gittiu’ none too dost to me. I ken stand anything uv that sort, l ken. I wuz raise i three in abed, me. I don't beer how dost a man gits to re, ez long ez he sticks to the truth.” Him “Hut the cluster amm sticks to the ttilth the finder lie is awav from you.” Old Hummers “Lome, gentlemen, sdon t mow I an’jowcr. It ain t■ bccomin’ in men to act thaler way. Turn to here an' he'p its up with th it big side log.” Alt—“i ain't thinkin''bout he’pin’ up with no log. I'm thinkin' 'bout walkin’ somebody's iog, me." Him- “.Mi; e, I reckon.” Alf— “i’ouru.” Him “)on better put spikes in yore shoes ur you mout slip off.” Alf- “Oh, I’m rough shed. Sim Peters, I ken whip vou with mv left hand.’’ Sim—“ That's what vou said some time ago, but w! e:; 1 got to pushin’ putty hard you tuec two hands, an' woulder tuck three ef y id a had 'em.” Alf—“lf Id and take two hands it wuz btc ize I forgot mvse'f. ’ Him —“.No. I think it wuz becaze you recollected yourself. Gentlemen, I ain't had no peace fur a good while, on ac count of this yore feller. Ever’whar I go I tied that lie has been thar just befo' me, givia' it out that he ken make me climb a t:ee ur go down in a sink-hole, an' I’ll tell you what's a lack, ef this sorter talk ain't stopped, somebody's goin' down into a hole never to come out agin.” Alf —“Who wuz it that snapped a pistol at me last fall? Who wuz it that flung a hatchet at me one day when I wuz drunk *” Sim —“I ain’t on the witness stand.” Alf—“ You wouldn't tell the truth ef you wuz.’’ Sim—“Ef the truth wuz told about you the folks would run you outen the neighborhood. ” Alf—“ That mout be, but nobody never hung my daddy.” tld Summers —“Come, Alf, don’t talk tliater way.” Sim—“My daddy wuz hung —hung bv the bushwhackers, an’ Tore daddy, Alf Featkerson, wuz the scoundrel that tied the repe.” Aif—“An’ they tell me that he put up a mighty tine job. But that ain’t got nuthin' to do with the pi’nt iu question. I said that I ken whup you with my left hand THE MONROE ADVERTISER: FORSYTH. GA„ TUESDAY. FEBRUARY 21. 1888—EIGHT PAGES. Old Summers—“ Now. boys, we don’t want any fightin’ here; do we, Brothel Hensley?” Brother Hensley—“ Wall. I b'levethat under the sarcumstances we mout ez well have a little. Neither one uv these fellers is any account, an’ it would be a good thing fur the neighborhood ef they wuz both out uv the wav. I say let ’em fight.’’ Alf (to Hensley)—“An’ will you seo that nobody interferes?” Hensley— “Yes.” Aif—“Not even ef I am about to kill him ?” Hensley—“ Not as long as you only use your left hand, as you agreed to do.' Sim—“l’ii see that he don’t use none but his left hank” Alf stood with his right hand resting on a stump. Sim, after remarking that he would see that Alf used none but his left hand, slily took up a broad a \e, and, with a lightning-like blow,chopped off All’s right hand. The hand rolled eff the stump and fell upon the ground. The church builders stood as if stupefied. An expression of horror settled upon Alf's face. He made no outcry. He held up his right arm as though lie would examine h's wrist. Blood spurted in his face. Sim stood waiting for him. “Only your left hand this time,” said he. Alf sprang upon him and caught him by the throat. “Part ’em! part ’em!” shouted old Summers. “Hands ofT!” exclaimed Hensley. “One hand’s off, at any rate, .lust staii’ back, now, gentlemen, an’ let ’e a ’nave it out. The community hain’t got nothin’ at slake.” Alf choked Sim down to the ground— choked him down between two logs. “Part ’em, for heaven’s sake!” old Summers pleaded. “.-ton—let ’em alone,” Hensley de- I manded. “Heaven ain't got nothin’ at stake here.” “He'll bleed to death, Brother Hen sley.” “Let him bleed. He wanted a diffi kilty, now let him waller in it.” Both of the men h id ceased to strug- j glo, still, Ilensley would permit no one i to approach them. Some of the horri- j tied workmen took up their coats and j turned away from the sickening sight. “Take ’em apart,” said Hensley. The church-builders turned over one of tire logs and nervously removed All’s stiffening fingers from Him’s throat, j Both men were dead. —Arka uaw \ Traveler. The Value of Ejgs. Eggs are a m al in themselves. Every element necess ry to the support of man I is contained within the limits of an egg- j shell, in the best proportions and in the : most palata’ le form. Plain boiled, they | are wholcsom ■. The masters of French j cookery, however, affirm that it is easy ; to dress them ■fcuore than ,10) different ways, each ir.ctHd not only economical, but salutary iußhe highest dcgicu. No honest a..petite ever yet rejected an egg i in some guise. It is nutriment iu the i most portable form and in llie most con- ; centrated shape. Whole nations of man kind rarely touch any other animal food. Kings eat them plain as readily as do the humble tradesmen. After the victory of Muhldorf, when the Kaiser Ludwig sat at a meal with his burggrafs and great cap’,tains, he determined on a piece of lu ;ury—“one egg to every man. and two | to the excellently valiant Schwcpper- i man.” Far more than ti h—for it is watery diet—eggs arc the scholar’s faro, j They contain phosphorus, which is brain food and sulphur, which performs a ! variety of functions iu the economy. ' And they are the best * f nutriment for i children, for, in a compact, form, they contain everything that is necessary for the growth of the youthful frame. Eggs j arc, however, not. only food—they are j medicine also. The white is the mod ! efficacious of remedies for burns, and j the oil extractable from the yolk is j regarded by the Russians as an al- j mo t miraculous salve for cuts, bruises J and scratches. A raw egg, if swallowed j in time, will effectually de at h a sh bone i fastened in the throat, anti the white ol | two eggs will render the dt adly corrosive t sublimate as harmless as a dose of caio- ] mel. They strengthen the consumptive, invigorate the feeble, aid render the most susceptible all bit proof against jaundice in its more malignnt phase. The merits of eggs do not even end he e. In France alone the wine clarifiers use more than 80,000,0 0 a year, and the Alsatians consume fu ly 38,000,00!) in calico print ing aid for dressing the leal her u ed in making the finest of French k : d gloves. Finally, not to mention various other j employments for eggs in the arts, they j may, of course, almost without trouble on the farmer’s part, be converted into fowls, which, in any shape, are prod table i to the seller and welcome to the buyer, j Even eggs-shells are valuable, for allopath and homeopath alike agree in regarding them as the purest of carbonate of lime. —London Standar I. The Highest Waterfalls in the World. A cording to Dr. Wevtsch, the highest waterfalls are the throe Krhnbs Falls, in the upper Prinzgau, which have a total height of 1,14 •’> teat. The three falls next in height are found in Scandinavia —the Yerrna Foss, in Romsd and (981 feet); the Yettis Foss, on the Sogne Fjord a. So 3 feet); the Rjukau Foss, in Theleiharken (> 0 1 feet '. With a decrease in height of 213 feet the three Yclino Fails (391 feet', near Zerni, the birth place of the historian Tacitus, follow next, and are succeeded by the three Tossa Falls, in the Yal I'ormazza (341 fee:). The Gasteiu Falls, in the Gastcin Yaltey (469 feet), are midway between the Skjaggedal Foss, in the Hardaager Fjord (524 feet), oud the Boring Foss, in the same fjord. The great Anio Cascade, near Tivoli (315 feet', appears small by the side of the foregoing, but is still larger than the Falls of the Elbe in the Riesengebirge, which are only 14s f ee t high. If the width of the falls is taken into consideration t e most imposing are those of the Yictoria Fails of the Zambesi, which are 394 feet high, by a width of 8,200 feet. A long way behind come the Niagara Falls, 11" feet high and 1,908 feet wide. The third largest f ills is that of the Rhine at Schaihausea, 14s feet wile by only 3 > feet high. The highe't waterfalls mentioned cannot compare with those gigantic faffs as re gards cubic contents. Squirrels Drive Off Torkeys. The other day two turkeys belonging to a poultry raiser in the suburbs of Mis souri City, flew up in a tree. Shortly afterward a fox squirrel came out of a hole and appeared to be greatly discomfited by the presence of the fowls. Not being able to drive them from their perch, the little animal ran back to its den, returning with a companion. Both adopted the tactics and maneuvers oi the first until at last the turkeys showed signs as of annoyance and bother bt ruffling their feathers and turning red it: the gills. Finally the capers of thi squirrels became too much for the tur kevs, when they spread their wings and . sailed away, much to the sat sfactioa ol the squirrels, as they jumped around is frolicsome glee.— G'obe-Democrat. THE BENDERS. THE MOST ATROCIOUS DESPER ADOES OF THE VY E IT, How They Worked. A Woman Whose Pleasure "Was Assassina tion in Cold Blood Ten Victims in One Grave. The story of the Bender family illus trates the possibilities for crime and gain that anew country sparsely settled always furnishes. The Bender family consisted of an old man and his wife and a son and daughter Kate. They kept a sort of wayside inn, with a saloon attach ment, about ten miles west of a little vil lage oqlied Galesbutg.in Neosho County, Kansas. Here travelers often put up for the night,aud it was usually the case that they took lodgings for eternity. Their scheme was an ingenious one, and it was successfully played upon many a lonely man traveling through the country, whose doom was forever sealed the instant he darkened the Benders’ door. When they saw a traveler approaching some member of the family would stray out of the house and busy himself by the wayside, and as the traveler came along would ac cost him in a pleasant manner, asking him where he was going, and if the time was anywhere about nightfall, he -would be assured lhat he could not reach his destination, and proposed that he step in and remain over night. Such an ap parently hospitable offer was seldom de clined. The interior of the house was pur posely arranged for the double purpose of murder and robbery. The front room was separated from the back by a thin curtain, arranged similar to those that are put over folding doors. When a man entered whom they intended to rob and murder, he would be invited to take a chair with his back to the curtain, so that when he sat down his head would be against the curtain. Sometimes sev eral travelers stopped over night at once, on which occasion as many members of the family as possible would secret them selves bi hind the curtain, and, each se lecting a victim, would await the right moment to brain them. If a stranger came along, who for any reason chose to change h s seat, then the family became exceedingly jocose and entertaining. The old man told funny stories of early times and hair-breadth escapes on the plains. Games were proposed aud all sorts of merriment indulged in. Among the games would be one in which the traveler had to get down on his knees on a pillow and close his eyes. I’lie pillow would be placed directly over the trap door, and at the right time Kate would step from the curtain, and, dealing the kneeling victim a blow on the back of the head with a large hammer, follow it up by a blow on the temple with a smaller hammer, which finished the traveler. The trap-door was then pulled and the victim fell into the cellar below. People were missed, and there were frequent inquires for strangers who had been seen in the town of Neosho, but whose whereabouts could be traced no further than the neighborhood of the Benders’ house. The Benders were re garded as tough characters, but nothing of a positive character was known against them. The immediate cause of their discovery was a woman whose hus band resided in Eastern Kansas. He ex pected to settle in the western part of the State, and took hts departure, agreeing to return by a certain timejand to bring his wife along. Time rolled on, and not re turning,his wife started in search of him. As luck would have it she was overtaken near night at the Benders’, and took a room there. It was a room in the second story, and looking around she saw on the bureau a small locket which at once at tracted her attention. Opening it she saw a picture of herself that she recollected her husband always wore. Then her suspicions were thoroughly aroused, and she resolved to watch an opportunity to escape. She did not retire, but putting out her light resolved to watch by the window and await developments. It was a bright moonlight night and the window opened upon an orchard. Soon she saw a light moving around in a mysterious manner. Without making any uoise she succeeded in making her escape. She moved toward the spot in the orchard and closely watched the movements of the people. When they had disappeared she went to the spot and found a newly made grave. Paralyzed with terror at the narrow and fortunate escape she had, for she realized that the grave was dug for herself, she remained upon the prairies in hiding until morning came, when, repairing to one of the neighbors, she re lated what she had seen, and showed the locket as proof of her story. The news soon spread, and what had been mere suspicions before became hard facts as true as Holy Writ. A posse of citizens was at once organized and they repaired to the Bender resideuce, but the birds had flown. Their stock and cattle were found, and their horses tied to a wagon. They fol lowed after them, scouring the country, but whether they overtook them or not, or meted out to them the grim justice that they so justly deserved, is one of the unsolved mysteries. On their return the members of the posse refused to talk, and there have been various rumors that the family escaped and fled to Germany with their ill-gotten gains; that they are living ih Texas or Mexico. There were a number of graves found on the Bender place, ten being in one spot, besides several bodies in the cellar. The hammers that were used by Kate, the daughter, who is described as the most fiendish of the gang, are now in the possession of a man named Bailey, who holds an official position in Parsons, Kan. fche was a repulsive-looking, large boned, raw and awkward woman, with a slinking gait and masculine ways. Her foiehead was low, her eyes deep-set in her head, and her lips thick and chin and lower jaw large. Old man Bender had an unkempt appearance, with long, shagg’ety hair, and a full beard that was scraggly and dirty. The father and daughter were two as repulsive-looking beings as could be conjured up, and their many crimes entitle them to a lead ing place in the criminal history of America.— Cincinnati Enquire r. Light from Wind. Experiments are being made in France near the mouth of the Seine, on the production of electricity for lighthouse purposes by means of the force obtained by windmills. The suggestion to do so was made by the Due ae Feltre, and it is a system proposed by him that is to be tested. The wind works a dynamo electric machine employed in charging accumulators of suitable capacity. The electricity so produced and stored is to be used at will to make a focus of light. The system, if successful, will have the advantage of costing only the putting up of the machinery. The whole question to be ascertained is whether a sufficient quantity of electricity can be stored to provide for the requirements of any par ticular station "hen there is no wind to move the sails of the mill. An Old-Time Almanac-Maker. Among my first recollections wa see-' ing my mother take down a copy of j Grier's almanac, which was suspended by a string to the mantelpiece, to see about the changes of the moon. Robert Grier, the maker of this wonderful almanac, was a very plain man, who lived and died years ago in Butts Coun ty. During his life he made the calcula tion for the almanacs, and almost every family in Georgia at least had a copy of this almanac, and relied on it for much valuable information. He pretended to tell when it would rain, and many othei things. He was considered a wonderful man. Although he has been dead many years, Grier's almanac still lives. Aftei his death the calculations were made by Thomas P. Ashmore, until he failed, anil now they are made by his nephew. Prof. Otis Ashmore, one of the most intelli j gent educators in Georgia. Once it is said Mr. Grier was riding along the road, when he came to where a boy was holding a calf by the ears, while his mother milked the cow. He rode up to make some inquiries about the road. He addressed the boy and said: “My son, can’t you open that gate for me, so I can go a near way through the plantation?” “Yes,” said the boy, “if you get down and hold the calf, and if you dou’t mind j you will get a good wetting before you I go far.” Mr. Grier rode off and opened the gate himself, giving but little heed to what the lad said, for he looked above and saw no sign of rain. He rode on for several miles, and true enough the clouds began to gather, and soon it was pouring down rain, so that Mr. Grier soon became thor oughly drenched. He was so anxious to know the weather sign that he rode back | to inquire of the boy how he knew so well it was going to rain. He wanted to secure so important a weather sign. He found the boy and said: “My son, I’ll give you a silver half dollar if you will tell me how you knew it was going to rain.” The little fellow promptly replied; “Dad’s got one of old Grier's almanacs, and he said it was not going to rain, and he is such an old liar about the weather, I knew it would rain.” He had no idea j he was addressing the old gentleman himself. Mr. Grier paid him the half dollar and rode off, amused at the poor opinion the boy had of him as an almanac maker.— Wesleyan Advocate. A Wife’s Devotion. A remarkable case of a wife’s devotion has been reported from North Bay, Can , ada, where, in a dreary and isolated hut, lived J ohn Benoit, his wife and five chil dren on the shore of Lake Nipising. Benoit’s wife had been bedridden for many months, and was helpless to attend to the household duties, which devolved upon the husband and the elder of the children. On Thursday Benoit, who had been absent from home at Bonsteel’s Point, started to return, but when within 100 yards from the shore he found thick ice which prevented his going farther ahead in his bark canoe. With an axe ; he commenced cutting a channel, but | had not proceeded far when this fell out !of his hands into the water. He then started to crawl on hands and knees to ward the shore, but his heavy weight broke the ice, and he was thrown into the freezing water. When twenty feet from the shore he became exhausted, and could proceed no farther or lift himself out of the ice, which would now bear him up. From her sick bed his wife had wit nessed his struggles through a window, and, unable to contain herself longer, rushed out of the house, without shoes or stockings, on to the ice, where she, as if by supernatural strength, managed to pull him out. By this time he had be come unconscious, and for over three hours she endeavored to keep him alive by rubbing and keeping his body warm, in the hope that help would come, but to no avail, as he died at eleven o’clock at night. Seeing that his life was extinct, she then started, with the youngest child in her arms, for the nearest neighbor’s, five miles distant, where help was secured and the body taken from the ice.— Globe-Democrat. A City Romance. One winter’s evening about 8 o’clock a young lawyer was walking up Broad way after working late at his office. Be fore him tripped a young woman. He judged her to be a typewriter getting home late, and she was evidently nervous. Just opposite Bond street a half-drunken fellow comes rolling out of the Grand Central cafe. He catches a glimpse oi the pretty typewriter, and as they gei under a lamp-post speaks to her. Shi says nothing aud walks faster. Fello" tries again-no use. ffhen he puts hu arm around her waist, Typewriter screams. My young lawyer behind hits the fellow a clip under the ear. Type writer scurries away. Fellow' picks him self up and talks loudly. Nobody around. Fellow draws a sand club and breaks the young lawyer’s wrist, when along comes another of Our3 who knows the lawyer. He knocks the clubbei down. Then the two friends go off to gether. Lawyer gets his arm bound up, and 1 couple of weeks later goes to a diunei at his friend’s with his arm in a sling. Friend tells the story. Confusion ol lawyer. Marked inteiest of a beautiful heiress opposite. She was the type writer. She was out on a charitable er rand on Bleecker street and kept late. Tableau. Curtain rung down on orangi blossoms, bridal veil, etc.—J Vew Tori Lettter. The Ruins of a Submerged City. A city at the bottom of the sea was seen near Treptow, in Prussia, when 1 powerful south wind blew the waters o) the Baltic away from the shore,uncoverin| a portion of ground usually hidden awai from sight by the waves. It was the ruin; of the city of Regamuende,once a flourish ing commercial station, which was swallowed by the sea some five centuries ago. The unusual spectacle was not en joyed but for a few hours, when the storm slackened and the waves returned to cover up the place which had once been the residence and field of labor of busy men. —Chicago Neics. Beware of the Ivy. There is one feature about ivy which is disastrous rather than romantic, and which must be guarded against. Give it time enough and it will unroof your house. In any very old house you will find it lifting the tiles, and through any small aperture sending a bright greeD shoot through the ceiling into the room. The writer of this sheet well remembers reluctantly hairing to destroy a noble ivy, and having entirely also to re-roof a whole building it had overrun. CassellU Magazine. She Didn’t Think So. A young lady named Wiser was re* , cently married in New Y’ork. We haven’t much to say, oi course, Nor should she Fate have parried, Yet Wiser she would surely be If fhe had never married. [ ... —Washington CritiA. • BUDGET OE RX . Busronors sketches toom VARIOUS SOURCES,- Striking a Balance^—Rcussnrea— bucooss as a Failure—A Slight Mistake—U iselfish But * Curious, Etc. nsgipy—“Ha, Gagley, squaring up iccounts for the year,'” Gagley (gloomily.—“ Yes.” Bagley—“Hope you come out well." Gag ley—“Well. I’ve put ten thousand Into the bank.” Bagiev—“That isn't so bad. I don’t see why you look so glum.” Gag ley—“Don’t, eh< Why, confound it, _ v-p drawn out over thirteen thous- S’id- Life. Reassured. Hr.?t (persuasively)—“Miss Elegant, ♦ you kindly gratify the company with one of your latest selections on the oiano? They admire your style so aiuch.” Bashful Young Lady—“O! Mr. Good fellow —I m such a bashful thing—l can never play when anybody is listening.” Ho-t tassuringly)—“Oh, don't' let that worry you: nobody will listen, I ni sure. They didn’t pay the slightest at tention to your last, I know.”— Judge. Success as a Failure. “I now realize that there is some truth in the saying, ‘Many a man succeeds without being successful,’ ” said a hotel proprietor who had for the second time been sold out by the Sheriff. “Indeed!” said a friend. “How do you make that out :” “Well, I have again succeeded in being a failure,” he replied, with a sigh.— Hotel Mai!. A Slight Mistake. Ethel lias been spending her accus tomed hour with her alphabet. Ethel “Oh, mamma! 1 know nearly allot them by heart. Just ask me any letter and I can say it as it is there.” Mamma—“Well, let us see; now what does Sstand for, dear?” Ethel (slowly and with painful hesi tancy)— “8 is for sheep, that makes wool for our clothes. And when—when killed —and when killed becomes pork,as every one knows!”— Judge. Unselfish hut Curious. Mr. Sampson (passionately)—“l love you devotedly. Miss. Ch imiey, but my pe uuiary affairs have prevented my making a declaration until now. But I ha e put enough away now to feel justi fied in asking you to become my wife. ” Miss Chumley (hesitating but sweetly) —“I confess that I am not wholly indif ferent to you, but—but—” “But what, dear?” “Would you mind telling me how much you have put away?”— Siftings. Politeness in the Rockies. Eastern Lady (traveling in Montana)— “The idea of calling this the ‘Wild West.’ Why, I never saw such perfect politeness anywhere.” Native—“ We’re allers perlite to ladies, marm.” Eastern Lady —“Oh, as for that, there is plenty of politene-s even where, but 1 am referring to the men. Why, in New York the men behave horridly to one an other, but here they all treat each other as delicately as geutlemen in a drawing room.” Native—“ Yes, maim; it's safer.”— Omaha World. Unavailable Assets. Johnnie, a bright boy of six years, while being fixed up for school, observ ing his little overcoat much the worse for wear and having more mended places than he admired, turned quickly to his mother and asked: “Ma, is pa rich?” “Yes, very ri h, Johnnie; lie is worth two millions and a. half.” “What in. ma:” ‘ Ah, he values you at one million, me at one million and baby at half a million.” Johnnie, after thinking a moment, said: “Ma, tell papa to sell baby and buy us some clothes.” —Boston Globe. The Burglar Was in Luck. Mr. Poots—“Where is that burglar, Maria? Where is he? Where’s the vil lain gone?” Mrs. Loots- “Gone to the station house. Oh, dear, I’m so distracted. A policeman cameandtook him. Oh,John, why and and you leave me all alone when the alarm rung and run into the garret?” “Why did I run into the garret? I keep ray arms in the garret, that's why.” “But you’ve been gone an hour.” “Took over an hour to oil up my gun and grind my hatchet. But it's lucky for the burglar that my arms were not in or der. ” — Siftings. <<-. They Had Agreed. Clerk of Court —“Well gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a ver dict.” Foreman —“We have.” Clerk —“What say you? Do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?” Foreman—“We do.’’ Clerk —“You do! Do what?” Foreman—“We find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty.” Clerk—“But,gentlemen, you must ex plain—” Foreman —“Of course. You see, six of us find him guilty, and six of ns find him not guilty, so we’ve agreed—to let it goat that.” —Yorik rs's Gazette. J The Bud of Love in Boston. v She (blushing deeply;—“And you wish to pay your addresses to me?” He tenthusiastically^—“That has been the dream of my existence since I first met you’” She—“l scarcely know what to say. I think I must consult mother.” He—“ Certainly. I should expect you, as a dutiful daughter, to consult your mother on a matter of so much import ance ” She—“ You have never met mother!” He— “i never hid the pleasure.” She—“ You will be delighted to know her. She is a noted woman’s right's woman, and President of the Society of Female Emancipation.” He i some what frigidly)—“H’m I 13 that so She (proudly) —“Well, you would think so*if you heard her talk. Why, she is just boilingover with fervor on the sub,eat of woman's wrongs.” He (consulting his watch* —“Well—er —l —l —er - ought to have told you that I—er —coulda t stop but a minute this evening. My—er—uncle is in town and _ er—well, 1 wili call again, when we can renew the sub ect of th s evening’s conversation. ’ —Boston Courier. .. r No R conciliation Possible. “Jack,” said a man to an old class mate in college at whose house he was visiting, “wasn't yonr commencement Oration on the subject of ‘Dignity?’” “Well, y-e-s, I believe it was some thing like that.” “i)idn t part of it run something like &is: ‘it seems tome that the dignified rtsan has a great advantage over hi- fellow men in many ways, that dignity is some thing to be greatly desired. and that it would be well for you and for me to culti vate as much dignity of bearing ami deportment on all o< c isions as possible?' ’ “Yes, it wouldn’t surprise me if 1 wrote something to that effect." “Well, of course, you hiven’t begot ten last evening when you got down on ail fours, had the baby mount your bi k. and then went gal!oping round tlicedm of the parlor, kno king over chairs and raising a dust, while the baby sawed a string in your mouth and pounded you over the head with a drumstick, and you trying to whinuy like a horse at every jump. How do you reconcile these things:” “1 don’t reconcile them at all ” replie 1 the other, with a slightly de c te l air 1 simply submit the fact that the l aby needed exercise an i would have xelle 1 bloody murder if I hadn't galloped . * —Chicago 'J'ribun . A Turkish Banquet. There is nothing among the Turks cor responding to what we call society, and even the intcrcour-e among foreigner' in Constantinople -eemed to the Hon. S. 8. Cox, late American Minister to Turkey, rather dull. The Turk, however, is hospitable. He seldom dines alone, and we have iu Mr. Cox's recent book this entertaining account of a banquet in high life: “The Pasha sits down, cross legged, on a divan, and his eunuch, or aga, brings him a chased silver basin and ewer. After the Oriental method, water is poured upon the hands. Another ser vant brings in a gold-embroklered nap kin; then drawing up a low table, which is becoming common now in our West ern households as an article of bric-a brac, being inlaid with mother-of-j earl, an attendant places upon this the waiter loaded with the repast. There are many dishes to suit a variety of tastes. A fa vorite dish is a lamb roasted whole. It is stuffed with rice, raisins and the favor ite pistachio nut. This nut is sold upon the streets of Constantinople as common ly as the peanut in New York. It is the pearl of good things. Then comes a del icate dish of small fish, and there is no place equal to the Bosphorus for this arti cle. Eggplant,if it be in season, appears fried in oil, and followed by boile 1 squashes stuffed with hash. The Turk ish hash is by no means to be derided, for it is neither second-handed nor equiv ocal. The national dish is called dolma. Hash is an element of that dish. Hash and mutton is the piece de resistance. Bice is served with it. as well as with rabbit, and both are cooked in vine leaves. Then we have chicken-breasts stewed in rose-water, and cakes of flour and sugar, or dough, sweetened and cooked. Then the jellies, the sherbet, the exquisite rose preserves and various ‘dulcet syrups, tinct with the cin namon.’ Nothing equals the ro-e preserves in the eye of the Oriental housewife: and here, by way of parenthesis, it is just to say that the housewifery of the Turki-h matron cannot be overrated. Bhe lias much to do and does it well. There are a number of side dishes in small saucers—most of them delicate and unfamiliar to us. To crown the repast comes the pilaf. This is a dish of rice seasoned with butter and tomato juice, in accordance with an in variable custom at every meal. “Is not til's menu a sign of advanced civilization? 1- not this a tVi-t tit for Lucullus: One of these 1 aster dishes has ns much patriotic flavor as the roast beef of Old England, the frogs of France, the olia of Spain, or the hog and hominy of America. It is the plenteous pilaf, the national dish. It is worthy of all acceptation. ft is sometimes spelled pillau, but generally pronounced p'iaf. 11 is on every Turkish table. It may be made in various ways, but its very soul consists in the essences and sauces which belong to the -tewed meats, over which plain boiled rice is poured. The rice is as white as Ihe unbolted snow of Boreas. To a Turkish or Arab peasant or soldier a dish of pilaf Is a feast of the god-, and as prepared here in the Hast would adorn a Delmonico dinner. “I am not awaie that the Homan gor mand ever ate with his fingers, nor have 1 ever seen aDy classic announcement of the number of tines to his fork ; but it will be many de ades before the Turk gives up the habit of eating with his fingers, or regarding the knife, fork and spoon as otherwise than unhandy table ware—wasteful and ridiculous. “Are there any liquids on the table: No. No bottles, no pitchers? No; only a large glass of water for each guest at the end of the entertainment.” The Bangalas. The Bengalas are a fine race physic ally, being tall, powerful, and splendidly formed, with features by no means of the negro type; the women are the hand somest I have seen in Africa. Their dress i3 scanty, consisting for the most part only of a waist-cloth for thj men and a short kilt of woven grass for the women; but men of high degree often wear mantles of dressed goat or other skins. They cicatrize their arms, shoul ders, and busts in patterns by cutting the sk:n and injecting some irritant. Bome cimes the result looks very well; but in other cases the process is not successful, and raises huge unsightly lumps of flesh. The chief of lboko, wheu I arrived, was an old man over 80—his age was reported by some to be 84, by others 80—who had lost one eye in battle and possessed fifty wives. He was over six feet in height, with a fine, well-developed fig ure, and but for his dirty white hair and shriveled sk'n, would have passed for a man of half his age. He was much at tached to Capt. Coquilhat (named “Mwafa” or the “Eagle” by the na tives:, and never undertook anything without consulting him. The scene just after our arrival at Bengala. when. “ La Hoi des Bangalas ” being announced as we were a'l sitting over our after-dinnef coffee. Mata Bwyki entered, wearing his royal hat of leopard skin and attended by several of his wives—and enfolded Capt. Coquilhat, gold-spangled uniform and all, in an ample bear s hug, wai really worth seeing.— Blaekiccod. The Cattle Plague in Russia. The cattle plague hrs within the past few years fairly laid hold on all parts ol the Odessa district. The sheep runs arc also being decimated. The veterinary inspection supplied by the autho ities it altogether inadequate, and no propel means of isolation are adopted. Left *o themselves the provincial proprietor! and peasant holder- are stupidly helpless. The latter receive nominally only three rubles per head for slaughtering diseased cattle, and this frequently remains in definitely unpaid. The peasants and farmers consequently are apt to conceal the ravages of the piague.— LondonNeuss. Operations at the Brooklyn Navy Yard are more active than iu many years. TALMAGE. PF.V PICTURE OF THE XOTF.D BROOKLYN PREACHER How He “Thinks Out” His Sermons ?lie World lorn Congroga lion—Sunday Morning iu His Church. 4 y Foster Coates, in “A Day with Tal mage, ' an article contributed to the Boston Herald, says: After his midday meal Dr. Talmage 3 ponds an hour in pleasant conversation with the ladies of his family, and then he goes to his study, and with his secre tary, begius the work of getting up his sermons, lectures and Friday night talks. Few men who have stood in the fierce light of public life for 20 years have said so much and said it so well as Talmage. 11c aims to hit on some topic that i prominently before the public, and out of this draws a lesson that his hearers will not forget. Do not imagine that sermon writing is easy. On the con trary, it is very difficult. Dr. Talmage has no trouble, apparently, in preparing a sermon, for he dictates at the rate of 150 words a minute to his secictary, but before he can do this he has to “think out” his sermons. He first begins by having something to say, and then saying it. He delights in selecting odd texts and u-ing short, sharp, snappy sentences. But these very sentences have come to him xvith diffi culty. 11c has learned them by heart while riding on cars, while walking in the streets, and even while lying in his bed at night. Ho lias a wonderful mem ory, and apt illustrations are at his tongue’s end. He has been a close student of history, and he is never at a loss for names and dates. And so it comes that when he is ready to begin to dictate to his secretary his ser mon is practically finished. It is memor ized. lie knows it by heart. After it is written he reads it ouce or twice care fully, and he can then repeat it word for word. And now I shall tell you something that will surprise you. sou have known for a long time that Dr. Talmage is popu lar. Everybody knows that. His church is one of the largest in the country, if not in the world. The Brooklyn Taber nacle can seat, on its main floor and in the galleries, over 4,000 persons, (. amp stools are always placed in the aisles and in the corridors. Thus 500 more persons can be accommodated, and by a series of annexes to the church 1,500 more can be given seats or standing room. These annexes have been built recently. They surround the church, and when the ser mon begins the partitions separating the church from the annexes are hoisted up by pulleys, so that the preacher can be seen and his voice plainly beard. v The immediate congregation at each service consists of about 0,000 persons, and, as a rule, fully half that number more are turned away be ausc they can not find even standing room. A big congregation, you say? Yes, iudeed; but nothing like so vast a c ongregation as the Brooklyn preacher addresses every Monday morning of his life through the newspapers. Hi- Sunday morning sermou, or a por tion of it, is published in some news paper in nearly every city in lliis coun try. In a score of cities the sermon is published by some newspapers in its en tirety. From a source that admit- of no dis pute I am enabled to state positively that the new-papei- in America alone that pubiish these sermons every week have a circulation of Ui, I*oo,ooo. Think of that for an audience! In continental Europe, in Australia, in Sweden, Hussia. Norway. Denmark and India 4,000,000 more copies are published >n each Monday’ morning. Dr. Talmage’s sermons have also been translated and published in book form in at least 40 languages. Nearly 18,000,000 copies of one ser mon published every week in the year! Let us stop a moment until we exactly understand tlie surprising greatness of these figures. It is generally reckoned that an average of three persons read each copy of the daily newspapers published. That would make Talmage’s weekly audience 54,000,000 persons, or nearly as many as are contained iu the United Btatcs. Of course, he has no such audi ence as that. Let us be on the safe side and divide the 1*,000,000 into 0,000,000. The first ob ect that -trikes the visitor to the Brooklyn Tabernacle is the im mense organ. Promptly at 7:15 o’clock the organist runs hi- fingers over the ivory keys, and plays two or three selec tions. At the exact moment of 7:30, Dr. Talnrage xvalks on the platform. Ilis black broadcloth frock coat is thrown open. A turned down collar encircles his neck, and a black tie covers his snowy shirt front. He drops into a blue plush (hair, and a moment is spent in prayer. Th nhe adjusts his glasses to his eyes and opens his Bible. The organ pea s forth, “Praise God from "Whom All Blessings Flow.” A stout well-built man steps on a small platform and waves his right hand. In his left he holds a silver cornet. This he puts to his mouth and leads the vast audience in song. There is no choir or quartet in the Tabernacle. The singing is entirely by the congrega tion. Then the sermon begins. The preacher comes down to the front of the platform without notes or even a book in h s hand. He doesn't use a table or a pulpit. He stands alone. Every eye is on him. He gives out his text in a clear, loud, ring ing voice, and repeats it twice. He usu ally begins the sermon by a hasty word picture of the scene where the text is laid, or by an anecdote. The sermon last.s 10 minutes. It is full of vigor and earnestness. Indeed, that is the chief characteristic of Talmage on the plat form. He 13 in carne t. lie talks quickly, nervously. He paces up and down the platform and now tells a story in a low, sweet voice, and again he belches forth like Vesuvius, and makes 'he chandeliers rat'le with the sound of his voice. At time- he is intensely humorous. Again, he has the audience in tears. Again, he is so dramatic that the conviction forces, itself upon you that if he had taken to the stage instead of the pulpit he would have made a great actor. The vast audience never loses interest. It i- an audience made up fuiiy two third-: of inco 1 vet ween the ages of 25 and ’>s. T 1 ey belong to all walks in life. Some are students, others arc actors and playwrights, young rnini.-ter,. banker, brokers, lawyer- and storekeepers They laugh at the anecdotes, and they cry and they li-ten reverently, tenderly, to the manly pleading to come to Jesus. The preacher knows every lute string in the human heart. He draw s magnificent pictures in words, but he never forgets to send home solid tiuths. It is like a panorama. The curtain is rising and fall ing on resplendent picture-. They daz zle the listeners. The eye is soothed and the car charmed. In Burlington, Vt., the street car* have been put on runne;s. 3