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PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES. How They are Employed, that Is to Say. What They do lor a Living. General Francis A. Walker, in his lecture on “The Occupations of the American People,” at the Lowell Insti tute, said that the census of 1880 gave the total number of persons engaged in occupations as 17,892,099, being 34.68 per cent, of the entire population and 47 31 per cent, of the population of ten years and upward, the total number of the later being 36,761,607. In 1870 the number cf those in occupations was 12,505,923, being 32.43 per cent, of the total population, and 43.30 per cent, of ths population above ten years of age. The division of the grand total of 1880 among the tour principal classes of oc cupations was as follows : Total number of occupations. ...17.892.099 Agr culture 7.670,493 I o fi ssional and personal service 4,074,238 Trade and transportation 1,810,256 Manufacturing, mining and me chanical industries 3,837.112 The number of persons of ten years of age and upward was 30.23 per cent, greater in 1880 than in 1870. Through out the country generally the increase of occupations was largely in excess of the increase of population. This was due to the extension of the factory sys tem and the increased employment of young children. In great grain-growing States the tendency was to restrict the number of bread-winners; in cotton raising and manufacturing States the number tended to enlarge; in mining and grazing States the tendency was still more marked. The lecturer had thrown upon the screen at the back of the platform a stereoptioon view of a table showing the comparative increase in occupations and in population in each State and Terri tory between 1870 and 1880. The num ber of persons engaged in mechan ical and manufacturing occupations in 1880 was 22 per cent, of all occupations of the census of that year. The largest body of artisans of one class were th i carpenters, and they numbered, in 1880, 373,000. The number of coopers is scarcely larger now than in 1850. A large advance had been made in the number of those engaged in mining and mechanical pursuits. The number of lawyers had not differed 4,000 from the number of doctors since 1850. The number of teachers and dentists has greatly increased. The statistics of do mestic services were most interesting; with all the increase of luxury through out the country, though the population has increased thirty per cent., yet the number of domestics has increased only ten per cent. This was probably due to th- fact that much of the work formerly done by domestics is now done by out siders, such as bakers and others, with machinery and skilled workmen, who supply the home with al) necessaries. The domestic service of this country and that of England were compared. In England not less than one in every three girls between the ages of fifteen and twenty years is a domestic servant An Actress at Home. A London letter says : It is history' that Eden Terry was once the wife of Wat’s, the artist, and I think it is gener ally known that their living together as man and wife did not much exceed the peri d usually allotted to the honey moon. But the real reason of thiic separation is not known to the general newspaper reading public. Watts was a man of melancholy mien and manner, soar- thing of the Maltravers stripe, and he was eccentric in dress after a fashion of his own. He was very fond of fun, but that had nothing to do with the crus-of the separation. His family ob jected to his union with an actress, and at first refused to recognize or meet her. After a mouth, however, Watte succeed ed ii effecting a reconciliation, and on the occasion, anxious to do honor to his wife and to his family, he gave a dinner to his immediate relations. When Ellen retired to prepare her toilet Watts caressingly implored her to dress “so as to show herself oil' to the best advan tage ’ in the presence of his family and relatives. Imagine his horror and their consternation when Mrs. Watts made her appearance. She was dressed ala circus, in a suit of tights, glistening from head to foot with spangles. Mr. and Mrs. Watts were not home after that. Our Wheat and Corn. The report of consumption and dis fiibution of corn and wheat from sta tistical returns of the Department of Agriculture shows at 37J per cent of the last crop of corn remains in farmers’ hands, against 33 per cent on March 1. 1884. The supply in farmers’ hands last March was 512,000,000 bushels, while the remainder now is about 675,- 0)0,000. The amount shipped is a few millions less than last year. The exports equal 28,000,000 bushels, against 32,- 000,000 at the same date in 1884. The wheat reported in farmers’ hands is about 33 per cent of the cr0p—169,000,- 000 bushels, or 50,000,000 bushels more 1 ban the stock of last March, when the crop was less by 920,00,000 bushels. Tuere has been a slightly freer use of wheat for bread, and a little of the poor er quality has been fed to stock. — • ' —— " 1 How They Fleet President. A member of Sorosis says:—Perhaps the general public would like to know how Sorosis chooses her president. I will tell you: At the annual meeting, first of all the outgoing president recapitulates what the has done for the past and weeps. Next the vice-president implores the club to re-elect the president, because she had been so sick, and requests the opposing candidate to withdraw. Then the members say “Poor thing ! let’s give ;t to her another year,” and so the president is again elected, and the majority are defeated because they can’t agree on a candidate who is firm enough to resist entreaty. (Bajettc. VOL. XII. SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING. APRIL 29.1885. NO. 15. HUSBAND AND WIFE. <*ll*B the strangest thing that ever I knew, And the most provoking ’twixt me and you And a woman who’s got a man like me, A good provider, and steady and free With all her folks, with funds salted down. And as fine a house as any in town, To be lamenting ’cause one child in ten Ain’t quite as good as he might have been. “It’s a pretty good showing, it seems to mo That only a tenth of the lot should be A little off color, and that’s what I say To their mother twenty times a day. But I can’t make her see it in that light Am. she listens and waits night after night For the sound of his step, till I grow so wild That I almost curse both mother and child. “She ought to live for the others, you know, And let the tormenting vagabond go, And follow his ways and take the pain; But I turn him out and she calls him again. This makes a hardness between her and me, And the worst of it is, the children agree That I’m in the right. You’d pity her then; Such times I think I’m the meanest of men. “I’ve argued and scolded and coaxed without end; Her answer is always: ‘My boy has one friend As long as I live, and your charge is untrue That my heart holds no equal love for you And all the rest. But the one gone astray Needs me the most and you’ll find ’tis the way Os all mothers to hold close to the one Who hurts her the most. So love’s work is done.’ “Now. what can I say to such words as those? I’m not convinced, as the history shows, But I often wonder which one is right, As I hear her light step night after night, lleie and there to the window and door, As she waits with a heart that is heavy and sore. I wish the boy dead, while she gives her life To save him from ein. There’s husband and wife.” Toni Sing. A STOBY FOB YOUNG FOMA “This will never do, Tom,” said Mr. Benj .min Slug, as he read his sou’s school-report for another term. “You must really rouse up, or you’ll never make a man of yourself.” Mr. Slug had got on in the world by acting on the motto, “Labor conquers everything,” aud thus from au office-boy he had risen to the head of the firm. Justly proud of his own success, aud knowing its secret, he was very anxious his son should follow in his steps. To this end he had put him to the best schools, and given him every chance of a good educition. But the burden of every report was the same : “The lad has good natural abilities, aud would make a splendid scholar had he applica tion”—a polite way of saying that Tom was lazy. There was a picture in his bedroom of a field in a wilderness state of briers aud thorns. Part of it had been originally inclosed as a vineyard, but it was now covered with nettles, and the vines were overrun with foxes, finding ready en trance by the ruined wall. In one cor ner of the vineyard was a lodge, the latticed window showing the drowsy keeper within murmuring now and again; as he turned from side to side • “Yet a little sleep and a little slumber, then will I arise and till my field aud trim my vines.” In the dim distance, the grim, gaunt, hungry-looking figure of Poverty was seen stealthily approach ing. Tom often looked at this picture, but hitherto had not fully learned its lesson. He was a thoughtful boy in his way, aud sometimes philosophized a bit about liis lazy tendencies. Indeed, he was a philosopher in petticoats, for he would sometimes argue to himself in this way : “My name is Slug. Why, it’s the name of that slimy, gliding thing on the garden walks! Wonder if the family got its name—as Edward Long shanks got his, from his long legs— from the slowness of some member re minding people of a slug ? If so, how can I help being sluggish ?—it’s in the blood.” Ha had yet to learn that people are born into the world like colts, and need breaking-in to be of full use. The boy was quick with his eyes, however, if slow with his hands aud feet. He had picked up a great deal, in this way about beasts and birds and flies and creeping things. On this memorable afternoon he was fresh from a book about the termites or “white ants,” found in Africa, which build nests twelve feet high, some on the ground, shaped like pointed haycocks or huge mushiooms, and some in trees, shaped like sugar-casks, with a covered way to them, winding round the trunk, from the ground. There was a seriousness in his father’s tone as he begged Tom to free liimsilf from the growing slavery of indolence by one graud effort, which made him feel very miserable and disgusted with himself. In this mood he wandered I into the orchard and threw himseif ! down under a tree. It was a beanti'ul i summer evening. The slanting sunlight I barred the grass with long shafts of I green and gold. Hard by, a little i stream made music as it ran. The air was thronged w.th insects, dancing ■ away their little day in the sunset hour. Tom could not help feeling the beauty I of the scene. And some sense of sweet ness would mingle with the bitterness ■ that found vent in his tears. When i these had ceased, his eye chanced to i fall on a nest of ante, the inmates of which were very busy around him, some repairing the nest, others guaniing it and others carrying stores into it. As he watched them, the nest began to grow sensibly bigger, until it seemed as if he could walk up and down in it. Tom thought this was a splendid chance of exploring an ant-hill, and making up to the nest, was about to enter, when two of the guards rushed out, clashing their jaws so fiercely that he felt quite frightened. He was still more startled, however, when one of them asked him what he wanted. On recovering him self, he made bold to ask if he might be allowed to see over the nest The guards conversed for a moment, and then one of them went inside and pres ently returned with a kindly, motherly looking ant, who said: “The queen has been pleased to grant you your request and appointed me your guide. Please step this way.” The entrance opened into a kind of hall, which again narrowed into a lobby, having a pillar at the entrance, midway between the walls. Seeing Tom look wonderingly at this pillar, the guide told him it was to make the nest easier of defence when attacked. “You see,” she said, “a couple of ants could keep a whole army at Lay here.” Tom thought it a most skillful device. Passing through this lobby, they came to another hall, much larger than the first, with pillars here and there, to sup port the roof. “This is the grand assembly-room,” said the guide. Then she led him into another lobby, having a row of cells on each side. They mounted a staircase, and passed through a gallery, which also had rows of cells on each side. There was some thing, or somebody, in every cell. Now and again, they met a long string of ants bearing burdens. The leader of one of these—a big-jawed ant siezed Tom with his nippers as they were passing, and would have made them meet in his flesh, had not the guide signaled that he was a friend, Tom might have grown weary with his long tramp, but for some entertain ing accounts of other ant nests by tiie guide. She described one hollowed out of the branches and twigs of a thorn tree for the sake of honey hidden there; an other purse-shaped, made by gluing leaves together while on the tree; and another, stranger still, made with dried cakes of refuse, arranged like tiles on the branches of a tree, one large cake form ing the roof As they came to one cell a joyous com pany passed out, haviffg among them a large ant of very stately bearing. “The queen I the queen 1” cried the guide. “Isn’t she a right noble lady ?” Tom took note how very devoted ami attentive the ants were to their queen. Her body-guard lifted her gently over all rough places; and when the royal party met a troop of working ants, the latter divided aud saluted the former as it passed along. Turning into the cell the quean had just left they saw the floor covered with the smallest eggs Tom had ever seen They were scarcely bigger than a pin point. “But come this way,” said the guide, “and I’ll show you the nursery.” This was one of the cosiest ceils in the whole nest. Here, ranged against the walls like classes in a school, were rows upon rows of small, white, legless grubs. They looked like tiny sugar loaves, and were made up of eleven or twelve rings. Every little creature had its nurse, who was either feeding it or washing it, or just taking it out for an airing, or bring ing it in. "What in the world are these funny little things ?” asked Tom. “Why, they have come out of eggs like those you saw just now; and if spared will be fnll-grown anta some day. Now you must see the spinning room.” So saying, the guide led across a passage into another cell. Here a number of fine fat grubs were spinning gauze dresses for themselves, which were to shroud their bodies from top to toe. A few were spinning an ad ditional coat of silk to put over the }auza dress. “These are their nightgowns,” said the guide. “And the moment they are covered from head to foot they will go to sleep for a month or six weeks without waking.” Tom thought that would be nice. The spinning room led to the dormi tory. Here Tom saw what at first looked like piles of broken twigs and tiny balls of silk; but when he examined the bits of stick more closely he could trace the face and limbs of an insect through the gauze covering. They looked, for all the world, like the pictured mummies he had seen in books. The guards iu the room looked rather savagely at Tom when he entered, but a glance from the guide made all right. "You need not walk so softly. A thousand cannon, thundering over them, would not rouse them until they hal slept their sleep out. As soon as they show the least sign of waking, however, they will be taken into the next room and swathed.” To this room they now proceeded. The sight Tom saw here interested him much more than anything he had yet seen in the ant-world. The floor was strewn with mummy-like forms, and silk balls like those in the room just left; but they were stirring a little, as ii alive. Mounted on each one were :hree or four ants, who carefully assisted the inmates to unwrap themselves; then they took the limbs from their sheaths and smoothed them out; and at last the released prisoner stood up on its six legs, in all the freedom of a full-grown ant. What a change frem the little helpless worm 1 Tom examined one of these brand new anta very minutely. He found the mouth had two pairs of jaws, which moved from side to side, and not up and down, like his own. One pair of jaws were like toothed scissors, with » sharp-pointed beak. These, he learned, were to fight with. From the front of the head sprang two long-jointed things, like a thrasher's flail, but club-shaped at the end. The guide said these were the most useful things au ant had—arms, hand, and nose ail in one; and that if she lost them she was the most helpless of creatures. But what wonderful eyes I There were five of them altogether three arranged in the form of a triangle on the top of the head, and one on each aide. The two lust were very large, and seemed to be made up of hundreds of smaller eyes. Tom tried to count them, but when he had reached a thousand iu one socket alone, he gave it up. Tom also discovered that each ant had a bag in its hinder part, filled with poison, which in fighting it could spurt into the bodies of its enemies. The guide told him that one family of anta had stings as well as poison-bags. Tom had observed on the backs of some of the ants when unswathed, and just above the breathing holes, two pairs of delicate wings, while the greater num ber had none. He learned, on inquiry, that the winged insects were kings aud queens, aud those without wings, com mon workers. On reminding the guide that the queen they saw a little while ago had no wiugs, she said: “You are quite right, Master Sharp-eyes. But she once had wings, and I'll tell you how she lost them. The wiugs of the king and queen are for the wedding-trip only. The king dies, or is killed off on his re turn, while the queen strips off her wings and sets seriously to her life-work of laying eggs; and that is how she loses her wings. See I there they go for the wedding-trip!’’ Tom turned, and saw two rather ele gant-looking ants, with wings half raised, making toward the door of the nest. He and the guide followed just in time to wish them much happiness, as they flew away through the sunlight air. Tom, seeing himself at the main door again, and thinking he had trespassed quite long enough on the kindness of his ant-friend, turned to thank her, and Io send also a message of thanks to the Queen, when she exclaimed: “Oh, I have a good deal more to show you. Yon have not seen our cows yet.” "Cows, cows? Anta have cows!” ■ried Tom, in astonishment. “Yes, ants have cows; and if you will step this way you shall see them.” Tom obeyed, and they retraced their steps through one of the long corridors. As they went along they met an ant carrying a heavy burden. “What! busy yet?” said the guide, and they touched hands as they passed. “That is one of the best workers in the whole hive; she works fifteen hours a lay many a time.” Presently they came upon a little insect with a tuft of hair ?n its back, which an ant sucked, and then went away licking its lips. “That is a walking honey-pot,” said the guide. “We keep several in the nest, and when wo want a taste we suck them, as you saw that ant do just now.” Tom opened his eyes at this. But he opened them wider when he learned that there were ants who were living honey-jars, who stored up honey and gave it out as required to the other members of the community. Just then a very small ant leaped on the back of the guide and put its long spider-legs round her neck. “Stennie, Stennie, my little pet, don’t quite choke me with your hugs. You see we have pets, as well as cows and living honey-pots,” turning to Tom. They had now reached the cow-shed, connected with the main nest by a cov ered way. It was built round and over the leaves of a daisy plant which formed the stalls for the cows. Tom was looking for a large, four legged creature, and when the guide pointed out quite a herd of small, green insects, he thought she was surely pok ing fun at him. But these were the ant-cows. For by and by the milk maids came in, went up to the cows and stroked them very gently until drops of honey fell from them, which they drank. As Tom stood watching them, he remembered to have seen green in sects like these on the rose-trees and gooseberry bushes in his father's gar den, and the thought struck him that what people call honey-dew was the honey dropped by these little creatures. The guide told him, as they walked away, that there were some ante that grew their own rice and even mush ■ooms. "Dear me,” thought Tom, “ante are as clever as men.” Coming to a door tbit led into the grand hall and looking in, the guide <x claimed : “Why, the sports arc on and I did not know.” It was a merry scene. At one n.u was the queen, with all her courtiers round her, watching ths games. IL n a long double row of ants were playing at thread needle. There a com pan} was dancing; close by were several pait: wrestling and boxing; while many of tin youngsters were playing at hide-and seek all round the hall. Suddenly when the merriment was at its Light, t cry was heard : “To the pilar, to flu pillar 1 The foo, the foe! Seal the inner doors 1” The scene was changed in an instant. The queen had her bodyguard doubled, and was taken off to the royal cell, and sealed up. The keepers of the eggs, the grubs, and the mummies hurried away to their respective cells, and filled up the doorways with clay. The cow keepers did the same with the entrance to the covered way. All was excitement. When the defeases were completed, all waited the onrush of the enemy. But if proved a false alarm. Ono of the out posts had indeed seen a legion of soldier ants iu the distance, tending toward the nest. They were simply rounding a hill, however, and then made for a nest of negro anta, intent on making slaves. This was the explanation of a scout, who had been sent out to sec how the thing would turn. Tom was utterly dumfounded when he heard of ant slaves. “Do ants really make and hold slaves ?” he asked, in utter astonish ment, of his guide. “Yes, some; not all. We have no slaves, but do all our work ourselves. There is one tribe of ants, the ‘Ama zons,’ great slaveholders; but they do nothing but fight and lounge. They are very brave in war, however, and never take or kill the up-grown ants of a nest, except these try to hinder them from carrying off their young, which they want to bring up and make into slaves. But they have to pay dearly for their laziness.” Tom winced. “They are called the ‘Workers;’ but they are just the opposite when not fighting. They neither feed nor clean themselves nor their young ones. All this is done for them by slaves, who actually have to carry them on their backs when they go to a new settle ment. In fact they have lost the power of doing anything for themselves through having everj thing done for them and not using the power they had. Their jaws have lost their teeth, and are now simply nippers with which they kill their foes. And all this results from in dolence.” Tom winced again. Was she pointing at him ? “But," she went on, “I know another tribe, the Roundjaws, who have become more helpless still in the same way. They are even losing their nipping power; and if it were not for their slaves, who carry them to the field and then fight by their side, they would never win a battle. There is one other tribe which sloth has plunged into yet deeper depths of degradation, the Worn outs. They are the mere puppet mas ters of their slaves, who have become the real masters. Laziness is a terrible curse; it can blight the finest powers.” The speaker’s thousand eyes flashed fire as she spoke these words, and made Tom tremble. Ho shuddered at the picture of the anta on whom the curse of idleness had fallen. It made him think of the pic ture In his bedroom. Did he really see what his future might be—and would be, did he not change—in these pic tures ? And ho groaned aloud, in an guish of heart, at the thought. “Tom, Tom, rouse up, my boy! You will get your death of cold sleeping like that in the grass. Come in and get some warm supper. ” This was Tom’s father, who had been seeking him, high and low, for some time, and had found him at last, fast asleep in the orchard. Tom’s adventure in an ant-hill was a dream; yet not all a dream, passing away with his waking thoughts, like the morning cloud. The last words of his guide rang through his mind for many a day: “Laziness is a terrible curse and can blight the finest powers.” It was the turning-point in his life, which suf fered as great a change as that which turned the white, legless grub, iu his dream, into a light airy insect. It was a new birth. A few months later he went to busiress, and soon won a char j ncter for patient industry which he kept I throughout his life. Keeping the Pledge. “In early life,” says “Camp-meeting” John Allen, “I used to drink. But sixty years ago I signed a pledge. That one, though, I didn’t exactly keep. It was a pledge of my own, and after I signed it I hid it away In a drawer; , didn’t let anybody know I had signed it. | Afterward when I was with some friends who wanted me to drink 1 took a little, ! and spoilt my pledge. So I went right home and rubbed out the date,'and just I changed that over. Then I signed a society pledge and never drank liquor as a beverage afterward. Fifty-five years ago I throwed out tobacco, and haven’t touched a particle as big as a mouse’s ear since.” Learning.—A Texas paper feelingly lemarks: A man’s education is not com plete until he runs a newspaper for a while. Then he learns a great deal that he did not know before. THE LIME-KILN CLUB. Willies OF WISDOM FROM PARA DISE HA1.1.. An IntcrevllnK Discourse ou Man nnO His Nature. “Feller mortals,” said the lecturer, as he gulped down a glass of water, and cautiously looked at the three shirt buttons in the bottom of the glass, “dis human natur’ of ours am a strange muddle. We kin feel de sentiment of hate, love, indifference, sentiment, ad miration, fear, reverence an’ disgust in one short day. We attain de highest eminence, an’ we sink to the lowest slums. We reverence one man an’ hate another. We feel hilarious one hour an’ shed tears of sorrow the next. Stranger dan all de winds dat blow— more valuable dan any weather fur nished by natur’—bold an’ fearless— weak an’ vascilatin’—human natur’ can be praised an’ condemned in de same breaf. “If we studied de natur’ of man as clusly as we do dat of a boss we would not tread on his co’ns so often. Man am as pliable as ’lasses if you take him right. If you take him wrong ho am as brittle as glass an’ as hard as stun. Dat am a matter we seldom stop to con sider. We take him as pleases us—not to please him. Our ideah is dat he mus’ put up wid our style—not to bring us to his. I has seen dozens of men who war’ bo’n all right spilt by contact wid de world. Nobody took ’em jist right, an’ dey wouldn’t study to take odder men right. “Some men kin be bossed—some has to be coaxed. Some am naterally mulish —some plastic. Some kin be reached frew deir weaknesses —some frew deir strength. A modest man an’ a proud, vain man mus’ be handled on teetotally different principles. We make enemies and meet wid needless rebuffs an’ re fusals bekase we fail to consider dese troofs. If our boss has a habit of bitin’ we lay awake nights to devise some remedy fur it. If our naybur am a nateral kicker we ridicule his grievances an’ burlesque his tribulashuns. If our hoss am too high-strung to take de whip we are keerful to keep de lash away from him. If our naybur am too proud-spirited to borror our wheelbarrel au’ lend us his washboa’d we declar him beneath our notis an’ wash our hands of de hull fam’ly. “It am de easiest thing in de world to make a friend. Fust, locate your man. Second, size him up. If he am a vain, proud man praise his personal appear ance, his home—his wife, chill’en an’ speeches. No man am so poo’ an’ lowly dat his words of praise won’t soun’ sweet to an egotist. "If he am a cross, surly, out-o’-sorte chap, feelin’ sartin in his own mind dal de world wasn’t built on correct princi ples, doan’ try to argy wid him to con vince him dat dis airth am all O. K. from collar to garret. On de contrary, side jin r wid him. Growl at de world, abuse mankind, an’ tell him how sorry you am dat he wasn’t on han’ to manage things about 200 y’ars B. C. It will be like doin’ up a sore toe in a greased rag. “When you meet a man who am sort o’ sneakin’ frew life on de quiet—nebbar heard of outside of his own nayburhood —modest, unassumin’, an’ only wantin’ to be let alone, feed him gum-drops. Tell him you have heard his name men shuned as candidate for aiderman. Ask what y’ar it was when lie run fur de Legislachur. Inqnar’ when his next book of poems am to be published. Ax him if he am de Smith who Invented de comet. He will cringe and wince, but he will go home an’ think ii ober an’ be youi friend fur life. “Dar’ am cranks to be humored. Dar am eccentrics to be praised. Dar’ am circlin’ ’round us day by day a chain of men an’ women who doan’ know beans from broomsticks, but who mus’ be com plimented on deir exquisite tastes an’ high order of intelleck. “As de- time allotted to me has ’bout expired, let me say to you, in closin’ dis discourse, dat de man who makes ene mies am no reader of human natur’. It am jist as easy to make ten good friends as one enemy. Abuse no man’s poly tics. blur no man’s religion. Hold no argyments wid a man who has been soured by misfortunes. As fur women —treat ail alike by praisin’ all. My frens,” said Brother Gardner as he made ready to close the meeting, “study human natur’. Begin to-night. Begin by givin’ de gineral public half de side walk on your way homo, an’ keep it up by promisin’ de cle woman a new p’ar of shoes if you find her in de sulks. Let us now circulate. ’ Killed by His Own Gun. Seth Hoover, of Hanging Rock, Pa., came in from duck shooting on Tues day. He laid his gun on a bed in his kitchen. “Why don’t you bang your gun up where it belongs ?” said his wife. “What’s to hinder you hanging it up yourself,” said Hoover. He was stand ing opposite the bed combing his hair. Mrs. Hoover took hold of the gun, and iu drawing it off the bed the hammer caught in the bed clothes in some way aud was raised. When released it fell and the gnu was discharged. The load struck Hoover under the arm, killing him instantly. THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. WHAT WE FIND IN THEM THIS WEEK TO SMILE OVER. Not in his OlUce-A Street Romance—lnno cent Childhood-Fun Iu Ronton, Etc. THE SEASONS. 1. The winter’s almost past, the time is coming fast that brings the genial sunshine bright and clear, clear, clear, and paragraphers gay will shortly put away the sealskin joke until another year, year, year. 2. The coal man and the plumber, all through the coming summer, will be allowed to take a well-earned rest, rest, rest, and, springing from its tomb, the ice cream joke will boom in new and handsome garments gayly dressed, dressed, dressed. 3. The picnic sandwich, too, exist ence will renew, and jokers on its make up will descant, cant, cant, declaring it is made of neither ham nor bread, but from the hardest kind of adamant, mant, mant. 4. Then, both in prose and verse, the jokers will rehearse the tale anent the lovers who till late, late, late, sit on the stoop and spoon, or 'neath the silver moon together swing upon the garden gate, gate, gate. 5. But this is merely done for pur poses of fun, intended as a little harm less chaff, chaff, chaff—no malice in the play—to drive dull care away, and make the melancholy person laugh, laugh, laugh.— Boston Courier. a mother’s poem on baby. A young mother sends us a poem upon “Baby.” It is certainly a gem. The only fault we have to find with it is that of sacrificing melody to hard sense. The third stanza is a striking instance of this: Doxery doodle-um dinkle-um dum, Turn to its mozzery muzzery mum; Tizzery, izzery, boozery boo, No baby bo sweet aud bo pitty as ’oo. Upton yews. A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK. “I don’t feel very well this morning,” complained Smith; “that baby of mine kept me walking with him most of the night." “He must be a chip of the old block,” ventured Brown. “How’s that?” “He lets the other fellow walk.” HE MOVED. A Detroit gentleman went to his front door one fine afternoon to inhale the balmy air of spring. To him a casual passer-by remarked : "I'll bet you two dollars, Mister, that you’ll move before night.” "You are an impudent fellow,” replied the gentleman, “but I’ll take your bet. Why do you think lam go ing to move?” “Because, Mister, your house is afire.” INNOCENT CHILDHOOD. Fond mother—What a dear, sweet little fellow Bobby is 1 He asked me last night if he were to die and go to heaven if I thought God would let him play with the stars. Father (turning his boot upside down and shaking it violently)—Now, who put that tooth brush and powder in there ? Fond mother (resignedly)—Oh, I sup pose it was Bobby.— N. K Times. NEVEB SUBE ANY MOBE. A certain official has an old co) >red man in his office who builds fires, sweeps out and holds the fort while the official goes out to “ see a man,’ or on other business. The other day a visitor met the old darkey on the street. “Sam,” he called to him, “is Mr. X. in his office ?” “Yes, sab; leas’ ways he war when I come away.” “Well, I’ve got to go up to the next square; do you think he’ll be there when I get back ?” “I don’t know ’bout dat, sab. Yo’ see, boss, hits a gittin’ mighty nigh on ter de time when yo’ can’t fin’ no ’Pub licans in dar offices, an’ Ise a little shaky ebery time I leabes do boss dat when I come back dar’ll be some Dimo crat er uddah settin’ in his cheer, jis ez if he owned the whole shebang. Yo’ bettah go now, sah, au’ be sho’ uv ’im.” —Merchant Traveler. NOT A DIBECT BEFEIIENOE. Dnmley (to landlady)—Dr. B. was asking after you to-day, Mrs. Hen dricks. Mrs. Hendricks—Thanks ; the doctor is very kind. Dumley—He boarded with you at one time, did he not ? Mrs. Hendricks—He took table board only for a little while, but he found the location rather inconvenient. Did he refer to boarding with me? Dumley—No, not directly. He gave me a prescription, and, when I asked him if I should take it before or after meals, he said it wouldn’t make the slirhtest difference. ONLY AN ORANGE BLOSSOM. A young lady residing in Phenix re ceived from a friend traveling in Florida a box filled with orange blossoms and leaves, which were as fresh as when gathered. They came by mail, packed in cotton. A sarcastic gentleman, on viewing them, said : “I thought when girls had bouquets of orange blossoms around there was always a man in a full dress suit and bridemaids and a clergy man; but you don’t seem to have these needed accessories.” "The person who sent the blossoms omitted to send a bridegroom,” quickly replied the girl; “but I’ll write and ask him to send an alligator; that will have more brains than some men I’ve seen.”— Providence Journal. SOUND AND SENSE. “Who is that new mm that opened a wood yard or something on Second street and bought a bill of goods of us last Saturday?” asked old Hyson; “I’ve lost his card and forgotten his name.” “I don’t know,” replied the office boy. “Well,” said the old man, “I hate to ask him. Run down to the corner and see what is on his sign; that’ll give it.” Presently ‘he boy came back. “Lime and coal,” he said. And old Hyson calmly charged the bill up to Lyman Cole.— Burdette,