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THE SEW CENSUS. How the Census Will be Taken and What It Will Probably Show. The work of taking the Slate census of 1885 will begin May 1. It will be divided into three periols. The enu meration of the population w.ll be com menced promptly on May Day, the enumerators going a-Miyhig in search of statistics. On the 15th of Jaly the collection of statistics relative to manu factures will begin, and in November the census of agriculture will be taken. Both personal enumeration and the dis tribution of blanks will be resorted to at different stages of the work. By thus dividing ap the work two desirable results are secured—greater accuracy and prompt tabulation of data. The office force, trained by the tabulation of people, will be ready in July to labor the more rapidly, because the more understand ingly, on the statistics of manufacture, in which they will Svqdiie the experi ence qualifying for the rapid handling of the collected results of the third and final division of the census. By taking the statistics of agriculture in November the data relating to the crops harvested in the coming autumn will be secured. The State census coming midway be tween Federal censuses enables Massa chusetts to maintain a closer knowledge of its growth and development than is possible with many other States. Thus the United States took censuses in 1870 and 1880, while Massachusetts enumer ated her people and recorded her manu facturers and agriculture with their out comes in 1875, and is now getting ready for doing the same this year. Our census of 1885 will thus come half-way between the Federal census of 1880 and that which the United States will take in 1890. Col. Wright says the census of this year will show Massachu setts to have a population of from 2,000,000 to 2,030,000 souls. In 1875 the State census showed 1,651,919 in habitants, and five years later the Fed eral enumerators found 1,783,085 people residing in the old Commonwealth. It will thus l»e seen that the State’s popu lation is growing steadily and at a healthy rate of increase. Assuming that the actual enumeration this year shows a population of 2,000,000, the gain in ten years will bo about 348,000. The increase c r 1880 will be nearly 217,- 000. The percentage of gain over 1875 will be about 21 per cent, and rather more than 12 j»er cent, over 1880. Mas sachusetts is the only one of the New England States showing such a gain, and she secures it at the expense of the others. Massachusetts draws on Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont for her increase, the tendency of emigration in the two States south of us being toward New York.— Boston Transcript. —-SB - ■ - Amci ico-Russian Privateers. The San Francisco Examiner says:— it isrumorel that a geuleman connected with a prominent bank in Ban Francisco has approached the Russian Consul in regard to fitting out privateers in case of war with England. He is said to rep resent capitalists who have already selected three first-cless steamships now in the harlior. The initter is kept very quiet, as it is evident that the idea is such a good one that it should be con cealed from any one else who might pro fit by it. Americans are, of course, engaged in the enterprise, and it is quiet authoritatively stated that crews have been chosen who consist of Americans and Irish. “How are you going to get your ar mament on your ships ?” asked a re porter of an interested party. “We can ship them as ballast and swing them into position outside." “And in this you will not violate in ternation law ?” “We are advised that a vessel may take out any cargo she pleases, whether it be composed of cannons or wheat.” “Which Government is Hable to get the service of the privateers yen refer to?” ‘ The Russian Government, of course. Privateers could make no money in the English service, because the Russians have no shipping in these waters of any consequence. Oa the other hand, the seas are covered with the ships of her Brdanuie Majesty." — A Veteran. In a field on the Gardiner Smith farm, near the road between Ellenville and Kingston, says the Utica Herald, is a chestnut tree which is both a natural curiosity and an ancient landmark. The trunk is eight feet in diameter. Four feet from the ground a white elm tree a foot in diameter projects from the trunk. It is supposed that there was once a cav ity or depression in the side of the chest nut tree, which became filled with de cayed vegetable matter, into which a seed from an elm had lodged, and from which sprang the present elm. The latter has spreading branches, which mingle their foliage with that of the chestnut every year. Both trees are sound. The chestnut was an important landmark in the ancient Indian trail leading from Esopus to the Delaware Water Gap, down the Neversink and Delaware valleys. It is mentioned in many old legal documents of Ulster county. The tree is about 600 years old. _ T The Egyptian Soldiers. The letters appearing in the English journals relate that the Egyptians, whose courage has been so often doubted, fought like lions on board those armed river steamers on the Nile; in fact, they never broke down save once, and that was when they heard of the fall and sack of Khartoum. Then their hearts sank, and even Kashu-el- Mur and his officers prostrated them selves on the deck and wept like chil dren. In the disastrous retreat from Gakdui to Korti the wounded owed their safet> to the Egyptian soldiers, who carried them every step of that weary way with a patience, tenderness and fidelity which secured Lord Wolse ley’s praise. £ljc Summerville (©alette. VOL. XII. THE FUTURE YEARS. In all the future years, my sweet (Now roses blossom at tby feet, And time flics by with footsteps fleet) — But in the future years, What lives for ns, or joy or grief ? A happiness beyond belief, Bright smiles or bitter tears ? In all the future years, my own, Shall one of us be left alone, Missing the other’s loving tone, Throughout the future years? Or shall we be together, where Together we may gladly share Each other’s hoped and fears ? The future years—ah ! who can say Which of us two will pass away From earthly hope and love for aye, From all that Faith endears ? I only breathe a pray’r for thee That where I am, there thou may’st be Thro’ all the future years ’ Cecil Lorraine. A. Love Story. The Reverend Dr. Melton was just be ginning to feel at home in bis new par sonage when he was surprised one even ing to receive a call from his classmate Harvey Leigh. In college days they had been friends, and for a while after their graduation they hail exchanged letters and visits; but the letters and visits had come to an end long ago, and it was many years since they had met. After some conversation on general matters. Dr. Melton said: “You have a son. I believe, to per v-tuate the name ?” 'One son—an only child. Morton is twenty-four, and reading law in my of fice. A bright fellow, too; never gives me a moment’s uneasiness; always at work; steady-going; no boyish nonsense about him.” “And when is your boy to marry?” asked the doclor. “Oh, it is not quite arranged yet.” “So you arrange marriages in Phila delphia? And this particular marriage is not quite arranged ? Humph I I don’t understand that sort of thing. Up in the country it is, ‘Mary, I love yon,’ and ‘Jack, I love you in return,’ and then my services are called for. How dees one arrange a marriage in Philadel phia ?” The touch of sarcasm was quite lost on Mr. Leigh, who had crossed his legs, and sat absorbed in thought, frowning at the patent-leather tip of his neat shoo. His hoot watched him until he uncrossed his legs and looked up. “Have you any daughters, doctor ?” he asked. “Two of them.” “Grown up ?” “I hope so; otherwise they will tower over my head.” “And do yon understand them?” asked Mr. Leigh, with a gravity that made the parson’s blue eyes twinkle and the corner of his mouth twitch. " Oh, no, I don’t understand them ; I don’t understand any creature in petti coats ; but my daughters are good girls, and their mother assures me that they are remarkably gifted. What do I want to understand them for ?” "It might be an advantage under some circumstances,” Mr. Leigh re marked. “What is the matter? What girl do you think it might lie an advantage to understand ?” “My ward,” answered Mr. Leigh. " She is an orphan, a far away cousin of my wife, and she has lived with us for the past five years. She has a nice little fortune; she is pretty ; she is well, bred ” “ That goes without saying,” muttered the parson, stroking his long beard. “ But she hasn't a grain of common sense. ” Mr. Leigh rose, took up a posi tion on the rug, slipped his left hand under the short tails of his cut-away coat, and gesticulated with his right as he warmed to the story. “ Last sum mer,” he began, “she was twenty-one, and just out of school. She went to Cape May with the Phippards, people in whom I placed the utmost confidence. I thought she was safe with them ; but lo and behold 1 she must make the acquaintance of a young gentleman who held the responsible position of book keeper in one of our large hardware shops, a retail concern, and he has sold many a paper of tacks over the counter. I was in Europe; so this interesting tack-seller ran down to Cape May every Sunday, and staid until Monday. Then he had a clerk’s two weeks’ vacation, and he spent that at Cape May. I came back in October, and before I had been home twenty-four hours who should call at the house but this young man ? He wanted to see me, and I saw him, and was informed by him that he had wooed and won my ward. I asked if he pro posed to take her to live over the shop.” Mr. Leigh’s thin lips curled down ward; he glanced at the parson for sym pathy,- bat he encountered a steady, somewhat critical look. Dr. Melton took the pipe out of his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke upward through his mustache. “Why shouldn’t they live over the shop?” he said. “Ob, you don’t understand,” Mr. Leigh exclaimed, fretfully. “She has been brought up in luxury, and she ought so have some idea of what is proper and fitting. There has been a terrible time. Why, I assure you I have had the sympathy of all Philadel phia. This hardware man had the SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY EVENING. JUI3 10,1885. effrontery to say that ho had money enough to take o.iro of a wife, just as though he had never thought of my ward’s little fortune. He begged mo to go and see his exployers—people I never dreamt of—and I told him that I did not want their recommendations; I did not propose to hire a bookkeeper. He was insolent, and I ordered him out. Then she blazed away at me, the weak, infatuated girl. I tried to reason with her; my wife talked to her; my son— Well, you see, my son wanted to marry her too, and he would have made just the husband for her, but she told him if he spoke to her she would ask her hard ware man to protect her. Think of it 1 As though Morton would insult her— the best-mannered man that ever lived.” Mr. Leigh had grown excited. His cigar had gone out, and he relighted it, drawing at it fiercely until the end burned bright like a bit of coal. “And Morton is very fond of her,” he continued—“so fond of her, in fact, that he is waiting like a hero for this to blow over. I think the farce is nearly ended, for the hardware man became partner the other day in a nail factory or something of that sort, and a week ago he sailed for Europe. He will have to stay a year, traveling for his firm, and when he comes back—” Mr. Leigh broke off to smile astutely and to drop the lid over his left eye. “I don’t exactly understand your ob jections to him,” said Dr. Melton, slowly. “Does he drink, or keep low company ?” “No,” answered Mr. Leigh; “but—’> “I beg your panion,” said the doc tor, interrupting him, “but I want to speak in his behalf. Ha must be indus trious, and no fool, and prospering, or he would not have jumped into thia new position. I confess I don’t think you have made out a clear case. Os course you want to see your son happy; but if she does not love your son that ends the matter. And if she does love this other man, and he is honest and upright, why should he not have her ?” “He is not hex equal,” said Mr. Leigh. “You know in Philadelphia—” The parson rose np with a stifled ex clamation that, coming from a layman’s lips, might have sounded profane. “It is warmrin here,” he said. "I want a little fresh air; I am not used to a furnace-heated house. Poor girl 1 The city has not yet claimed mo for its own, and I miss the fire-place in my old study. Poor fellow 1” He threw up the window and looked out on a wide expanse of tiny high fenced back yards; but overhead was the clear sea of sky, whore the moon rode at anchor amid the fleet of stars. He stood there drawing in the crisp Decem ber air, until a tap sounded on the door. “Come in,” he cried, and one of his daughters entered—a tall, slim girl with tier father’s blue eyes. “Papa,” she said, pressing close to him and smiling mysteriously, “there arc some people in the parlor.” “Drawing-room, my dear,” said the doctor. “We are in Philadelphia.” “We are not, but no matter," she re- I turned. “I tell you there are some peo ple in the parlor, and I think it is our first town wedding. She is very pretty, and she has on the loveliest little bonnet you ever saw. Go marry ’em quick, and let me be a witness, only they have two •vitnesses with them.” He passed his arm about her and cissed her, she did not know why; then led her to his guest. “M Hie, this is a clnsfmxte of mine. My daughter, Mr. Leigh—Mr. Harvey Leigh, of Puiladelphia. You must ex <nse me for a few minutes." He went into the adjoining parlor. Yes, it was a wedding party, no doubt, out the wonld-lie bride and groom did .iot look like the brides and grooms that seek out a parson in such a fashion. The man was a gentleman, with a fine face and dignified bearing. The girl was pretty, but more than that, she had an air of courage, of self-reliance; she was not a weak piece of pink and white flesh. An older couple was with them, a somewhat, frightened middle-aged man nud a very nervous middle-aged woman, evidently his wife, for she clung to his arm helplessly. “I am William Dunbar,” said the young man. The parson shook hands with him. “And this,” he added, turn ing to the young lady, “is Miss Kate ferry. We ire both of age—in fact, I am thirty-three—and I hope you will :.e good enough to marry us.” Mr. Dunbar was very much in earnest, but he smiled a little. “Our marriage is sudden,” he added, "because I must rail for Europe to-morrow, and I want to take my wife with me. ” The parson looked at him, then at the girl. Her eyes met his steadily, though a faint flush stole into her cheeks. “Where fs your home ?” he asked. “I have none,” she answered. "I have neither father nor mother. I have been living in Philadelphia with my guardian.” The words were spoken softly, but her eyes flashed. “I am free to do as I please,” she went on. “My guardian has no right to dictate any longer.” “Hum 1” said Dr. Melton, passing his hand over his beard. “And you are from Philadelphia, too?” he added, turning to Mr. Dunbar. “I am,” was the curt response. “Your name sounds familiar,” said the parson. "Could I have seen it the other day in a list of passengers for Europe ?” He scanned the faces before him. The man’s jaws clicked, the girl’s flush deepened into crimson. “We are free to marry,” said Mr. Dunbar. “There is no reason why we should not be man and wife. If you won’t perform the ceremony, I shall find some one who is willing. Wo have with us my uncle and aunt; but there is no use in wasting words. Will you marry us?" "Yes,” said the parson. Then he asked a few formal questions, and mar ried them according to the ritual of the Dutch Church. He begged them to be seated for a minute, while he filled out the certificate. This made it necessary for him to return to the study. “A runnaway country couple?” said Mr. Leigh. “I can’t swear to the country part,” the parson answered, as he drew a certi ficate out of his desk. "I wonder you are willing to perform the ceremony,” Mr. Leigh remarked. "1 should think 'it was a great risk to marry runaway couples.” “The risk is greater without it,” said the person. “If I don’t tie the knot someliody else will, and it is generally a satisfaction to one to know that the knot is tied. In this case, however, J am quite sure lam doing right. Loyou believe in physiognomy ?” “To a certain extent, yes." “Well, so do I, and I am confident that 1 have just married a sweet girl to • man who is worthy of her.” He went back to the parlor with the certificate, taking pen and ink, so tha the witnesses might sign their names. Mr. Dun bur shook him by the hand, leaving u note in his palm. The bride smiled shyly upon him, and the elderly woman bowed; but the elderly man, who so far had not spoken a word, said, suddenly, “I tell you, sir, that you will never regret having helped this mar riage.” "I don’t believe I could have help d it,” said the parson, with a droll glance at the new-made husband. “I might have been the means of deferring it, but Mr. Dunbar intends to take his wife to Europe in spite of n dozen tyrannical guardians and dozen more reluctant clergymen.—God bless you and make you happy 1” he added, taking the young wife’s hand. Her eyes filled with tours, but hei husband drew her hand through his arm and led her away. Two carriages were waiting outside. One went to the north, the other to the south; but the parson watched the one that went to the south, for in that sat a man and woman whom he believed he had made happy for life, so far as wedded bliss brings happiness. Ho returned to the study, gave the wedding fee to his daughter, who bore it off in triumph to her mother, and then be refilled his pipe. * ‘Does this sort of thing happen often?” I said Mr. Leigh. “Not precisely this sort of thing. The bride and groom were not girl and boy; neither did they lielong to what you would call the common class. By-the way, it was a I’hiladolphia’party, a Wil liam Dunbar—” Mr. Leigh started from tho chair “ DunbarJ” he repeated. “ And the , girl?” “ Kate Perry—Katherine, rather.” Mr Leigh stared at him vacantly. “My ward I” he cried, in sudden anger. “And after all I told you 1 Why didn’t yon •all me in there ?” “ How was I to know that?” said Dr. Melton. “ You never mentioned the name of your ward or lover. You simply 1 ealled him the hardware man.” Mr. Leigh walked out of the library, took his hat and stick, struggled into his overcoat, and left the house without j vouchsafing another word to his host. The parson showed him out, and looked at him walking swiftly down the moon lit street. When he went to his study again he bail by no means the craven air of a man who has done a dastardly deed. On the contrary, he laughed out right as he sat down at his desk, where on lay the notes of his sermon.—Har per's Weekly. Bible Chronology. Jne of the standing difficulties of Bible chronology has been cleared up in a very remarkable manner. Amid } the ruins of the Chaldean Record Office, which formed part of the Temple, a number of tablets were found. On ex amination it was discovered that they were the contracts of a mercantile firm extending over generations. It was found that every document was dated and bore the month, year and day of the reigning sovereign. By this strange order of destiny a complete chronology has been formulated of the kings from Nebuchadnezzar to Darius Hydaspes, hitherto a most perplexing period to Biblical critics. No Price.— The divorce market in j Indianapolis is thus summarized by a local journal: “Brisk competition among our local lawyers has brought down the prices of divorces. We quote: Common separation, sls; small alimony, $25; large alimony, SSO to SIOO, accord ng to circumstances.” FOR SUNDAY READING. A LKSSON FOR THE MUNDAY SCHOOL “Obedience.”—KplioMiiWß; vl., I—l 3. Paul wrote a great deal of “doctrine” in his epistles, but he also makes his let ters very “practical.” Men will hardly live the right lives unless they are in structed in theological truth and made to understand their relations to God, out of which their duties flow. On the other hand, theological beliefs are good for nothing, except they influence every day life. A theology which bears no fruit in better acts is a barren tree. Obedience “in the Lord” ir tn obe dience which comes from the rule of the spirit of the Lord in the heart. The spirit of Christ in the breast will beget filial obedience. On the other hand, it will, of course, insure obedience only to such commands as are “in the Lord” or consonant with religious duty. When a parent commands something directly contrary to what the Lord commands, the spirit of the Lord will prompt a re fusal to comply with the evil command. The spirit of the Lord will impel us to obey Christ first, parents next. Again to obey parents who are “in the Lord”—i. e., Christian parents—is pe culiarly a duty; for their commands must be supposed to be good and ben eficial. The command to honor parents is ex alted by having a promise attached to it. By a promise for obedience, or a threat ening for the disobedient, an injunction is emphasized. The sanction of a re ward and penalty shows that God is especially desirous that the command shall bo obeyed. On the other hand, parents must have duo regard for their children. Children have rights; and, unless parents regard the rights of children, it may be difficult to lead the children to perform their duty toward their parents. If parents speak to children in anger, the chil dren will bo prompted to have angry feelings in return. The discipline and admonition given by parents must be given in tho spirit of the Lord, if it is expected that tho children will receive it in that spirit. Only as our admoni tions are administered in the right spirit can we expect that they will be received in the right spirit. The “servants” addressed were slaves, and their condition was, in some re spects, worse than the slavery which formerly disgraced our land. Many of them were captives in war, or had been sold for debt, and, being persons of re finement, could feel deeply the sadness of their condition, while the law gave them no protection whatever, but a cruel master could even put them to death. The injunction of obedience does not imply that their slavery was just; for a mother, writing to her son in prison, though she believed him perfectly inno cent and his imprisonment entirely un just, might counsel him to obey the rules cf the prison, to do submissively the hard tasks assigned him, and to treat respectfully the most abusive of his keepers. The apostle deals with slavery simply as a fact, saying nothing os to its rightfulness. But he takes away the darkness of their wretched condition by reminding them that their service to an earthly master may be service to Jesus. As he says in the parallel passage in Colos sians iii. 24: “Ye serve the Lord Christ.” The faithful servant of a heathen official might secure an apostle’s release from prison, and thus secure for the Gospel s wider extension. By cheerful endur ance of oppression, he might show to a cruel master that there was a reality in religion, and so win that master and others to Christ. The circumstances of his bondage might enable a disciple to do a work for Christ which no other one could do. So he could bear his slavery for Christ’s sake, and could even rejoice in the hard lot which enabled him to do a work for the one who had redeemed him. The revelation that service to an earthly master is service to Christ, gives an entirely different character to that bondage. The slave is emancipated, not by breaking his chain, but by enabling him to wear the chain joyfully. The principle laid down is one of gen eral application. Nearly every person has much heavy labor and dreary toil to perform. The factory laborer, the burdened housekeeper, the school teacher, and even the well-to-do busi ness man is bound down to a daily routine which often becomes burden some and tedious. But, in whatever position we are placed, we can do some thing for Christ; nay, each position gives opportunity to do something for him which could not be done under any other jircumstances. Therefore, we may thank God that he has placed ns in these circumstances; for, bad as they are in themselves, they are glorious in the op portunities they furnish us to do work for Christ. The “finally” has the sense of, “for the rest”— i. e., to lay down a rule which will cover any case which may arise. He who is “strong in the Lord,” girded . with the Saviour's mighty power, .s i ready for anything which may come. The Christian life is rightly termed a warfare, and the enemies are not the less . to be feared because they are not pal pable. The price of spiritual liberty is ■ eternal vigilance against evil passions and powers of sin. NO. 21. MODELS FOR BLACK SILK DRESSES. Some of <ho New Styles that are to be Worn thia Spring, A handsome dress that will serve as a model for other black silk dresses is of black Sicilienne, with the front and side breadths falling quite plain, like panels, while on each side is a deep pleated fan with narrow jetted gallons run on the edge of each pleat; wider galloon bor. ders the panels. Above this is a short crossed drapery of the Sicilienne, while the back hangs long and straight to the foot The basque is pointed, short, and without pleats; a V of the wide gallons trims it in front and back, and a large bow with sash ends falls on the tournure, being set on the back just below the waist line. A more elegant black dress is of Bengaline, with velvet for the vest, and a single deep fall of black bison lace gathered under the short front and side drapery, and covering the foundation skirt Tho basque has a narrow vest, all in one piece of velvet, with a row of jet buttons each side, and laced across with silk cord. The high collar has vel vet in front of it the width of the top of the vest, and the velvet cuff has lace laid in folds above it The Bengaline drapery is a twisted scarf above the deep lace fall in front, while the back is in two pointed wings that have three wide pleated flounces between. Other black drosses combine watered silk with a Bengaline over-dress, using it for the front of the skirt entirely, or else with merely a front and back breadth. For summer there are very pretty dresses of black surah, with a fan apron edged with wide lace, and some ruffles of lace or of surah at the foot, or else the skirt and over-skirt are made of strips of satin and moire, while the basque is of plain surah; the latter Is an economical dress, as it does not require lace for trimming. Very rich black dresses for summer are made of China crape em broidered or brocaded for the skirt, while the over-dress is made of lace, either entirely of piece lace or else of lace flounces formed into lengthwise stripes that alternate with bands of plain crape or of watered silk. These crape and lace dresses take the place of the brocaded grenadines formerly used, while beaded grenadine is now employed as parts of combination black dresses. The beaded grenedine basque and front breadths are preferred to the velvet figured grenedines of last year, and these dresses usually have a mantle of the same to go with them. Thought He Was Wanted. A practiced detective can frequently discern at a glance that a man is a rogue. The stamp of dishonesty on his features, or his anxiety on being ob served, tells the story. A remarkable illustration of this fact was narrated by the Boston correspondent of the Hing ham Journal a year [or two ago. The detective was Constable Derastns Clapp, the successor of “Old Reed,” a famous rogue-catcher of Boston half a century ago, who was for forty years the terror of evil-doers in aud about the New Eng land metropolis. Clapp was a shrewd man and a most excellent judge of human nature. He could tell a rogue as far off as he could tell a black man, and he never made mistakes. His “come along with me” was imperative and admitted of no argu ment. An instance of his readiness in read ing character occurred one morning in the upper criminal court A case of considerable interest was being tried, and the gallery was crowded with spec tators. Two or three reporters were sitting near the door, when Clapp stooping over, whispered: “Don’t all look at once, but please observe that nice-looking man with the white cravat, in the front middle seat of the gallery. We looked. “Now,” says Clapp, “I’ll bet that I can sot that man traveling out of the court house on the double-quick in less than five minutes nor will I leave the room or send him any message, ” While we were wondering how the feat was to be accomplished, the veteran quietly beckoned to Officer Tallant, and taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, directed that officer’s attention to the party in the gallery, and appar ently gave him some directions. Tallant opened the door and stepped, into the entry, and at the same instant the gentleman with the white cravat bolted like lightning through the crowd to the door, and disappeared. “Gentleman,” remarked Clapp, “I never saw that man before in my life. It illustrates the scriptural saying. ‘The wicked flee when no man pureueth.7’ The annual report of tho Ohio Ag i cultural Experiment Station urges Lie preservation and maintenance of foresis, and says this concerning woodlands: “The first step should be to remove all worthless varieties, and to encourage the valuable sorts to take their place. Stock should not be allowed to run in wood lots for purpose of forage; there should be a careful guard against fire: seeds should be planted in vacant places 1 of such varieties as are most desirable; 1 shoots of inferior varieties should be kept down, aud valuable sorts should be trimmed up, so that they may grow 1 tall, forming trunk rather t-tan ■ branches. ” JOKES FOUNDV'I hi Honors n(> < OI.C.HNH of wg A Trnmp who I' 1 {ll ww h »> okc, EATING GBASS. It was one oi'those 1, cold nights that the oldest settler a! waj members and insists on bringing u, v._ien any thing is said about the esb- " mer cury to hide itself in th.: '■ ' "’.?_! the wind whistled an ai: from V ;ae as it tore through the trees. Yet out the cold night, before a cottage do r, -'food a trembling figure. He softly knocked, and in a moment the door wae opened , and a kind face appeared, while a ger.is woman’s voice asked: “What is i-t, ihy poor man?” “Madam,” said thefigure, “all I ask is to brush away the snow here in front of the house and eat sonje of the grass.” “No, my poor man;" answered the gentle voice. “Though I am a woman I still heve a b-» Jt. Do not eat that grass. Go ron? |to tho back of the cottage and you will ,ti d some that is much more nourishing. ” And the kind form disappeared, th door was closed and the wind whWio. *' another Wagnerian air,— Boston Rost. THE NEW BOARD OF TRADE. “Oh, papa,” said the broker’s lift' daughter, as they walked to the Lake Shore Depot, “what a splendid building that is—that one with the clock in the steeple and the ship on top and the stained glass windows, I mean. What church is it ?” “That isn’t a church.” “Is it a Sunday school room?” “No, not exactly, my dear, though I believe the precious little lambs are sometimes taken in there.”— Chicago Herald. A RUSSIAN WAS KONO. Wo'ro coming, Alexandrovitch, at leant a mil lion more, Krom Kauini'»haeja’s bay and Obskalagouba’s shore. From Karakouskie’s frozen wild Goin Tym?- kala’a plain, Wo’ro marching Alexander, with all our in ght and main. From Gatmonackino’s forest, from Tseherbor beakoi's vale, From Wa-aian' ili b-kak Ohnirkia’s dale. Fr . .i i Iv.i.amap >•>'- ' \V, .. . "linn" I'o’. lib'. Fri i.: p Fi i -b "i. " I" O'fc your cons Wr ro on to 1:,.| Al: 1 W. '|:' IniUlV. ' nanu s no toBB From pn ■■■ the i vu I.ook liko a heap ■ f We-arolowa and oft-aWoa, offs end ' vltchoa, For Holy Church and Fiona C«ar wifi die in Herat's ditches. AN ASSENTING WITNESS. Justice (colored)—“When I said dat de man wasn’t straight what did you say ?” Witness—“l said dat’s so.” Justice—“ And when I said dat de man was crocked what did you say ?” Witness—“l said dat’s so.” Justice—“ And when I said dat de man wasn’t upright what did you say ?” Witness—“l said dat’s so.” Justice—“ And now you swear you didn’t say de man wasn’t honest ?” Witness—No more I did. I fought you referred to de rumatics de man had.”—JVetn York Advertiser. THE LAWYER'S JOKE. An Augusta (Me.) lawyer relates this story of Henry W. Paine: He was pro secuting attorney in a criminal case. The evidence plainly showed that the respondent was guilty, and the defence admitted it. The respondent’s counsel asked for a verdict of not guilty on the ground that the defendant was non compos mentis. Greatly to the surprise of Paine—and everybody else, for that matter —the jury came in with a verdict of not guilty. Paine on the instant turned to the presiding judge and said: “ Yonr Honor, the prisoner evidently has been tried by a jury of his peers.” A OOMING EVENT Wife—Old Mrs. Bentley told me con fidentially this morning that she ex pected shortly to become a grandmother. Husband (abseut-minded)— Is it pos sible 1 That old woman. — Hew,Orleans Times. GREATEST KIND OF AN INSULT. Alice—“lsn’t that queer? This book of travels says the worst insult that <»n be offered to a Russian maiden is to spread tar on the front gate <■* h «r resi dence.” Maud—“l should thi»> * would bean insult.” “But why? Oh, you mean it is a personal reflection. ” “No; it probably means that she can t get a beau, and has no use for the front gate. ” RKHadelphia Call. HE WAS OFF- “ There’s one thing nobody can ever y about me,” said a fish dealer. “ They never can say that I was ever anything but generous.” “You’re off your base,” replied his cuatomer. ' “ What makes you say that ?” “Wliy, because your very business makes yon sell fish.”— Boston Times. inns buss the wobld away. IT irsa to fashionable mother—Tho baby is very restless, ma’am. I can’t do anything with her. F. M.—She’s teething, I suppose? N.—Yes’m. I think was to take her in your it :at so