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TEMPTATION. Sin is a gnu ly insect <>n rite wing— A bright dream held to thrill a sense acnle — And in the bloom w» do not feel the sting Revealed at lest in bitter, withered fruit. *Tis nobler to withstand the sudden blast, Then let it blow thee wheresoe’er it will; And strength is added unto what thou hast In toiling up, not sliding down, the hill, —It. N. Saunders,in the Nation’s Magazine. DARKIES CRIME. WOMAN is in fbe surgery, sir, and says she must see you at once.” L ___ 1 looked up from my paper at the 1 speaker — Mar y, .JW the housemaid— ' with a weary sigh. /J v ^>.4j \ The * life not, of a doe- ( or use a 4 .-l' l ' mo • *orn. Tnl a n d . y a r tfiWxz'IK? Y anhor'sm, “all 1 ; *U'' 5 Y beer and skitles,” ' J and certainly mine on that day had not been. Sickness was very preva¬ lent in Colbourne, and the ills of 4000 inhabitants were in the bands of two doctors. Besides, there had been an outbreak of- small-pox among the navvies engaged in cutting a new rail¬ way to join the Colbourne terminus, and of late we had had our hands full. “Did the person send in her name?” I enquired. “No, sir ; she said I was to look sharp and ask you to come at once—she re¬ peated ‘at once,’ sir; and, oh, there was an awful look in her eyes.” 1 rose and went to the surgery, and there found a young woman. She did not reply to my greeting, but at once plunged into the object of her mission. Her husband, Bill Cropland, had met with an accident on a cutting of the new railway, and had been brought home on a stretcher in a “bad way.” “I will be with your husband in a few mimuten,” I replied, seeing that the nature of the case demanded my instant attention. The woman left me, and procuring what 1 thought neccessury, I hurried to the squalid } ard iu which Bill Cross- land lived. Colbourne, like many other small towns, had" slums almost as bad as some of those which we are told exist in the East End of Lon¬ don, where fevers and other pesti¬ lences thrive like weeds in an ill kept garden. The houses in this yard were rickety, and some of them filthy aud abominable. I found the injured man lying on a sofa, which had been improvised into a bed. An old woman was attending to his wants, and by the fireplace an elderly man—a navvy, stood. As I approached the bed, he left the house. My patient was a strong, lusty-looking fellow, with an almost black complex¬ ion, crisp black hair and mustache. I speedily examined his injuries, and found them of a serious nature. His ribs had been severely crushed, and a portion of one had penetrated a lung. But he bore up with wonderful cour¬ age, aud scarcely emitted a groan when I handled him. Having done everything’possible lor his comfort. I prepared to leave the house, at the same time beckoning to his wife to follow me, with the idea of warning her of the danger her husband was in. The injured man noticed the motion, and called mo. “Doctor,” he said faintly, “there’s one thing I want to kuow. Now tell me—am I done for?” The question was so pointedly put that it quiet upset mv equilibrium, I began to hesitate in my evasive an¬ swer to him, but he quickly stopped me. “Look here, doctor,” he said, iu a most determined tone, “I’m a-going to hear the truth from you afore you go. I’ll have it out o’ you, or I’ll limb it out, I will!” and his black eyes gleamed like burning coals. Again I remonstrated with him, but he would not heed me, and at last his wife interfered. “You can tell Bill anythin’, sir,” she said. “Let him know if he’s got to pass in his checks, and maybe he’ll prepare for it. It’s noue too good a life he’s lived,” and she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the recum¬ bent. figure. “Well, then,” I replied, “I may as well be frank. The tact is, I enter¬ tain very little hope of your husband’s recovery.” “Ye hear that, Bill? Doctor says yer to pass in yer checks, so just yer git reddy and do it!” I was amazed at her cold-blooded tone. “I know’d it, lass! I know’d it!” Bill replied. “Doctor !” I turned to the bed. “Sit down. Martha, bring the doctor a chair,” and the old wo- man plaoed one close to the bed for me. When I had seated myself—for I thought it best to humor him—ho looked round the room and saia : “Now, I’m a-goin’ to make a con- fessiou. Don’t any of yer git inter- ruptin’, ’cause I can’t speak so well.” He paused, and then went on : “Breath seems terrible short!” Then, turning his head to me, he re- marked: “¥er remember that ? ere accident to Jem Barker nigh on a twelvemonth sin’ ?” I nodded, for I recollected it per- fectly. One of the drivers in the tun- nel just outside the town had slipped and fallen on a rail in the dark. A load of earth had passed over his body, breaking his back, and death had re- suited almost instantly. He was found shortly afterward, and the coroner’s jury returned a verdict of “accidental death. ” “Well,” the injured man pursued, “that ’ere accident wor no accident! It wor sumrnat else. I had better tell ye that Jem Barker and I wor mates; he wor called ‘Guzzler,’ ’cause he could rrwaller so much drink—like soap suds down a sough, as the savin’ is. I wor called ‘Darkie,’ ’cause—well, ye can see why if ye look at my physog. 1 could do a fairish drop ’o liquor at times, but the wustof it wor that we both wor fond o’ the same gell, that’s Liz o’er yonder ;” and he nodded in the direction of his wife, who was seated on a box which stood beneath a window. Her eyes were fixed on the speaker. “Liz!” he suddenly exclaimed and with somewhat more energy than he had displayed in his narrative, for his breath had failed him several times, “Liz, Liz! don’t look at me like that! I canua bear it! I canna!” and he broke off into a ion^ groan, His wife dropped her eyes, but still sat like a staiue, with her hands clasped in her lap. The injured man struggled for breath, and then went on: “I know’d Liz wor fond o’ Jem, ’cause he wor fair and handsome, but I loved her the bestest. Ay, though we be navvies, doctor, we can love — only some people thinks as how we just pair off like! But they’re wrong. Well, to be gettin’ on wi’ my story. Liz ’ere had no eyes for me when Jem wor about, and I got jealous. All the old friendship ’tween me and Jem wor gone on my side, and I began to hate ’im. The crisis came one night when I meets Liz a-comin’ from the tunnel, which wor then bein’ bored. I wor on day duty, and Jem wor workin’ at nights, 'cause then we worked day and night iu shifts. She had ta’en him down some supper, and I could see how things wor go in’. So I up and tells her of me love, and axes her to marry me. Liz treated me bet¬ ter ’an I thowt she would have; she just says, ‘Bill, 1 don’t dislike ye, but I like Jem better, and I’ve promised ’im.’ I wor furious— thee’st remember it, I dessav, Liz— but she jurst turns on 'ei heel and walks off, say in’ as when the drink wor in the wit wor out I I had had drink, thee know’st. I went down to the tunnel and meets Jem a-comin’ out wi’ a truck o’ muck—we call earth muck, thee know’st. I didna let him see that I wor angry, so I just jokes wi’ him like. As I wor goin’ through the tun¬ nel a thowt struck me; if I wor just to come up behind Jem, and gi’e ’im a push in front of the truck, it would perhaps lame ’im, and then perhaps Liz would na be bothered wi’ a lame chap. I left the tunnel and went 'ome, but I didna sleep that ’ere night. Next day 1 took Jem’s place driving, and ’twere then I worked out my plans. Thee know’st there be timbers, called side trees, on each side to sup¬ port the roof o’ the tunnel ’til the brickies take the work in hand, and I thowt as how, if I wor to hide in one of them just iu the darkest place, and when Jem comes on. just put out my ’and and gie him a push, it would do all I wanted. I shanna forget that ’ere day! The idea growed on me, and when 1 left work, I made up my mind to do it. So I walks down about 0 o’clock the same night, and just as I reached the open cutting, Iheerd Jem wish Liz good night. I wor fair mad wi’ jealousy. I had murder in my ’art. Keepin’ out o’ sight o’ Liz, I creeps down just in time to see Jem take the horses back into the tunnel to hriDg a load o’ muck up. I creeps down in the darkest part, and past the shed where Bob Dalton wor pump¬ in’ air into the tunnel, wi’out bein’ seen. I know’d every inch o’ the place, and I ’ad made up my mind wheer to hide. I soon *ound it, ’cause I ’ad put a big stone theer. Besides, I ’ad picked out a spot Vhich wor always wet, ’cause of a spring which we had tapped above, which wor always run- nin’. Then it strikes me as how, if I wor to put the stone in Jem’s path, he might stumble o’er it; so I puts it theer. I ’adna long to wait afore em comes down the tunnel, which wor a bit on the incline. “My ’art begins to thump until I wor afraid Jem might ’ear it, but just then he comes up to wheer I had put the stone. He stumbled o’er it, and the horse swerved a little, but he nearly recovered hisself, and so I puts out my hand and gently pushes 'im. He falls down on the line, and the truck goes o’er ’im, ’cause I heerd ’im groan. I slipped behind the truck, and out again into the cutting wi’out bein’ seed, and bunked off back to the town. 1 wor scared! Next mornin’ I heerd as how Jem ’ad met wi’ a acci¬ dent, and that he had stumbled o’er a stone, supposed to have tumbled from a truck afore his, aud the truck 'ad broke his back. I wor a bit sorry at fust, aud then I begins to be afraid they might trace it to me. But I said nowt to nobody, and the inquest said as how ’twere a accident, and I didna trouble myself. Then Liz and I wor spliced, and though we havena pulled together both the same wav, jet I would a done anythin for her ! Thee know st it, dostna, Liz. ^e woman looked up. Her face was P a ^ e * n the extreme; her black e J es blazed, and her fingers twitched, She rose and approached the bedside, “Murderer ! she hissed between her clenched teeth. “Liz I Liz! the man s voice . broke . imploring sobs. Forgive me! Forgive me ! Doctor, and he turned with a piteous look to me, “ax her to forgive me.” The woman was standing with ... her hands clenched, anti her eyes gleam- ing—a statue of Fury. I then no- ticed . for the first time » that she was a remarkably handsome woman, though rather coarse. I went round the bed to her - “Mrs. Crossland,” I said quietly, “your husband may not live through- out the night. Do not let him go from this world to the next, whatever it may have in store for him, without your forgiveness. Don’t you remem- ber the old prayer, ‘Father, forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us’?” The fury gradually died out of the woman’s face, her hands unclenched and tears welled into her eyes. Hex bosom heaved as if suppressed sobs were almost bursting it; then, as though the effort were too much, she dropped on her knees beside the bed and sobbed aloud. Crossland was fast sinking; his breath came in difficult gasps, and bis dark visage grew almost ashy pale. “Liz! Liz!” he murmured faintly, “do you forgive me?” Still the woman sobbed on. Her grief was poignant—was it for the sin¬ fulness of ber husband or for the mem¬ ory of ber past love? 1 asked myself. At last the paroxysm of tears spent it¬ self and the woman became calmer, though she still knelt with her face hidden in her hands. I bent over ber and whispered: “Mrs. Crossland, one word to make him happy. He’s dying! Remember the prayer, ‘Forgive us our tres- passes— > >» She raised her head. There was a new light shining on the tear-stained face. “Yes,” she returned, “we should forgive. Year ago, when I went to a Sunday-school, I was told that! But ’tis hard, sir—so hard—’cause I lcved Jem so, and ’im I didna care—” “Hush !” I raised a warning finger. “His life is ebbing away. Come, Mrs, Crossland.” “Liz!” The name came very faintly. Cross¬ land’s hand strayed over the coverlet, and I took hers and placed it within his. She rose, and bending over the murderer pressed a long kiss upon his forehead. He opened his eyes and met hers, and there he read his for¬ giveness. A smile of peace and con¬ tentment illuminated his features; he slowly closed his eyes and sighed, and on that sigh the stained soul of Darkie Crossland floated over the border to that lanel from which no traveler re¬ turns. —Household Words. A Washington Story. It is one of the stock Washington stories, but it is many moons since it has been in print. It is “vouched for” as a perfectly true episode in the career of Mr. Stratford Canning, Min¬ ister to our country in the ’20s. He w T as the famous Prime Minister Can¬ ning’s cousin, and afterwards won the title of Viscount Stratford de Red- clyffe. On a raging, pouring January night the British Minister was about stepping into his carriage for a state dinner at the White House when the axletree snapped like a match. There was no time to lose, and away trotted coachman with the horses to the livery stable with orders to at once with any kind of a ve¬ The stableman had sent out he had on wheels—car¬ beiug in demand that night— his hearse, It did not take for the coachman to make up his so the horses were clapped to hearse, and in five minutes it up to the Minister’s door. he stood, watch in hand, wait¬ in agony for the vehicle, and when hearso rattled up, in he stepped, with a sigh of relief, and lying down on his back was bowled along at a gait to the White House. When the hearse rolled up to the naturally it made a sensation, was increased when a live man out of it. The climax came the dinner was over, when the departing guests were assembled in White House lobby. The car¬ were called in a stentorian “The Secretary of State’s car¬ riage! The Secretary of War’s car¬ riage! The Attorney-General’s car¬ riage ! The British Minister’s hearse!” And up rumbled the hearse, and in climbed the Minister, and off fared the equipage, the Minister lying on his back with British calmness.—Il¬ lustrated American. Horriblc Exhibition of Turkish Brutality From “A Bystander’s Notes of a Massacre,” by Yvan Troshine, in Scrib¬ ner’s, we quote as follows: “One horrible occurrence took place while I was crossing the bridge about half past twelve on Thursday. An old gentleman, an Armenian, stood at the ticket office of the steam¬ boat company, buying his ticket to go to the upper Bosphorus. A police¬ man came up and rather roughly searched his person. The old gentle¬ man naturally remonstrated with some warmth. The policeman instantly knocked him down. The poor old man picked himself up, and the po¬ liceman knocked him down again. Upon this a Turkish army officer came oat of a coffee shop, and rebuked the policeman for his brutality to an old man. To justify himself the police¬ man declared that the old man had cartridges in his pocket. Then some one yelled “Kill the Giaour!” In a moment a crowd of ruffians sprang forward from, no one knows what lurking places and in less time than it takes to tell it they had beaten out the old • man’s brains on the planks in front of the steamer wharf. Two small Armenian boys stood by, paralyzed with terror at this sudden exhibition of passions of which they had no idea. One of the bludgeon- meu noticed them and shouted out, ‘These also are Armenians!’ In a mo¬ ment more the crying, pleading boys had been beaten to death before the eyes of the officers and of the horror stricken passengers who were waiting for the steamer. Bat neither officers, nor police, nor passengers, had aught to say to the murderers.” A Rabbit Pest. The rabbit, introduced into Aus- tralia, has now overrun that continent to such an extent as to demand special legislation for its suppression. Some 2000 men are employed in New South Wales alone in the destruction of this rodent. Since 1870 Victoria has voted considerably over $500,000 for the de- struction of the rabbit. A revival is noted in the phosphate industry at Fort Ogden, Fia. VANILLA. BEAN. SOMETHING ABOUT TIIF MOST VALUABLE FRUIT GROWN. How ';lt is Cultivated in Mexico— Rapid Growth oi the Pods— Curing, Drying and Send¬ ing to Market. V ANILLA us a flavoring for ice¬ creams and other delicacies, from once being considered a luxury, has now come to be so generally used that it is considered a necessity, and it would be very hard to find a substitute for it. Commer¬ cial extract of vanilla is obtained from the vanilla bean, which is a native of Mexico, and is probably the mo°t val¬ uable fruit grown, the best quality of Mexican beans often being worth nearly their weight in silver. The vanilia plant is a climbing vine, with a stem about as thick as an ordi¬ nary lead pencil, covered with dark green, spear shaped leaves. These vines throw out small aerial roots which attach themselves to the bark of a neighboring tree and appear to obtain some nourishment from the sap of the tree. In their 'wild state the vines entirely cover the branches of a tree, and running from it into adjoin¬ ing trees, form festoons and arbors so thick as to exclude the rays of the sun and make progress through the forest almost impossible. For a great many years no attempt whatever was made to cultivate the plants, but as the supply decreased from year to year and the demand increased some steps had to be taken to procure a more adequate supply. The vanilla vines blossom profusely during March and April. The flower is yellow and has a very agreeable sweet smell. By far the greater num¬ ber of blossoms wither and fall off, and the ones producing beans are a very small percentage of the total number. The beaus grow very rapidly for the first two months, and by the first of July have attained their full size, and from that time" on grow but little, if any. The beans, or pods, are from six to twelve inches long, and about half inch in diameter, and when ripe are about the color of a banana, and have very much the same appear¬ ance, except that they are a little less in diameter and somewhat longer. Each vine yields about 100 beans, and some vines have a single branch that bear twelve or fifteen pods. From the first of July, when the bean is a dark-green color, it grows but little in size, turning gradually a yellow color, until the last of Decem¬ ber or first of January, when it is fully ripe and ready for gathering, The pods are filled with minute black seeds and a small quantity of pulp, and when prepared for market become re¬ duced to about one-fourth their origi¬ nal thickness, are black in color, and emit a very sweet, agreeable perfume. Although the beans do not become thoroughly ripened until the first of January, there is such a demand for them that the growers begin to gather the crop in November. Beans gathered before they are ripe cannot be as readily cured, and the growers do not get so much for them. They are ob¬ liged to begin picking them before they are ripe, however, as if they do not some one else would save the owners the trouble of gathering them, and they would thus be deprived of the results of much hard labor and care. One of the greatest expenses the growers are put to is in properly guarding their plantations, that their crop, in whole or in part, may not bo stolen by the natives. It is impossible to make these people understand that the beans are not growing wild, and the property of any one who is willing to gather them. The curing of the beans is a slow, tedious process, and one requiring a great amount of care and attention. For the most part the growers do not cure their own beans, but sell them in miscellaneous lots to curers, who em¬ ploy experts for that purpose. The total time consumed by the curing process is about five months, The beans as soon as gathered are spread out in the sun on black blankets, and allowed to remain until they are quite hot to the touch. They are then gathered up and placed in a sweating box, which is simply a wooden box large enough to hold all the beans. This box is well warmed in the sun, and its whole interior is then lined with blankets that have been out in tho sun. After the beans are in the box the ends of the blankets are folded over them, and other warmed blankets are placed over and around the box. The whole is then allowed to remain for thirty-six hours, by which time the ripest of the vanilla will begin to turn black, and the box will have lost most of its heat. The beans now have to be spread out in the sun again, after which they are again sweated, and this process continued four or five times, until the beans are the proper color. As the ripe beans tnrn black the quickest, after each sweating the whole lot has to be gone over, and the ones which are black enough picked out and placed by themselves. Great care must be exercised in this process, as, if they are very little oversweated, it is sufficient to reduce the weight about one pound per thousand beans, which would be a great loss, and, as the bean loses part of its color when overdried, there is a further loss of about $1 per pound on account of poor color. As soon as the beans have been suffi- ciently sweated and are of the proper color they are spread out on drying racks, being carefully gone over from day to day, and any that show signs of moisture or mold are taken out and put in the sun until the mold dis- appears, when they are again placed on the racks. When of the proper dryness, which the operator from ex¬ perience can judge very accurately by the feeling of the bean, they are taken from the racks and carefully assorted into bunches of fifty, all tbe-boans in one bunch being of the same length. The bunches are then carefully tied and placed in tin boxes, each box hold¬ ing forty bunches. It is an easy mat¬ ter to tie the vanilla, but it is not every one who knows how to do it so that the bunches present a good ap¬ pearance and keep their shape during frequent handlings, to which the bunches must necessarily be subjected. All the pods of irregular shape are put in the center of the bunch, as if on the outside they will soil its appear¬ ance. The bunches must be ot the same thickness all the way down, their tops roundel, and outside smooth. The vanilla bunches must fit snugly in the tin boxes, as if they are loose in the box and rub against each other they will be damaged. After the vanilla is all in the tin boxes it is carefully weighed, and put in wooden boxes, made of Mexican red cedar, four or five tins in each box, according to the size. Theso boxes are then covered with a fiber matting made by the Mexicans, and the beans are ready for shipment. Two of the cases are strapped on the back of a mule or burro, which are then started for the coast in strings of eight or ten animals; thence the vanilla is shipped to Europe or the United States by steamer, reaching its destination about the middle of -Tune or first of July. The price the beans bring depends entirely on their length and color, and varies from SB to $15 per pound. Each bunch of fifty beans weighs from a pound to a pound and a half, and a tin containing forty bunches is worth therefore in the neighborhood of $51)0. —Chicago Record. Strangely Warned. The following remarkable occur¬ rence, an absolute fact, is related by a lady visiting friends in Hartford, as it was told by her cousin in Meerut, Northwestern India. It took place in the bouse of the sister of the narrator. Of its absolute accuracy there can be no question. Tho two sisters in India are connected with families of repute and with officers of the British array in India. Tho Hartford Times gives the story as the lady here related it. She is a devout member of the Episco¬ pal Church and is incapable of mis¬ representing in the slightest particu¬ lar. Her cousin, in whose house the oc¬ currence took place, was seated at a lighted table eugaged in reading, when, thinking it about time to retire, and happening to lift her eyes from her book, she was astonished to see seated in a chair beside her, and be¬ tween herself and the door to the bathroom, a man, a stranger to her, who calmly regarded her. It was too great a surprise) for her to speak and demand who was thus intruding un¬ bidden upon her privacy and what was wanted. She remained for a mo¬ ment in silent astonishment. Then it gradually dawned upon her her that the figure was probably not that of a person of real fiesh and blood, but a visitor from the unseen world of life. She remembered hav¬ ing once, a3 a child, seen a similar figure, under circumstances which seemed to preclude the idea that it was any person still in the body, and in later years, in revolving those cir¬ cumstances, she had remembered how the apparation had after a little while faded away into invisibility. Conclud¬ ing that this new visitor also was not a person of flesh and blood, she sat silently gazing at the silent object, while the intruder, whoever or what¬ ever he was, sat also in silence, steadily regarding her. Just how long this state of things lasted the lady did not accurately kuow, but it was probably not very long when the mysterious stranger began to vanish into a thin¬ ner and thinner personal presence, until in a moment or two he had van¬ ished quite away. It was the lady’s hour for her even¬ ing bath, but she thought she would first let out her two pet dogs from their confinement in another room. They came barking furiously and run¬ ning directly toward the bathroom. There, through the open door, the lady was horrified to see on the floor a monstrous cobra—the snake whose bite is certain aud speedy death. Springing forward to save her dogs, she quickly shut the door, but not so instantaneously as to prevent her see¬ ing the reptile turning an 1 escaping down through a hole in the door where the drain pipes of bathtub and washbowl wenv, a hole which had been carelessly left larger than wa3 neces- sary. If she had gone directly to the bath¬ room as she would have done but for the intervention of her mysterious visitant, her life would undoubtedly have been sacrificed in the act. Elephantine Nurses in Siam. The women of Siam intrust their children to the care of elephant nurses aud it is said the trust in never be- frayed. The elephant, not being sns- ceptible to the charms of the saun- tering policeman nor the social claims of its friends and relations, is conse- quently able to devote its entire at- tention to its charge. The babies pl & y a bout the huge feet ^ ^of the ele- phants, who are >ery careful never to hurt the little creatures. And if dan- S eT threatens the sagacious animal curls the child gently up in its trunk and swings it up out of harm s wa y upon its own back. Electric Towboats. It is stated that electric towboats are about to be placed on the river Spree, near Berlin, where for a dis- tance of eight miles the ordinary barges cannot use sails, owing to a large number will of low used. bridges. The trolley system be SLEIGH BELLS. XM‘h n tingle and a tangle, All the sounds n seeming jangle, And a swinging backward, forward, to and fro; On the frosty morning breaking. Clear their silvery notes outshaking. The sleigh bells are ringing o’er the snow How they set the nerves a-thril!ing. Through the heart a joy distilling, Mingling music with the beauty of the day*. As with slipping and with sliding, Swiftly, softly, smoothly gliding, With a song o’er the suow wo drift away. —Eliza A. Fletcher, in Outing. rrm and point. The stupid dude is improved Ast when a clever girl gives him a piece of her mind.—Judge. Tommy—“Oh, paw?” Mr. Figg— “Well?” “How can a solid fact leak out?”—Indianapolis Journal. Brown—“l haven’t a friend in the world.” Jones—“You can make one; I need five.”—Chicago Times-Herald. Poak—“The way of the transgres- sor is hard.” Joak—“True; but the trouble is,it’s generally hard on some¬ body else.”—Truth. To the strong-minded female you might give an “atlas of the world,” to show her how grasping she is when she wants the earth.—Judge. Landlord—“I’ll have to raise your rent this month.” Tenant—“Wish you would. I have been trying to do it all the month.”—New York Ledger. She pleaded, expostulated, gesticu¬ lated ; all to no purpose, and then re¬ mained unmoved. She couldn’t striko a bargain with the truckman.—Puck. “I am hopeful that you will pay me that $10 before the end of the week, Smithson.” “That’s right, old man. Be hopeful, but don’t be sanguine.” —Judge. “Lemme see; what is that saying about the great oak growing from the little acorn?” “Oh. that isn’t an oak any more; it is a chestnut.”—Cincin¬ nati Enquirer. Fisher—“Do you believe in hered¬ ity?” Mann—“Sure. Many a time I have noticed that when a man was rich his son had the same trait.”— Cincinnati Inquirer. First Tram]) — “The papers all say that work is starting up everywhere.” Second Ditto—“I know; isn’t it aw¬ ful? You and I may bo drawn into it yet.”—Boston Transcript. Hoax—“What! You buying a bi¬ cycle? I thought you detested them.” Joax— “So I do, but I’ve been run over long enough. Now I’m going to have my revenge.”—Spare Moments. “Is there no way to convince you,” ho pleaded, “that! would do anything in the world to make you happy?” “Yes,” the coldly replied ; “get a move on you before I become a total wreck from loss of sleep.”—Cleveland Leader. “What do you wish, madame?”faid the election officer to Mrs. Tenspotl “You have already voted once to-day. You voted before noon, you kuow.” “Oh, yes, I know that,” replied the votercss, “but I want to change my ballot.”—Harper’s Bazar. Mistrer3 (reprovi ngly) — ‘ ‘Bridget, breakfast is very late this morning. I noticed last night that you had com¬ pany in the kitchen, and it was near¬ ly 12 o’clock when you went to bed.” Bridget—“Yis, mum; I knowed you was awake, fur I heard ye movin’ around; an’ I said to meself y’d nade slape this mornin’, an’ I wouldn’t dis- £oorb ye wid an early breakfast, mum.”—New York Weekly. A Rooster in Court. A peculiar lawsuit was in progress in Esquire Eiler’s court yesterday, and lasted all day,(says a Muniee (Ind.) dispatch to the Chicago Chronicle. It was a suit that cost over $100, and all that was involved was an old roos¬ ter, and by sight a person wonld judge that his life would end within a week. The rooster has for some time been in possession of T. Kirby Heiusohn, of the Hotel Kirby, but was owned by Delbert Galliher. A few days ago George Alvy laid claim to it, but as Heinsohn or Galliher would not give it to him he entered a suit of replevin. Each employed a couple of lawyers and yesterday over seventy-five wit¬ nesses were examined, and the trial resulted in the rooster remaining in tho poS6es6 ion of Galliher, and Alvy had all of the costs to pay, amouAng to over $100. Daring the trial ‘tho rooster was perched upon the judge’s desk and crowed almost continually from the beginning to the end of tho trial. Since the trial it has been learned that the rooster is one of a breed that has held the reputation as being the best fighters in the United States. The chicken was brought £rom Covington by the Hemingrays. and has won many a fight during his time. He is kept now for breeding purposes only. Making Phrases. The making of phrases has frequent¬ ly been the sole distinction of many a prince. Perhaps the most remarkable phrase uttered by a modern sovereign was spoken by King Humbert, of Italy, a few years, when cholera was raging in Naples. He had been invit¬ ed to a banquet by the municipality of Genoa, and declined in the follow¬ ing words: “Men are feasting at Genoa. Men are dying in Naples. I go to Naples.” Well Coddled Miss. A fourteen-months-old child of Read¬ ing, Penn., rejoices in the unique distinction of having four great-grandmothers living. Only one of these great-grandmothers wears spectacles, and all live within a short distance of the borne of this presum¬ ably well noddled miss.—Philadelphia Presf*.