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;the licht.
VPpen the window, Mother dear,- - .
/And let me breathe the fragrant air -
"That blows In from the garden where
The flowers bloom. And let me hear
The chorus of the birds that sing
tVlthln the trees, for It will bring
To my faint heart a little oheer.
Please, Mother dear—
It seems so close and hot In here.”
She raised the window. Full and freo
The sun-ltlssed air came streaming In
Upon his face so pale and thin;
TUo song of birds—ln rapturous glee—
Fell on his car. He smiled, and then
The eyelids closed; he slept again.
The mother holding tenderly
The outstretched hand,
For woll she seemed to understand.
aSf
"Open the shutter. Mother dear,
It’s growing dark—l cannot see.
let in the light—sit close to me.
That I may feel your presence near.
Let in the sunlight from the shy—
The light that’s pure and that I
May see your face again. Bend near—
Ah, there’s the light!
Good-bye, dear mother—good—good
night.”
The light had oome—the radiunt light
Of angels bending o’er him low,
The light which but the dead can know,
Whioh guides the soul upon Its flight
To that far land of peace and rest;
The Heavenly light which, last and best,
Illumines through the darkest night.
—James C. Challlss, in Independent.
THE WRONG CUE.
BT EMILY LENNOX.
egga ILA WEIB taught
__ elooution at Mad
('JJßjUs. ame Ihonro n’s
Young Ladies'
ft |L Seminary when
- • |:|v Thorndyck Far
rington was
cashier of the
; First National
Bank.
Lila was both young and pretty, and,
as the bank was just around tbe cor
ner from the seminary, it often hap
pened that Mr. Farrington walked
home from school with her, to the un
disguised chagrin of her lover, John
Cunningham.
He met them one afternoon in Feb
ruary, slipping along over the icy
pavement, and talking gaily together.
John had gone out of his way on
purpose to walk home with Lila, but
came too late; and, when he met her,
half a block from the seminary, lean
ing on Farrington’s arm, he passed on
with a bow that was very stiff and for
mal.
8, “Confound the fellow!” he muttered,
as lie glanced back at Farrington’s
stylish figure, “What does Lila mean
by lotting him dance attendance on
her every day?”
The cashier of the First National
wore on this occasion a handsome
brown chinchilla overcoat and a stylish
Derby hat. In one hand he carried a
cane with a head of beaten silver.
“The fool!” John muttered, with
more force than elegance; but Mr.
Thorndyck Farrington was just then
oblivious to epithets.
When John called that evening, Lila
knew in a minute that he was out of
sorts.
“See here, my little girl,” he said,
soberly, “I wish you wouldn’t let that
fellow, Farrington, walk home with
you so much.”
“Now, John, don’t be silly!”
“I don’t like him, Lila. Besides, I
wouldn't want any man to walk home
with you as muoli as he does.”
“Well, Johir Cunningham, if you
aren’t perfectly absurd!”
“Idon’t think lam,” he said, flush
ing deeply. “Someone asked me this
morning why I’d let that fool of a Far
rington cut me out. I don’t like such
innuendoes, Lila.”
“What perfect nonsense, John!”
“Nonsense or not, I don’t like it!”
he said, with some spirit. “Lila, I
am going aw’ay to-morrow, and I want
yon to promise me that you won’t al
low Farrington to walk home with you
any more.”
“You are going away to-morrow,
John!” she echoed. “To Washing
ton?”
“Yes,” he said, slipping his arm
around her. “I am going to-morrow,
darling!—to be gone two months, per
haps. But if I succeed in this under
taking, Lila, there will be an end to
all this weary waiting, and we can be
married at once I”
“Humph!” she said, saucily, “It
takes two to make a bargain.”
“Yes—but we two are one! Don’t
trifle with me, Lila. I can’t bear it.
This hope lies too near my heart.”
“I did not mean to trifle, John.”
“I don’t think you ever mean to
hurt me,” he said, gravely; “but some
times you do. I know I am jealous,
Lila, but I can’t help it. It is all in
vain that I strive against it, and when
I think of that fellow Farrington, l—
it makes me wretched!”
“But what can I do, John? I can’t
insult the man by telling him he can’t
walk with me.”
“Your woman's wit will serve you,
Lila. I never saw a girl yet that
couldn’t get rid of an admirer, if she
saw fit.”
“But suppose I don’t want to get
rid of him?”
“Lila!”
“Well, John? I think you might
trust me more.”
“I 3o trust you. But I tell you it
makes me unhappy to ,see you with
that fellow, and I think that ought to
be sufficient!”
“I suppose I might go home the
back way,” she said, musingly.
“If you did several times, he would
coon see that you were trying to avoid
him.”
“But, John, the back way is hor
rid!”
He took her pretty, perverse little
face between his hands, and lifted it
so that he could look into
her eyes.
“Darling,” he “do it
just to please me.” —,
“Well, I will! But you’re a perfect
tyrant, John Cunningham!”
“And you are an angel!” he cried,
rapturously. “Lila, you shall never
regret the little things you do to
please me. They make me love you
all the more.”
John went to Washington the fol
lowing morning. Two weeks dragged
themselves away, and then something
unexpected happened to shorten his
sojourn in Washington. His pui-pose
was accomplished with less difficulty
than lie had anticipated, and in full
realization of his fond hopes,he hurried
back to Lila.
He had not written her, because he
wanted to take her by surprise, and
she never dreamed of his ooming.
It was rather late one evening when
he ran up the steps and pulled the
bell.
There was a bright light in the par
lor, and John leaned over to peep
through the lace curtains into the
room.
“Fshawl” he exclaimed, with much
vexation as he saw a gentleman sitting
with his back toward the window.
“There’s somebody there! I’ll go right
on up to the sitting-room.”
The door was opened by a little col
ored girl, who was the only servant
that the Weirs kept.
“Hush—sh!” John said, warningly,
as he stepped into th 6 hall. “Don’t
tell any one I am here, Katie.”
The little girl retired under cover of
a broad grin.
“I wonder who is in there!” John
said, reflectively, as he stepped up to
the hat-rack to identify the hat and
overcoat that were hanging there.
There was a cane with a beaten-sil
ver head lying across the top of the
rack, and under it a brown overcoat
hanging beside a Derby hat.
John’s face changed its expression,
as he took down the hat, and saw in
side of w it an embroidered baud
marked, “T. W. F.”
“Thorndyck Farrington!” be mut
tered, with quiok resentment, and just
then he heard Lila’s voice raised to a
key somewhat higher than ordinary.
“John is so fearfully jealous!” she
said. “I don’t know what to do with
him!”
“Why do you put up with it?” was
the query, in a_lower tone. “I cannot
bear to see you subject to the will of
such a man, darling. I wish you would
let me put a stop to it!”
“I am going to write to him myself,”
said Lila. ‘‘l can’t stand it any longer.
I have fully made up my mind to break
off our engagement.”
John heard this; but he heard no
more. Tho floor seemed to heave like
the waves of the ocean; the light in
the hall grew suddenly dim, and he
gasped for breath.
His first instinct was to get opt of the
house. He staggered toward the door,
and down the steps, like a drunken
man.
“What was that?” Lila exclaimed,
as she heard the front door bang.
She started up and peeped out into
the hall, but no one was visible.
“I guess it was the wind,” she ob
served, as she went back to her seat;
and John’s brief visit was not dis
covered.
But the next day there came to her
a note, saying;
I take this opportunity of releasing you
from an engagement whieli has grown irk
some to you. You are free to favor whom
you will, Mr. Thorndyck Farrington not
excepted. May you have more happiness
than you deserve!" Ido not fancy the role
of hoodwinked husband. Thank heaven I
found you out before It was too late.
John Cunningham,
In the afternoon John was sitting
in his office, trying to make up his
mind whether he would go to Panama
or Alaska; all he knew’ was that he
could not stay where he was.
As he sat there, with his dull gaze
fixed upon the floor, Harry Weir came
in, looking flushed and indignant.
“See her, Cunningham!” he said,
laying his right hand roughly on
John’s shoulder, “what the deuce do
you mean by acting in this W’ay. What
right had you to send such a note to
Lila?”
John struggled to his feet, and threw
off Harry’s hand.
“Because," he said, bitterly, “your
sister is a heartless, unprincipled
flirt!”
“You’re a liar!” Harry cried, hotly,
and with one stout blow he sent John
staggering hack over the chair, which
fell to the floor with a crash, and John
on top of it.
With one faint cry that was half a
groan, John fell back in a limp, sense
less heap upon the floor.
As Harry saw John lying there,
white and unconscious, his anger gave
way to horror.
“Great heavens,” he cried, falling
on his knees at John’s side, “I have
killed him!”
Half frantic at his own violence, he
summoned aid, and John Cunningham
was taken home, not dead, but seri
ously injured.
Harry told a straight story, and the
law had its course. He was placed
under arrest, to await the result of
John’s injuries.
From the prison he wrote a note to
his sister.
“Dear Lila,” he said, “I did not
obey your injunction, for I could not
keep my hands off Cunningham. The
thought of you made me forget your
earnest prayer that I would not molest
him. I knocked him down, and I fear
he is fatally injured. Forgive me,
and break this to mother as gently as
you can.”
Half an hour after this note reached
her, Lila left the house with a face
that was white as death, and eyes
that were shadowed by dark despair.
It was not to her brother in prison
that she went first, but to John Cun
ningham w’ho lay back upon a bank of
pillows, pale and suffering.
“Is he going to die?” Lila asked,
with ashen lips, as the doctor passed
her in the hall.
“No,” the doctor answered, gravely;
“but his back—”
“Broken?” she gasped.
“No, not so bad as that; but it’s an
ugly sprain. It may be months—”
Lila heard no more. She had dashed
past, and was kneeling down beside
her lover’s bed.
“John, John!” she sobbed. “I am
so sorry!”
As be opened his eyes a slight spasm
crossed his face.
Again* 4 *' Ms will the look of love came
back, Ahd he murmured:
‘/-Lila!”
Her arms were about him in an
instant.
“John, dear!” she cried, burying
her face in the pillows, while she shook
with convulsive sobs, “you did not
mean it, "did you?”
“Did you mean it, Lila?” he said,
gravely.
“Did I mean what?”
“What yon said to Mr. Farrington
last night. I was in the hall, Lila, and
heard you.”
“John, dear, you are certainly
dreaming.”
“No,” he said, turning awayj.his
head, with a look of pain. “I meant
to surprise you, and I slipped into the
hall. I—l heard what you said about
me. I saw Farrington’s overcoat on
the rack. Oh, Lila! why did you de
ceive me?”
“John,” she said, impressively, “I
do not understand a word of this!”
“Thorndyck Farrington called upon
you last night, Lila."
“He did not!”
“I saw his cane and overcoat in the
hall!”
“John!” she oried, with a sudden
inspiration, “did that mislead you?
That was his hat and overcoat. Ho
and Harry went skating night before
last, and Harry got into an air-bole.
You have misjudged Thorndyck, John.
Ho saved Hurry’s life, and because
Harry was all wet he loaned my
brother his hat and overcoat to wear
home. As for the oane, he made Harry
a present of that a week ago.”
“Then he wasn’t at your honse last
night?” John said, faintly,
“No; I have not seen him since you
went away."
“But I heard you say—”
“What did you hear, John?”
“You said, ‘John is so fearfully
jealous. I don’t know what to do with
him!’ You said more, too. I s don’t
remember the words, only you de
clared that yon were going to break off
your engagement with me, and—”
A joyous laugh rippled from Lila’s
lips, but she checked it as she remem
bered John's condition.
“Dearest,” she whispered, bending
over him till her soft cheek pressed
against his bearded one, “I was read
ing aloud. I will show you the book
in which those very words occur.
Harry took cold, in spite of all pre
cautions, and the doctor ordered him
to stay in the honse. I amused him
by reading aloud last night. You for
got that I was a teacher of elocution.
Like Mr. Orator Puff, I have ‘two
tones to my voice.’ One is up, so,
the other down, so. Oh, John, dear
John! Did you really think I was
saying all that?”
“Of course I did!” he answered,
tremulously, and then he folded his
arms around her, while his tears wet
her glossy hair.
“Darling,” she said when she had
let him hold her there in silence for a
long, long time, “never doubt me
again, no matter what happens.”
“I never will,” he answered, sol
emnly. “I ought to hnve gone right
to you for an explanation. My jealous
nature made me the easy victim of a
mistake. Oh, Lila! If I had lost you
by my oxvn precipitancy!”
“What if Iliad lost you!” she said,
with a shudder. “And Harry, through
your death!”
“Thank God, there is no danger of
that! I shall get well, the doctor says,
and—and, Lila, I wish you would
bring Thorndyck to see me.”
Harry was discharged, of course,
and at the end of two months, John
was able to be about. Meanwhile, he
changed his opinion of the cashier of
the First National, whom he allowed
to walk home with Lila whenever dis
posed to.
But it was not very long that Lila
felt the need of an escort. She left
Madame Thouron’s in May, and in
June she and John were married.
Harry Weir and Thorndyck Farring
ton were groomsmen at the wedding,
and they do say that the latter is go
ing to marry John’s sister.
Solar Engine?.
Elaborate experiments with solar
engines have been made by the French
in Algeria, where the sun shines at all
times, and with great power. The
best apparatus was found to be a sim
ple arrangement of boiler and concave
mirror, the steam generated being
condensed in a coiled tube surrounded
by water. This was for distilling
water merely. In India an inventor
named Adams has obtained some very
interesting results with machines of
his own contrivance. One of these is a
cooking-box, made of wood and lined
with reflecting mirrors. At the bottom
of the box is a small copper boiler,
covered with glass to retain the heat
of the rays concentrated by mirrors
upon the boilers. In this contrivance
any sort of food may be quickly
cooked. If the steam is retained the
result is a stew or boil; if allowed to
escape it is a bake. The rations of
seven men can be prepared in two
hours, including meats. The heat
may be augmented indefinitely by in
creasing the diameter of the box.
It is reckoned that the heat of the
sun would sufficiently warm and illume
2,000,000,000 globes as big as our
earth. The solar orbs shrink in di
ameter at the rate of about ten inches
per diem. It w ill be 4,000,000 or
5,000,000 years before there is any
perceptible diminishment of its radia
tion. Eventually, of course, it must
become dead and cold like the moon,
—St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
Snake Overcomes a Cow.
On a farm belonging to one of the
townsmen of Starruca Penn., a year
ago since, a cow was noticed making
repeated and furious charges at a
dense thicket. An investigation by
the owner of the animal showed that
she was fighting a big blacksnake and
trying to stamp it to death with her
fore feet. The thicket was an isolated
clump of laurels, and the snake did
not seem disposed to leave it and trust
its life in the open country.
Finally the cow lowered her head
and attempted to impale the snake on
her horns. In an instant the snake
sprang on the cow’s head and coiled
itself about her horns. The cow was
dazed for an instant and' then set off
on a run, occasionally kneeling to rub
herself against the ground, but she
was unable to rid herself of her en
emy.
The cow seemed finally to realize
that all her efforts were useless, and
sst off at a full gallop. The men on
the farm made an effort to follow her
and turn her back. When cornered
she would charge everything in sight.
Occasionally the snake would half
twist itself and its head would play
before the cow’s eyes. On these oc
casions the poor animal would bellow
with terror and go backward in an
endeavor to escape from the snake.
Finally the poor brute dropped from
sheer exhaustion and panted out her
life. The snake was immediately dis
patched, and on being measure 1 was
found to be over six feet in length.—•
New York Press.
Fining a Dead Man.
Among the persons summoned at
the Highgate (London) Police Court
for breach of the muzzling order was
a man who, on being called, did not
appear. It was stated that he had
since died. The Bench, however, im
posed the* usual fine of tea shill iugs
and W
THE REALM OF FASHION.
The accepted length for all winter
garments, says May Manton, is slight
ly greater than that adopted for fall.
Tlie stylish jacket here shown meas-
DOTTBLE-BBEABTED JACKET FOR WINTER.
ures twenty-six inches from the neck
to the lower edge. The material is
rough-faced cloth, which is bound
with fur and trimmed with braid.
With it is worn a hat of long-haired
beaver simply handed with ribbon.
The coat proper consists of fronts,
backs, side-backs and under-arm
a;ores. Tbe fitting is accomplished by
Means of the last and the shoulder
seams. The backs and under-arm
pieces are adjusted to the figure, the
backs being finished by regulation
soat laps below the waist line, but the
'routs are loose. The right side laps
WAIST AND FOUR-GORED SKIRT WITH FAN BACK.
well over onto the left, where the
closing is invisibly effected. Two
pockets, finished with overlaps, are
conveniently placed. The neck is fin
ished with a straight band and high
flaring collar. The sleeves are two
seamed and show a slight fulness at
the shoulder. The coat is lined
throughout with plaid taffeta silk.
To make this jacket for a lady in
the medium size will require one and
three-fourths yards of fifty-four-inch
material.
Ladies’ Waist and Four-Gored Skirt.
In the double-column design zibe
line, in one of the rich new’ shades of
brown, is stylishly trimmed with mo
hair braid in a darker shade, olives
decorating the cross strips that en
hance the style of the rounded bolero
fronts. The folded belt of bias velvet
widens at the under-arm seam, a hand
some gilt buckle concealing the clos
ing in centre-front. The construction
of the waist is exceeding simple and
very generally becoming. The full
front, being only slightly bloused,
makes it particularly well adapted for
stout figures. Linings fitted with the
usual seams and double darts serve as
a foundation, on which tbe fulness of
both back and fronts is defty arranged.
Tbe bolero fronts are included in the
shoulder and under-arm seams, aud
join tbe smart, close-fitting collar,
which, with the full fronts, closes in
visibly in centre. The close-fitting
sleeve is shaped with an upper and
under portion, the latter being narrow
in the latest and most approved shape.
A stylish ripple circular cap trimmed
with braid finishes the top of sleeve.
The skirt has front gores, being
much modified in width according to
the latest modes. The back is laid in
fan plaits, two on each side, turning
towards the centre and flarmgtowards
the foot as the name indicates. The
handsome trimming, applied in Van
Dyke style, is supported by an under
facing of light-weight hair-cloth or
canvas. The prominence given to
braid for all kinds of trimming gives
endless possibilities fts to the manner
of decorating such a toilette, individu
al taste deciding-in nearly every in
stance. This gives variation even
when, designs are similar. Combina
tions that ore always in order when a
costume has to be remodeled, can be
stylishly developed by making tbe full
fronts and sleeves of a contrasting ma
terial', or tbe bolero fronts and epau
lettes can be of velvet, heavy silk,
plaid or plain-faced cloth in harmoniz
ing shardes.
To make this waist for a lady in the
medium size will require two and one
half yards of forty-fonr-ineb material,
and to make the skirt will require four
and seven-eighths yards of the same
width goods.
Mtiffs Large and Small.
Fashion declares for the carrying of
a muff ns amecessary part of the smart
fall costume. It need not necessarily
be made of fur, although to be quite
the thing fur should figure somewhere
as its ornamentation, while the foun
dation must match the color and mate
rial of the gown. The lining may be
of a contrasting color. These finger
warming affairs are equally fashionable
in large or small models, though the
ultra-size of the Victorian period is
very wisely tabooed by the woman who
w.ould be well dressed.—Woman’s
Home Companion.
Misses* Blouse With Plastron Yoke.
No design is more youthful than the
blouse with plastron yoke, and none
lends itself more readily to the use of
two materials. The model shown com
bines plaid in soft wool stuff with silk
which matches the line of rich blue
running through the design. The
trimming consists of the popular black
velvet ribbon and a quilling of the
blue silk about the free edges. The
belt is of blaok velvet and the collar
of the silk banded with black. The
foundation of the blouse is a fitted
lining showing the usual number of
seams and pieces and which close at
the centre-front. The hack portiou of
the yoke is faced onto the lining, but
the front is made separate and is
seamed at the right shoulder and
hooked over to the left. The blouse
proper has short shoulder and under
arm seams only, the slashed basque
portion being cut separate and seamed
to the blouse at the w aist line. I?he
right front is stitched to the lining,
but the left hooks into place beneath
the trimmed edge. The sleeves are
two-seamed and snug to the shoulder,
where slight puffs support the stylish
epaulettes. Cashmere and Henrietta,
misses’ blouse.
as well as novelty goods of all sort3,
are peculiarly suitable and many effec
tive combinations of plain dark color
and plaid or striped yoke can be made,
while shirred velvet and silk make
ideal yokes for plain stuffs.
To make this blouse for a miss of
fourteen years will require tw'o aud
one-fourtlr yards of forty-four inch
material, or two yards of plaid with
one-half yard of plain goods.
Brow n Velveteen in Vogue.
Brown velveteen is considered dressy
this season and will be worn even to
dancing school.
The common house sparrow flies at
the rate" of seven an hour.
OUR BUDGET OF HUMOR.
LAUGHTER-PROVOKING STORIES FOR
LOVERS OF FUN.
Married Now—Only Enough For Two—
Her Advantage—How Yon Can Tell—
Too Personal—Consideration—Admires
tlie Sentiment—lntimation, Etc., Etc.
Ah, once when Julia read aloud,
My doting soul was rapt and proud;
But now, although I love her more,
When Julia reads I dozo and snore.
—Chicago Record.
Only Enongh For Two.
Landlady—“ What part of tho
chicken would you like, Mr. Hardy?”
Hardy—“Either.”—Tack.
now Yon Can Tell.^
“You can tell how old a tree is by
its rings.”
“Yes; and that’s the way you can
tell how vonag a girl is, too.”
The Terrors of lialdheadedness.
Gadsby—“Your hair will be gray if
it keeps on.”
Woolfin—“Oh, well, if it keeps on
I’ll be satisfied.”—Koxbury Gazette.
Her Advantage.
“Your daughter has an angelic dis
position.”
“Yes; we always let her have her
own way abont everything.”—Chicago
Record.
Too Personal.
“What a singular nose the new
boarder, Miss Perkins, has!”
“Yes; she looks so much like a par
rot that I didn’t dare pass her the
crackers. ”
Admires tlie Sentiment.
“That man singing ‘Only One Girl
in the World For Me’ has been mar
ried three times.”
“Well, that’s all right; he means
only one girl at a time.”—Chicago
Kecord.
A Burst of Speed.
Street Car Conductor (to driver)—
“I wonder what that man is runniug
so hard for?”
Driver (looking back) —“Mebby the
fool wants ter git on. G’laug!”—New
York Weekly.
Intimation.
“This newspaper says that a young
woman ought not to sit at a piano
more than fifteen minutes at a time.”
“Here, cut that out and let’s send it
to that family in the next flat.”—Chi
cago Tribune.
Consideration.
“Which would you rather have
around a flat building—a dog or a
baby?”
“That would depend entirely on
which one of them was mine. ’—ln
dianapolis Journal.
A Sure Indication,
“By George, Mrs. Monger must be
telling our wives tbe most awful scan
dal.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Why, they are both listening with
out interrupting.”—Life.
A Useful Art.
“Of course,” said oue old farmer to
the other, “your boy is learniu’ Latin
and Greek at college, but is he gettin’
anything practical?”
“Ob, yes. In tbe last letter hew'rit
he tells me he is takin’ lessons in fenc
in’.” —Detroit Free Press.
Endowed With Reason.
Professor—“ Where did you acquire
the information that microbes possess
a high order of intelligence?”
Student—“lt is a deduction of my
own.”
Professor—“ From wliat?”
Student—“ From their being found
in kisses.”—Puck.
The Little Critic.
“Why, papa,” said Frances, who
w’as looking at tbe album; “surely this
isn’t a picture of you?”
“Yes,” -replied papa; “that is a
picture of me, taken when I w’as quite
young.”
“Well,” commented the little girl,
“it doesn’t look as much like you as
you look now.”—Harper’s Bazar.
Computation.
“What I want,” said the man who
was talking about taking a flat, “is
some place where the rooms are big
enough for me to turn around in. ”
“Certainly,” replied the agent.
“That can be easily arranged, as you
are not an unusually large man. Stand
up, please, and let me get your exact
measurement,” —Washington Star.
What Ho Needed.
Mr. Woodware —“That young fel
low you have in your office is the most
conceited puppy I ever ran across. ”
Mr. Queensware—“Yes, I know;
but you must remember he is young
yet, and his character is not fully
formed. He has never been tried by
fire.”
Mr. Woodware—“Then 1 yoiTd bet
ter fire him.”—New York Weekly.
Expensive Diet.
“No, I can make you no contribu
tion. I don’t believe in sending out
foreign missionaries.
“But the Scriptures command us to
feed the hungry.”
The man of wealth shrugged his
shoulders.
“Well, I’d feed them something
cheaper than missionaries,” he re
joined, with the brusquerie that char
acterizes his class. —Detroit Journal.
.“It is a Wise '.Father,*' Etc.
A certain learned professor in New
York has a wife and family, but, pro
fessor-like, his thoughts are always
with his liooks.
jgJOne evening his wife, who had been
out for some hours, returned to find
the house remarkably quiet. She had
left tho children playing about, but
now they were nowhere to be seen.
She demanded to be told what had
become of them, and the professor
explained that, as they had made a
good deal of noise, he had put them
to bed without waiting for her or call
ing a maid.
“I hope they gave you no trouble,”
she said.
“No,” replied the professor, “with
the exception of the one in the cot
here. He objected a good deal to my
undressing him and putting him to
bed.”
The wife went, to inspect the cot.
“Why,” Bhe exclaimed, “that’s lit
tle Johnny Green, from next door.”—
Pittsburg Dispatch.' 1
HORSE_J3ELLS.
I love to Ho anil listen to tile horse-bells'
merry snuudl.
When the cattle aro In camp, and we out
stretched upon the ground;
There is music In the horse-hells, auil
love to hear their song,
As they join in happy chorus—
Tiiiklel Tonklo! Tankle! Tong!
They tonltle through the lirigalow; thoy
t ankle near the swamp;
They tinkle on the ridges, and they wraa
glo round tho camp;
There’s little Fairy’s tlmble-bell, and
Billy’s bullfrog strong.
And big and little lifeud in
Tinkle! Tonklel Tnuklel Tong!
The great moon glares nbovo; in eamp tho
cattle rest content;
It is n pleasure just to live, as with tho
wattle scent
The soft breeze brings tho music of the
horse-bells’ merry song,
Soothing ever and repeating
Tinkle! Tonkle! Tankle! Tong!
—Sydney (Australia) Bu lie.in.
PITH AND POINT.
No man ever got a dollar’s worth of
experience for ninety cents. —Life.
Cholly —“I don’t think the photo
grapher caught me expwesssion, do
you?” She—“l don’t see any.”—
Puck.
Belle —“Why do you refer to your
engagement as limited? Is it limited
in point of time?” Editb--“Ni>;
limited to George and me.” —Judge.
Miss Askins—“l’m sure you had a
fine time with all those young ladies
at the sea-shore.” Toodles—“Not
very good. There was another man
there.”—Puck.
A St. Louis girl has married a man
who saved her from drowning. And
yet some authorities contend that the
female sex is capable of gratitude.—
Buffalo Express.
“Don’ go by fuse impression,” said
Uncle Eben. “Whah’d folks be now if
de man dat diskivered de oystuh
hadn’t stopped ter pry open de shell?”
—Washington Star.
Warwick—“l think Alaska would
make an elegant summer resort.”
Wickwire — “Ah, you have been read
ing about the climate!” Warwick—
“No, the prices.” —Truth.
“Clever lightuing-change artist,
isn’t he?” “Can’t hold a caudle to my
wife. She can change her mind twenty
times in twenty seconds without
leaving the room.” —Cleveland Plain-
Dealer.
“She says she has remained single
from choice.” “That’s right. I
wouldn’t undertake to say whose choice
it was, but the broad, general state
ment is unquestionably true.”—Chi
cago Post.
Mrs. Greene—“l suppose you miss
your husband a great deal?” The
Bereaved One—“Ob, yes. It seems
so strange not to have to leave tho gas
burning for somebody when you go to
bed.”—Boston Transcript.
Wife—“We have been married
twelve years and not once have I
missed baking you a cake for your
birthday. Have I, dear?” Hubby —
“No, my pet. I can look back upon
those cakes as milestones in my life.”
—Standard.
Mrs. Gabb—“Yes; my daughter ap
pears to have been married very
happily. Her husband has not wealth,
it must be admitted, but he has
family.” Mrs. Gadd—“Yes; I t heard
he was a widower with six children.”
—New York Weekly.
Charlie Mariner (describing a canoe
race —“The course was awfully chop
py, and, after standing for a while oa
the starboard tack, I went over on to
the port tack ” Miss Tandem (in
terrupting)—“Oh, how badly you
must have been punctured!”
“I don’t know what this country is
coming to!” exclaimed the pessimist.
“You are on the wrong track,” replied
the official, as he signed an order keep
ing out an anarchist- “The thing to
worry about is what is coming to this
country. ’’—Washington Star.
“You know that saying. ‘Let me
make the songs of a Nation and I care
not who makes its laws?’ ” “Yes;
what of it?” “It ought tobe amended
to read: ‘Let me make the laws of a
Nation and I’ll put in jail half the peo
ple who make its songs.’ ” —Cleveland
Record.
When One Can Work Beat.
At what hour of the day is a man at
his strongest, and so fitted to do hard
work with the least weariness? Prob
ably the answer occurring at once to
most persons would be, “When he gets
up in the morning.” This is by no
means tbe case; on the contrary, ac
cording to experiments of Dr. Buch
with the dynamometer, a man is pre
cisely at his weakest when he turns
out of bed. Our muscular force is
greatly increased by breakfast, but it
attains to its highest point after the
midday meal. It then sinks for a few
hours, rises again towards evening,
but steadily declines from night till
morning. The two chief foes of mus
cular force, according to Dr. Buch,
are overwork and idleness. Sweating
at work deteriorates the muscles.
Many of the great workers of the world
have been early risers. But early ris
ing, according to Buch’s doctrine,
ought always to be supplemented by
early breakfasting.—London Star.
A Skeleton 111 livery Cupboard.
Conan Doyle tells a story of a friend
of bis who had often been told that
there is a skeleton in the cupboard of
every household, uo matter how
respectable that household may be,
and he determined to put this opinion
to a practical test. Selecting for tho
subject of his experiment a veueralde
arch-deacon of the church, against
whom tbe most censorious critic had
never breathed a word, he went to the
nearest postoffice and dispatched this
telegram to the reverend gentleman:
“All is discovered. Fly at once.”
The arch-deacon disappeared and has
never been heard of since.—Conan
Doyle.
Cirasß Paving Blocks.
Paving blocks made of meadow
grass are now manufactured. Their
inventor was a clergyman, aud tho
meadow' grass, impregnated with oil.
tar and resin, is pressed into blocks
and finally bound with iron straps.
The advantage claimed for these
blocks is that they are noiseless and
elastic, resist wear well and are im
pervious to heat and cold.
Volcanic Lore.
The volcanoes of Vesuvius and Etr.a
are never both active at the same time.