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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.