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■WILLING HANDS.
Thank God for the williug hand*
That are honest, and brave, and true,
That lay not folded, but labor hard
To do wliat there is to do.
Rich gems of the world are they,
Where Fancy is drown’d in fact,
Where Time is a thing ot reality,
And to live is to think and act.
Thank God for the williug hands
That are gentle, and soft, and kind
That quiver not at sight of iain.
But are ready the wounds to bind.
Whose gift is a gift of love
More precious than tongue can tell
That lingers light on a rafFrer’s brow
Till he sleepeth, and “doeth well.”
AUNT ABBIE’S SALVE.
BY HASDAI.!, AYLMER.
Tom Gordon sat in his owu porch,
smoking a pipe. It sounds comfortable
when read in this brief sentence, but Tom
Gordon was as far from comfortable as
a man well can }>c, short of absolute tor
ture.
Iu the first place, the porch was a
rickety, tumble-down affair outside of
the shabbiest of little cottages, and the
destruction of a great cotton factory at
B had thrown Tom and his only
child, pretty Hattie Gordon, both out of
employment. For two monlhs they had
managed to live on the tiny nest egg
Hattie had saved, hut that was nearly
gone, and Tom's (heap tobacco would
not give smoke enough to hide the des
titution staring him in the face. Worst
of all, Tom was musing over an encounter
with and old friend, who had gouo up
the ladder of fortune somewhat faster
than Tom had come down.
“Poor girl I” he mused, puffing away
in a slow, disconsolate manner, “what
ever she’ll say, Ido not know. To think
of John Ingraham going back on me, iu
that way.”
“Father 1”
He started violently as a sweet voice
spoke, and a gentle baud touehml his
shoulder.
“Yes, my darliug,” he said, uneasily
shifting his eyes, as he dreaded to meet
the blue ones of his own Child.
“I had a letter from Harry this after
noon. and 1 want to read it to you.' 1
“Yes, yes, dear.”
“He writes:
'■ ‘I have not niteyed my own father, llattic,
when he forbade my loving you, but what
can I say when your father forbids ma the
house! I know you too well to hope you will
consent to meet mo secretly, but I will never
give you up unless you tell me you have
ceased to love me. I have no money, except
from my father, but I mean to idle no longer.
When I can give yon a home, over so
humble a one, I shall come to you, and 1
know you will las true to me. Remember,
till death, I am your betrothed husband, lov
ing you, working lor you.’
“Father, why have you forbidden him
the house?”
“Hattie, come round here to your old
place on the arm of my chair. "Look in
my face, dear, and fell me if you believe
your father loves you?”
The tenderest of kisses fell upon his
trembling lips, the sweetest of voices an
swered :
“I know you love me, father.”
“And I told your true love to come
here no more. For why, Hattie ? John
lugruhum and I were apprentices iu the
same shop more than thirty years back,
Hattie, always the best of friends till lie
made a better thing of life than I did,
and got rich. But we never had any
quarrel, Hattie, until to-day, when ho
said we were tricking his boy into a low
marriage. He said such things as 1
couldn’t hear said or you, nohow, and
so I told him his son couldn’t conn here
uo more. We are very poor, Hattie 1”
“Yes, father.”
“And with uo prospect ahead."
“None.”
* But we ain’t quite so low down as to
encourage the boy, when bis father will
turn against him.”
“No, father; you are right. lie must
eomc no mow-.”
She was sobbing a moment later, but
it was in her father's arms, with his tcu
der kisses pressed upon her bowed head,
and his voice, shaking with emotion,
cheering her by loving words.
The twilight was almost gone, and
still these two were sitting clasped
in each other’s arms, when a childish
voice cried.
“Oh, Miss Gordon, please!” And
Hattie went to meet the intrudor.
She was gone some moments, coming
back quite her cheerful self again.
“What was it, dear?”
“One of my Sunday-school children.
Her brother has scalded himself, and she
came for some of Aunt Abbie's Salve.”
“Will it do any good?”
“I hope so. Indeed, I feel quite sure
of it. You know mother gave it uwav a
great deal, and always kept a supply
made up: and I never knew it to fail to
heal bums, scalds, bruises or cuts.”
“Hattie, are you sure?”
“Yes.” * -
“And can you make it?”
“I have made hundreds of boxes.”
“To give away?”
“Yes. I only stipulate to have the
box returned, for the tiu box costs more
than the salve. That is cheap. Twcnty
five cents will buy ,~U 1 need for fifty
boxes.”
“Hattie! our fortune is made! I never
thought about that salve, but I mind mow
your Aunt Abbie was always bragging of
it. How much money have we got, Hat
tie!”.
“Only five dollars.”
“That will do for a start.”
' It seemed very little to start anything,
but Tom Gordou was a mau of whom hit.
companions said, “he was all there;" and
he had formed his plans with lightning
rapidity. Honest as daylight, he would
have scorned to use any fraud in trade;
but Aunt Abbie’s Salve would do what it
engaged to do, so liis conscience was
clear. Already the generous use of it.
hail established its reputation in the little
town, and the Gordons being- popular,
there were many purchasers a- soon a
it was known thort “Tom Gordon was
going to try to make a bring out <>f that
stuff that cured Tom, Dick and Harry's
burns, bruises or cuts.” It was a bless
ing to Hattie, for Harry Irgrafcacr. after
writing his farewell letter, was seen no
more, and many a heartache and crying
spell was kept in subjection by the ne
cessity for making salve to meet an
order.
Five years passed away, and one morn
ing Hattie Gordon, coming to breakfast,
saw that something was troubling her
father. She crossed the room quickly
and took her old place upon the arm of
his chair. But they looked but little like
the same couple in the same position on
the rickety old porch. The breakfast
room was one of many luxurious apart
ments in the country residence of Thomas
Gordon, Esq., and the proprietor him
self, in his gentlemanly attire, looked
every inch a prosperous man. I cannot
say that Hattie was very much prettier
at tweuty-thrcc than she had been at
eighteen, but her dainty morning dress of
white lawn, with rose pink ribbons, cer
tainly was more becoming than the very
often washed calico that was her usual
morning wear when she worked in the
factory and was her own servant ut
home.
For Aunt Abbie's Salve had proved a
success, and Hattie no longer needed to
touch her slender fingers to the hundreds
auil thousands of boxes that passed from
the “laboratory” of Thomas Gordon’s
warehouse, to cities far away and near,
bringing an income that met the ex
penses of the country seat and city house,
horses, carriages, expensive dresses and
jewelry, and yet left huge nest eggs for
“rainy days.”
Society had long before opened its
arms to Hattie, who was pretty and re
iined, although she could not play the
piano or converse in any language but
her own. There had been more than
; one heart laid at her pretty feet, but Hat
' tic was sure Harry would comeback, and
; was well content to wait for him.
She was no love-sick, pining girl,
i grieviug always for happiness missed,
! but a healthy, sensible woman, who
lifted the cup of prosperity to grateful
i lips, and iu draining it, forgot not to
1 share bountifully with those less for
j t unate.
It was rare in those days to see a
shadow on Tom Gordon's cheerful face,
and so Hattie, perched upon the arm of
his chair, was a little troubled, too, as
she asked •
“What is the matter?”
“Well, dear, I’ve got n letter that
troubles me, and that’s a fact.”
“Business?”
“Oh, no, bless you! Business is that
good, it just about takes care of itself.
No, it is u letter from—well, dearie,
from John Ingraham!”
Two soft little hands took Tom’s
cheeks into captivity, while a little flut
tering kiss fell on his forehead.
“Yes, dearie, I know! You love me
fond and true, but you’ve not forgot
Harry! Well, my treasure, if your pride
wants a gratification you can give it one
now. Harry, he’s been to Californy, a’
working good, 1 guess, and he made a
fortin!”
“Yes?”
“But,” said Tom, rubbiug his head,
“he lost it again! And then he was very
sick, nigh dead, I guess, uml some of his
friends out there just li'Etcd him aboard
a vessel when he didn’t know what was
going on around him, and fetched him
home. Now, dearie, if you are going to
cry like that, I’ll have to stop.”
But he did not, although Hattie had
slipped down into his lap, and was hid
ing her face on his shoulder, and crying
like a child.
“I guess he was well loved out there,
for these fellows brought Him to his
father’s, though ho was weak as a child
yet, and must have been a great care on
the voyage. And so, there he is, and his
father writes to me to beg I’ll let you sec
him. Mind you, it’s his father writes,
for Harry’s that spunky, sick as he is,
that he dou’t want you to know he has
come back as poor as he went, away. Ho
if yon owe .John Ingraham a grudge, you
can just pay him. He’s lost money,
Hattie, a good deal of money, I know',
or he’d never eat humble pie in this
fashion.”
“You will go with me, father?"
“H’m! So you mean to go?"
“You know I would. Think of it,
father, five years of hard work, and Harry
never had to work before! Five years,
when he might have been at home, in his
lather’s favor if he would give mo up.
And now, lie will wait for me to speak,
because we are rich! Money is hateful!”
“I>o you think so, dearie?”
“No, I don’t. Money is lovely. It
gives you every comfort, and it will
smooth my way to Harry. You won’t be
cross to us ?”
“Was I ever cross to you?”
“Never, never, never! Now I will
ring for breakfast, and order the carriage
for the 11:30 train. Don’t—don’t you
I think the pure, sweet air here might be
good for an iuvalid?”
“You ought to know, as you have had
Ia free hospital here ever since 1 bought
I the house.”
“Now, father, you know you were as
pleased as I was, when we could give
the poor girls who work so hard where I
once worked, a little holiday.”
Tom Gordon did not deny the. charge,
and was quiet ready to joiu Hattie,wheu.
in the most bewitching of walking
dresses, and a coquettish hat, she came
to the carriage. She was very pale,
though, and not quite her cheery self,
when the two entered the parlor of John
Ingraham's house. The proud, self-suf
ficient man of five years before was hum
ble enough as he canto to meet them.
“I was sure you would come,” he
said. “lie is very weak to-day; does
not get his strength at all. 1 told him
you were comiug. Torn, he i- in the
room adjoining ihi; 1 fitted it up for
him. May Hattie go in, while you stay
with me?”
Tom made a sigu of assent. Ii gave
him a choking -ensatiou to see his old
friend’s anxious, pleading face, and Hat
tie’s white cheeks. Ho, trying not to
tremble, Hattie opened the door of the
nest room and went iu. In au arm chair
near the w indow wa a gaunt, hollow
eyed, emaciated man, looking eagerly to
w srd her.
Her heart seemed to stop .beating.
Could that be the hendseime, bri^-e
young fellow whose arm had held het
once and again with the strong clasp o!
protecting manhood?
“Hattie,” he said, feebly, “have yoc
indeed come to say farewell! It was all
a failure, dear.”
In a moment her womanhood asserted
itself. The pale cheeks flushed, the soft
eyes brightened, and stepping lightly
across the floor, she put both little hands
upon the emaciated on Harry’s lap, while
her sweet lips met hi own in a lingering
kiss.
“I never bade you good-bye, Harry,
even when you left me, and now I say
welcome home. My love! my love! how
could you stay away so many years?”
“I heard of your prosperity, and I
wanted to come home rich—not the beg
gar I am.”
“I was the beggar when you wrote
‘till death I am your betrothed hus
band.’ And,” she continued, brightly,
seeing that he was not able to bear
emotion, “I have the letter ready for a
‘breach of promise’ case if you do not
keep your engagement. Father!"
Tom Gordon answered the call briskly.
There was much discussion, some feeble
remonstrance, but the doctor highly ap
proving of the change of air, arrange
ments were speedily made for a journey,
the most important of which arrange
ments was the performance of the mar
riage ceremony in the back parlor, after
which Mrs. Henry Ingraham took com
mand of the invalid in a manner ap
palling to the most energetic “woman’s
rights” female.
But it was a very happy family which
settled down at last iu the pleasant home
that was the result of sales of “Aunt
Abbie’s Salve.” —The Ledyer.
Sold His Whiskers.
Displaying a double handful of shears
and scissors, a peddler walked into a
Vine street store and tried to induce the
clerk behind the counter to buy a sample
of his wares.
The itinerant merchant was remarkable
because of an immense mustache that
flapped in the cool night air from his
upper lip. It was very carefully trained,
and protruded on either side of his face
for several inches. Then, too, he had a
pronounced French accent. Just as he
turned away a gentleman who had been
leaning over the counter perusing a paper
suddenly faced about, and, taking a look
at the peddler, remarked: “I’ll give
you two dollars if you will let me cut off
those whiskers! And I’ll buy a pair of
shears in the bargain!”
“Two dollaire if I’ll let you cut off my
weiskaire?” repeated the peddler.
“That’s what I said,” returned the gen
tleman of the strange fancy.
The peddler studied for an instant and
cheerfully remarked:
“Z e gentle-man can cut off my
whiskuire for two dollars. Allons!”
Producing a two-dollar bill the whisker
destroyer laid it on the counter, and
selecting a pair of scissors, calmly pro
ceeded to cut off the luxuriant hirsute
growth in little snips as though he
wished to get full value for his money.
The peddler bore the operation just as
calmly, holding his head forward that
the hair might fall on the counter and
not on his vest. Not a sound escaped him
during the strange operation, and when
the scissors ceased their work and were
laid down in order that the money might
be handed over, ho simply remarked:
“Ze gcutlc-mau have finish?”
When he had folded a silver quarter,
the price of the scissors, within the two
dollar bill, the price of his mustache, he
bowed politely, saying: ‘ ‘Merci! lam
ver’ much oblige,” complacently strode
out ami walked into the next store on
his mercantile round. He was followed
out by the gentleman of the peculiar
taste. Neither looked at the other,
the peddler going north and the
mustache-destroyer south. Both ap
peared to be perfectly sitisfied. The
severed mustache was kept by the clerk
as a memento of the strangest incident
that he ever witnessed. Cincinnati En
quirer.
A Remarkable Fish Story.
What will always be regarded as a re
markable and seemingly-impossible thing
has developed at lvtdora, lowa. John
Webster and a number of companions
went down to the lowa River for a few
days’ fishing. They cut holes in the ice,
and with long spears impaled the fish as
they came up to breathe. One magnifi
cent pike, of the wall-eyed variety, was
speared by Webster, and it was decided
to broil it for dinner. Upon cutting it
open the surprise of the fishermen was
intense when a good-sized pocketbook
was found within the fish. In the book
was found $65 in gold, sls in silver,s2s
in greenbacks, H'lo,ooo in bouds. and a
certificate of deposit for $25 on a baukat
Johnstown, Penn., lately devastated by
flood.
A piece of paper was also found on
which was w ritten a statement, that the
owner of the book and contents was
John J. Jones, of Johnstown, Penn.
There is no doubt that the fish was in the
Conemaugh cn the fatal night of the flood
and swallowed the book as it fell from
the pocket of Mr. Jones, w ho, it is sup
posed, perished. The fish then wended
its way down the Conemaugh into the
Allegheny, and thence into the Ohio
River, down the Ohio into the Missis
sippi, and thence up the Father of
Waters into the lowa River,where it was
finally caught.
The facts are vouched for by reputable
parties. —New York Timet.
The Emperor's Bread.
The German Emperor is fond ot variety,
even in such small matters as bis daily
bread. Thus he takes for breakfast a
small white loaf, the top of which is
pow-dered ovqj with salt, and which ac
cordingly goes by the name of salt bun.
After it he consumes a half-penny bun,
known as the “Lucca-eye.” For his
sandwiches he requires yet another kind
of bread, made of the finest Vienna tlonr,
and baked till the outside, which is af
terward cut off, is quite black. At din
ner, with the soup, so-called “broth
sticks,” are served. They are made aftt*
an Dalian recipe, which is the secret “J
♦aeccnrt baker?.— CMsag* Hcrf.J
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROI'B SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES
The Secret of the Roses—The Tears He
Shed—The Usual Way—Circum
stances Alter Cases— Con
jugal Love, Etc., Etc.
Truth! she made a pretty pictur.
Hitting there beside the fire;
In her hand are crimson roses—
Dare I breathe my heart’s desire
To that hand now I aspire.'
As she holds my gift—the roses—
Does she for their meaning seek?
Maiden, do not, for their story
Makes me -ad. To me they speak
Of no salary next week!
—Time.
UNSATISFACTORY.
The Butcher—“ Did you tell Mr. Gore
that his bill has been running for a long
time?”
Collector—“ Yes, sir.”
The Butcher—“ What did he say?”
Collector—“He said: ‘For heaven’s
sake, let it stand a little while.’ ” — Life.
THE USUAL, WAY.
“Who is that man over there?” said
one traveling man to another, directing
his attention to a gentleman who devotes
his energies principally to booming ex
positions and so on.
“He i3 a promoter.”
“What does he promote?”
“His own interests, principally.”—
Merchant Traveler.
IT PLEASED HIM.
“Can you give me a front room on the
first floor?” asked a traveling man of the
recently installed hotel clerk.
“Can I give it to you?”
“Yes; that’s what I remarked.”
“That’s queer,” said the clerk, with a
self-complacent smile, “you’re the fourth
man to-day who thought I owned this
hotel.” —Merchant Traveler.
DENTAL NOTE.
Stranger—“ Where does that new den
tist have his office?”
Policeman—“You mean the one who
pulls teeth without pain?”
Stranger— 1 ‘Yes. ”
Policeman—“Go right around the
corner. You will have no trouble find
ing his office. You can hear his patients
yell half a block away.” —Texas Siftings.
THE TEARS HE SHED.
Father—“ Aha, so you ran away from
Sunday-school to go skating and broke
through the ice, did you?”
Son—“No, I didn’t. I fell asleep in
church and got locked in.”
Father—“But how did you get so
wet?”
“Son—“ That’s from the. tears I shed
when I waked up. ” —-ijinyhauUun licyub
lican.
BLOOD WILL TELL.
Phyllis (sotto voice) —“Why don’t you
acknowledge his courtly salutation, Dor
othy? Is it because his father was iu
soap?”
Dorothy (in whispered warmth) —
“Yes, my family traditions are against
cultivating such an acquaintance.”
“Pardon me, dearest, I did not mean
to wound you. But were all your ances
tors tramps.”— Mumey's Weekly.
A LACK OF HARMONY.
Lady—-“ Here! come back. You
promised to saw that wood when I gave
you your diuner.”
Tramp—“ Madame, I am obliged to
break my promise. The saw you gave
me produced a G sharp tone, which does
not harmonize with my favorite song iu
F, which I always sing when working.
Either the saw or my voice must be
changed before I can work.”— Lawrence
American.
CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES.
First Neighbor—“ Why did you 9hoot
my dog?”
Second Neighbor—“ Because he tried
to bite me?”
“You need not have shot him. You
could have pushed him off with the butt
end of your gun.”
“Well, if your dog wanted to be
3hoved with the butt end of my gun, he
should have come at me tail end first.”—
'Texas Siftings.
HER DUTY.
Evelyn—“l have looked the matter
over from all sides. Jack offers me a
fortune and Charley has nothing but his
brains.”
Charlotte—“l suppose you will take
the one you love the best.”
Evelyn—“l have tried to be fair to
each iu discovering my duty, and have
about concluded that I can take better
care of Jack’s money than of Charley’s
brains, ” — Judge.
CONJUGAL LOVE,
Wife—“Oh, my dear! don’t go in that
boat. You risk your life!"
Husband—“No, darling, don’t be
afraid.”
“Heavens! how wretched I am! If
you should drown! You are so awk
ward!”
“Let me alone, Helen. I kuowthesea
and it knows me.”
“Very well, dear. At least leave me
your watch and chain.”— Wasp.
NOT TO BE BALKED.
Ogee upon a time iu a theatre the
heavy tragedian liad forgotten his dagger
and only discovered its absence in the
•tabbing scene. Equal to the occasion,
he threw himself upon the villain of the
piece and cried:
‘ Die, wretch! I would have stabbed
thee to thy wicked heart had I not left
my dagger iji my chamber. But thou
shalt not escape, as T propose to strangle
thee in the pretence ot this honorable
assembly. ” — Judge.
CHEAT IMPROVEMENT
Captain Jasmin who o*ed a bill is •
neighboring town, was drawn on through
the bank.
“What’s this?” he asked the collector.
“It’s a draft for fifty dollars.”
“The first one I ever saw. Now,
they get ’em up in good shape, don t
they? Well, sir, there has been a big
improvement in such things since I could
first remember. When I was a boy
circus bills were mere daubs of red ink,
but now look at ’em.”
“Are you going to pay this draft?’
“Oh, I don’t want it. Tell that feller
that I am much obliged for the kind at
tention he has shown me, but that I can
not afford to pay so large a price for
such a small piece of paper. Good-day.'
' —Arkansas Traveler.
POMPOSITY REBUKED.
It was at one of the big, fashionable
churches. The haughty usher looked
rather disdainfully at the shabby-apnear
ing little man who stepped toward him,
and without bestowing a second glance,
raised an imperious finger, motioned for
ward and started pompously toward the
amen corner.
The whole congregation noticed the
pompous usher as he strode down the
aisle, and a number thought his action
rather strange. When he reached a poor,
undesirable seat, almost around a corner,
the usher turned and motioned again, but
the little man wasn’t there.
The usher looked a bit fooled as he
glanced over the congregation, and he
turned clear around again to see if the
little man wasn’t behind him. And he
wasn’t. He had slipped into a rear sent
at the moment the pompous usher began
his forward march. — Puck.
A TOKEN OP ESTEEM.
As the train stopped at a station about
thirty miles west of Indianapolis we
noticed an unusually large crowd on the
depot platform, and it was evident that
speechmaking had been indulged in and
that somebody of note was taking his de
parture. We soon discovered that this
person was a certain Colonel Blank, who
came into the car with a package under
his arm, and whose cheeks were wet with
farewell tears. lie called “Good-by 1”
a score of times from the window, and as
the train finally rolled on he blew his
nose, wiped his eyes and turned to us
with:
“Gentlemen, it touches the heart
strings to part with old friends and neigh
bors.” -
“You are saying farewell, then?”
“Yes. lam going up to Indianapolis
to reside. The field here is too limited,
as I have discovered after ten years’ resi
dence.”
“Well, it is certainly pleasant to part
from friends the way you have.”
‘ ‘lndeed, it is! Over two hundred of
the best people in town came down to see
me off, and the President of the bank
! made a beautiful speech.wished me every
| success, and all that, and then handed
me this as a token of respect and es
teem.”
‘ ‘Ah 1 Made you a present, eh! Evi
dently something nice?”
“Bound to be,” replied the Colonel,
as he took a package from the seat.
“Perhaps you don’t want to reveal the
I contents here?”
“Oh, I have no objections. We’il
undo it and see what they have given
j me.”
He carefully untied the string and re
moved the several papers which wrapped
the precious memento, and lo! there was
exposed to our gaze a—sponge! Y'es,sir;
a great big bath sponge, which never
! cost less than a dollar! We pressed for
ward to see it, and the Colonel turned
red and white by turns, bit his lips, and
bobbed about on the scat, and as we
held our breaths he burst out with:
“Gentlemen, heartstrings be blowed!
! The onery, thieving, loafing, lying
j crowd have gone and heaped a deadly
| insult upon me, and the nex't two hun
i dred and fifty years of my life shall be
| devoted to wading in human blood clear
| up to the top vest button!” —New Tori
\ Sun.
Born Without Hands or Feet.
The little village of Walker's Mills,
distant fourteen miles from Pittsburg,
boasts a citizen whose peculiarities of
make-up, or rather lack of make-up,
have excited no small degree of curi
osity among the residents in this vicinage.
The child, according to the account in
the Pittsburg Dispatch, is sixteen months
old, and was ushered into the world
without hands or feet. Otherwise it is
perfect in shape of head and body, and
possesses great good nature and spright
liness. Its mother, Mrs. James O’Con
nell, is a woman of thirty-two years of
age and a marvel of physique and robust
health, weighing probably a hundred and
sixty-five pounds, and the father is a
hale, hearty quarryman.
In an interview with Mrs. O'Connell
she stated that at its birth they had no
hopes of its living, though in body it
was about the size of the average child,
and it was therefore christened the same
day. “The little fellow,” she said, “has
grown steadily, and has really been less
troublesome than either of my four other
children, w hom you see, though they are
all healthy and strong young ones. I
sometimes place him on the floor, and he
will follow me to different parts of the
room by rolling over and over. The pro
prietor of a museum was here and offered
$25 a week for the privilege of exhibit
ing him. but the offer was declined.”
The right leg is about ten inches in
length, the left several inches shorter;
both stubs have the appearance of limbs
which had undergone amputation. The
arms extend probably two inches below
the elbow joints, both of which work
uaturally. and on the left stub if a quite
well-defined thumb joint terminating in
a nail-like shape. He takes great de
light in looking at picture-books, and
turns the leaves with great ease. He can
take up a spoon or turn a saucer over
when lying on its face. Hi- keen, bright
eyes and unusually well-shaped head de
note the promise of more than the aver
age intellect.
J. A. bteinmetz, w hile gunning near
Downington, Penn shot the four lejs
eg a rabbit.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
The higher the flight the greater the
fall.
The man who dares is the man who
win3.
No thoroughly occupied man was ever
yet very miserable.
Our greatest good and what we can
least spare is hope.
After all, the joy of success does not
equal that which attends ths patient
worker.
If thou art wise thou knowe3t thine
own ignorance, and thou art ignorant if
thou knowest not thyself.
Instruction ends in the school-room,
but educations ends only in life, A child
is given to the universe to educate.
Schiller says: “Labor is the poo.
man’s pride; success by toil aloue is won.
Kings glory in their possessions wide;
we glory in our work well done.”
What anew courage puts on
everything! A determined man, by his
very attitude and tone of his voice, puts
a stop to defeat and begins to’conquer.
Music touches every key of memor.
and stirs all the hidden springs of sov
row and of joy. We love it for w'hat. it
makes us forget, and for what it makes
us remember.
Shipping Cattle From New York.
For some months past the freight paic
for carrying a steer from New Y'ovk tc
Deptford has been over S2O. When i‘
is remembered that a ship can carry a.
many steers as emigrants, that the emi
grants are carried at $lB a head, and
that the emigrants have to be cared foi
and fed by the ship, while the owner m
the cattle cares for and feeds them, the
profit of the cattle-carrying trade is ap
parent. There is every inducement for
the agent to take on as many cattle as he
can make room for. Every foot of space
on the upper deck is crowded with them.
The main deck is fitted with stalls and
filled. If enough cattle are offered the
orlop deck is also fitted with stalls. The
cattle in the aggregate weigh many tons.
In addition a good many tons of hay,
strarv and corn must be carried for food.
When the ship leaves port she has a pret
ty good deck load on. When she
strikes a cyclone whirling along up the
Gulf Stream she is crank enough to roll
like a Dutch galliot. The skipper must
hold his course, for if he doesn’t the feed
for the cattle will run short. It is not
only possible, but it has actually hap
pened, that as she rolls along the big
waves come over the rail and pour down
the open hatches. The hatches cannot
be closed, for if they are the cattle will
smother. Every ton of water taken in
sinks her deeper and increases the possi
bility of the destruction of the ship. The
English insurance companies can tell t
very interesting story of losses in cattle,
but the fact that it cost $2 a head to in
sure a steer against sea risks shows how
great those risks are. The tramps that
could not earn running expenses three
years ago arc now loading down with
grain in the lower hold and cattle on al!
available decks, regardless of the season
of the year and the risk of sinking the
ship. If she goes down, it's a sale of a
bad ship to the insurance companies, anu
as for the crew, the owner hopes they
will go to heaven and be forever free
from the trials and temptations of a sin
ful world. —New York Sun.
A Horse's Jealousy.
Next to men, horses are probably th*
most conceited beings in the world
Every day one sees conclusive proof of it.
And horses are jealous, too. Everybody
w T ho has had anything to do with them
will tell you that.
A hundred persons saw a little proof
of equine jealousy and conceit not very
many days ago at the 110th street en
trance to the Central Park. Two gentle
men were riding together. One of them
rode a magnificent coal-black Kentucky
thoroughbred. The other horse, though
a fine animal, seemed like a cart horse
w'hen compared with the Kentucky ani
mal, and he seemed to be conscious of it
too. f
The Kentucky horse strode in majestic
sweeps. The other horse sluuk along in
a sulky fashion, as if envious of every ad
miring glance cast at the other, and cast
ing sidelong looks every now and then at
his companion, and with every look be
coming more and more painfully aware
of his own shortcomings. Suddenly with
out a moment’s warning he took the
reins iu his mouth, pranced slightly
ahead, and gave the Kentucky horse two
vicious kicks.
His iron hoofs grazed the legs of the
rider and left two great marks on the
magnificent thoroughbred. Then ho
seemed to be in better humor with him
self. And it has done the other good,
for his master avers that since that day,
when compelled to trot alongside a less
patrician member of the equine family,he
has held his head a little less high and
tempered his proud consciousness of supe
riority with a touch of gentlemanlike
deference toward his companion.— Nett
York Sun.
Wives Flogged and 31 aimed.
The positiou of women among tht
savages of Queensland, Australia, is i
very subordinate one. They are ex
pected to provide the daily food and sally
forth on long expeditions for this pur
pose. If the husband gathers game oi
lizards or such delicacies he keeps them
for himself, while his wife aud child
must subsist on vegetables and berries.
They frequently flog their wives brut
ally, and if she runs away to some out
more kind, the husband is privileged tc
maim her when he sees her. This it
what they call “marking” a woman.
Two wives is the usual matrimonial
equipment of a warrior, and some have
five or six. A girl is delivered over to
her husband when she is nine or ten
years old, aud as loug as they remain
young they are sure of good treatment.
Carl Lit mho! t*.
Only about one-fourth of the cheese
made in the United States is exported*
Some 3-00,000,000 pounds age used for
home consasrptioc.
TWO' "WAYS?
Oh, how does the rain come downti
With rattle and riot and rush l]
With flutter and sputter,
And gurgle and mutter,
And clatter and spatter and gusliYi
With a man outbursting and roaring,’
With fizzing and splashing and pouring?
And noise to deafen a town,
The turbulent rain comes down!
But after ’tis over an hour or rnoic,!
The world looks much as it did before}
And there’s nothing to show for the
roar
The rain made coming down.
But how does the snow come down*
With a touch like a soft wing’s brushy
With glancing and gliding,
And stealing and sliding,
With whiteness and lightness apd hush?
With airy floating and swimming.
With fairy boating and skimming! j
And no one in all the town
Would know when the snow comes downY|
If he looked not out on the changed white
day, 7
And the cushioned earth that seems to say)
How much can be done in a quiet way,
The way the snow comes down.
— Mrs. Cora W. Bronson, in Independent
PITH AID POINT; 1
\
A fat position—King of Greece. 1 '
A back number—The spinal
Washington Star.
The glazier’s occupation is a paneftt
one.— Merchant Traveler.
The burden of some arguments is sq
great that it makes the listeners tired,-3
Rome Sentinel.
The girl who has the strongest will ii
the girl who says the strongest won’t.-a
New York News. \
We suppose the ship heaves to out "oj
sympathy for the seasick
Binghamton Leader.
The man whose wits go wool-gathefj
ing is lucky if he doesn’t get
Brooklyn Magazine.
The stovepipe has no trouble in elbow*
ing its way through a crowded house.-3
Kearney Enterprise. ,
It must be painful to a girl, especially
when she means to say “Yes,” to hear a
stuttering man propose.
Perhaps one reason why fish are so (Iff*
ceptive as to weight is that they carry
their own scales with them.— Merchant
Traveler.
“Nothing was made in vain,” says the
proverb. But that’s not so for you can
find a maiden vain in five minutes any*
day.— Danseille Breeze.
The ring of a bell means a service ift
church, and the ring of a belle means the
same thing, unless the marriage takes)
place at home.— DanmUe Breeze.
There are lots of men who have at
tained high reputation ior strict atten
tion to business, but the trouble has
been it wasn’t their own business.
The girl of seventeen is always talking
about how very old she is, and seventeen
years later she is always talking abouf
how young she is.— Washington Star. ”*
A creature now and then we find *
Who losses and regains his mind;
But when a fish is once in seine
’Tis seldom he gets out again.
—Chicago Heraldi
Whipper—“ Our young friend Scadds
seems to have a great desire to shine in
society.” Snapper—“My idea is that
his ambition is to shin into society l”-J
Puck.
“Do you thiuk marriage is a failure*
Airs. Choker?” asked Mrs. Simeral of the
minister’s wife. “No, indeed!” was the
reply. “Mr. Choker gives me his fees
for pin-money.”— Bazar. J
Teacher (to dull boy of the class)—
“Which New England State has two
capitals?” Boy—“New Hampshire.”
Teacher—“lndeed! Name them?” Boy
—“Capital N and capital H.”
Charlie—“ Now, I like a girl who IS
open-hearted and frank in all things. 1
like a girl whom I can take at her word.”
Alollie (blushing)—“That’s what I’d like
to have you do.”— Kearney Enterprise. *
The gii'ls, since first the world began,
Have always sought th’ ideal man;
But when they captured their ideal
They found him more ideal than real. -
PucKL.
A steamboat has l eached the town ol
Timbuctoo in Africa, but in view of the
fact that it required six weeks to go
eight hundred miles it is not probable
that stock in the Timbuctoo Navigation]
Company will go much above one hun
dred in the shade.— Washington Star ,
Watchman (breathlessly)—“The boy’s!
dormitory is on fire, and if they find it
out they’ll stop to save their foot-balls,
bats, and things, and perish.” Board-j
ing School Principal (quickly)—“Notify)
the boys that all who are not down stairs
in two minutes won’t get any pie.”— New
York Weekly.
An irate old Scotchman, having ex-j
amined the barometer every morning foij
a week and found it declaring fair,
weather when it was a howling stora*
outside, suddenly seized the instrument,;
bore it out into the rain and yelled at it:
“Confound it, mon, canna see for yer<i
self ?”— San Francisco Chronicle.
Jlistakes of Burglars.
An enterprising burglar went a burglar s
ing the other day, got his “swag,” bunt
died it up, and then breaking into the
pantrv ate a hearty meal and went to
sleep, in which condition he was dis
covered and captured. People would
laugh at such a thing if put in a comi<3
opera or play, but it, creates little com-*
nieut when it actually occurs in real life.;
Some years ago an accident very like this
occurred. A safe blower broke into a
store and went to work on “the box. ,
It was in a back room, and he worked
very leisurely. Finally he forgot him
self and began whistling a right merry
tune in so loud a strain that a policeman
heard him aud, walking in, captured him
at work. There is another story that old
Sy cop; teli of a burglar breaking into a
house, opening a book, aud getting so in- 5
terested in a story that he was captured,
with his jimmy lying on the tablet.— St,
Ja-jtia Stor-'Scnjin'i/s. **