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FAST AND I.OOSK.
O bird, that lov'et the tree
AII on a summer day,
When the warm breeze flits free
That makes thy nest to be
On it* green branch asway—
Bird, when the sunbeams flee.
And green leaves from the tree,
What dost thou then? Oh, say
“I fly,away.”
O tree, that fair canst be
But on a summer day,
When the bird clings to thee
In thy green lovingly,
And thou and he are gay
Tree, when thy green leaves flee,
And the bird flees from the.;.
What dost thou then? Oh, say,
“Alas! I stay.”
—-View l'orfc Tribune.
Drama of Dunstable Farms.
nr DORA KKED OOODALK.
Having no special interests of my own,
and being of a somewhat observant habit
of mind, I was last summer a sympathetic
spectator of the little domestic experi
ence which I have called here the drama
of Dunstable Farms. I may even say
that I was a humble participant in it.
The heroino—but stop! the minor
characters • should appear first. Now
Patty, it must be confessed, is a Vninor
character. Enter Patty, then, first, with
her apron on, and her hair rolled up
smoothly under a round white cap r.ot
pretty at all,but wholesome and pleasant
to look on, and as satisfying for a long
journey as a lot of brown bread.
Dunstable Farms; you may have heard
of the place, where the family has
flourished and spread like a banyan grove
since William Dunstable planted himself
here in, 1 don t know* what, year of
grace. AH the land hereabout was
bought of the Indian tribes,the old deeds
signed with their “marks” being still in
the family archive*, so that it is the
Dunstable boa*t that their acres have
never been owned by any white man
bearing another name.
Hither, to “recruit,” on a notable
morning in May, when the roads had re
covered from the prolonged state of pros
tration which afflicts them in early
spring, came I—a spinster, reader, but
not too old a one to find young people
congeniul.
Patty met me at the station. Patty
drove me home and unharnessed the horse,
aDd afterward set the tabic and brought
out the sweetmeats for supper. Then she
superintended the carrying of my trunks
up a flight of back stairs which seemed
designed for the shaft of an elevator.
Patty was the active, the serviceable, the
delightful; there were five in the fam
ily now, she said—-her father, her
mother, herself, Nornh the cook, nnd
Stephen the hired man. I was to be the
only boarder.
This Stephen I immediately seized
upon as the villain of my piece, chiefly
because of his rough, shaggy head and
his solemn, inscrutable visage, which
looked as if he were revolving the dark
eat designs,although I could hear of none
worse than a great thirst for learning.
It was a democratic household, and Ste
phen had his seat at the lower end of
the table. He and Mr. Dunstable often
paused to discuss the care of the live
stock ami methods of tilling.
But I soon learned that there was an
other daughter, Eunice, the sixteen-year
old, and the clever one of the family.
There was always one head-piece among
tho Dunstable kin, said Patty, ingenu
ously, and she further informed me that
it was odd that Eunice should have come
into this family inheritance, because their
owu father was not the bright oue, of his
generation; but Eunice took after her
Uncle Erastus, she s’posed, who studied
at Middlefield College and went into the
ministry.
It was nil understood thing that the
most intelligent one, boy or girl, should
have good advantages, and when Eunice
carried oil the prize at a spelling-match,
while itill a small crea'ure in pinafores,
and in the. district school outstripped all
the cousins growing up at Dunstable
Farms, a family conclave was held. One
uncle contributed a heifer, another a
sheep,—they were land-poor, these Dun
stables, aud saw very few present dollars
in the course of a year,—and the girl
was sent flfty miles away to the Young
Ladies’ Seminary. This was two years
ago, and next year she would graduate.
I must own that my feelings received j
a shock on lirst seeing this bright
one, this Eunice, come three weeks later,
wheu Stephen lifted her and her trunks
from the ample farm-wagon. Whatever
the original material might be, the
veneer of boardhig-sehool life was dis
played to perfection. She wore a white
hat with some “style” about it, indeed,
but a very objectionable style, as it
seemed to me, nnd a pair of kid gloves
at least two sizes too small. She could
not have handled a fork in those gloves,
nor have held up her skirt, much less her ,
umbrella. Now Patty's best gloves were
of gray cotton, with lace-work wrists,
and sometimes, I ought to add, she wore
them when she saddled the horse.
It was hard to understand how any
girl could be at once so keen and so con
tradictory as Miss Eunice. She did not
seem to despise the farm, but professed
an ignorance of things pertaining to it .
which, it seemed to me, could not be j
genuine. She woulu dislike Stephen, I
supposed, as a common farm laborer, aud
he would lind her flue-lady airs ridicu- !
lous.
Alas, that even at thirty our wisdom
is baffled by these young folks at every I
turn! Miss Eunice treated Stephen with
good-natured indifference, while he, like
the the perverse fellow he was, chose to
treat her from the first as a kind of di
vinity.
She was given to studying geometry,
and biology, too; she spent whole fore
noons over tfie microscojie, dissecting
not only plants but fishes and mice, al
though Patty on no account would have
permitted her to joint up the chickens
for dinner. She was not an idle girl,
but full of activities rather, and yet she j
did nothing at ail to help in the house, |
except to trim over all Patty’s hats and j
rraodci most ol her dresses.
Stephen spent hi* evenings, alone and
remorse, ,in the kitchen, for Norah usu
llv sat in the porch; he was working
At hig books, they saii, though how he
could study after from ten to fourteen
hours in the field was a mystery to me.
One evening, when the lamps had
been lighted, Norah came in, a sheet of
brown paper, covered with diagrams, in
her hand, to say that Stephen was
“wantin’ to kDow if Mbs Eunice
wouldn’t just cast an eye over that, for
he couldn't mek out the throubie at all,
at all.”
Patty looked up, apprehensively, I
thought, for Stephen's requests some
times verged on the audacious, except
that they were made with so much
solemn unconsciousness; but Eunice took
the paper obligingly.
When she saw what it was, her face
lighted up. She bit her lip over it a few
moments in silence, and then rushed out
to the kitchen.
When I followed a little later—to get
a glass of new milk—they were sitting at
the well-scrubbed tublc, with a batteied
geometry between them, both heads
bent, both faces shining with eagerness,
and both tongues murmuring something
about the maximum of isoperimetrical
polygons.
That was the beginning of Eunice’s
interest in Stephen. The girl thought so
highly of intellectual force that all her
good will was gained when she found
some one who had, alone and unaided,
almost overtaken her in her favorite
study. Every night afterward she in
sisted on lumping him, nnd did it with
only a trace in her air of tho beautiful
patroness.
Certaiuly a teacher like Eunice must
have put anew meaning into tho dog
eared volumes. She found a place for
Stephen now at our picnics and other
frolics, planning* things so gracofuliy
that hor father never scomod to miss tho
lime of Ids foreman, and leading Stephen
to talk of himself with the kindest ma
ternal sympathy; ho w*as only two years
older than she!
Nor was this all. Early and late, in
season and out of season, Eunice urged
on us all that tho boy should have better
opportunities. lie was ten times as clever
as she, she declared, though nobody be
lieved it; it was a pity and a shame that
ho did not go to school, nnd something
ought to bo done about it, Mr. Dun
stable told her that Stephen’s father had
been the skipper of a sailing vessel, nnd
was lost, I believe, on tho high seas some
where between here and China.
“Haven't you ever seen thoso outland
ish knives of Stephen's, with tho queer
Aggers on ’em? That’s about all he left
him, I reckon,” snid . good Mr. Dun
stable.
The next time Stephen passed, ho was
called up to display thoso wonderful
weapons, which he brought forth directly
from an inside pocket, thereby reviving
my theory as to his dangerous character,
which was beginning to waver.
We were sitting at the time out under
the copper-leaved birches with a young
heiress, who was boarding down in the
village. She was a collector of curios,
and took a great fancy to these knives,
which were beautiful little toys 6( Indian
or Chinese workmanship. The delicate
ly-curved two-edged blades were thrust
into short leather sheaths, and the round
handles of ivory carved over with drag
ons. Afterward, and certainly not with
out a mental reservation for the owner's
own benefit, she offered Stephen twenty
five dollars apiece for the two; hilt
Stephen, to our surprise, refused to sell
them, saving that his father had given
them to him and ho would never part
with them. Eunice was at ho pains to
conceal her vexation.
Meanwhile I began to suspect that all
was not right with Mr. Dunstable’s own
financial affairs. He had always been the i
unthrifty one of his family, with an un
fortunate tendency toward “spekilation.” |
He was an old man now, nnd somewhat :
broken down, so that the management of
the place was left more nnd more iu the
hands of Patty and Stephen. Patty, in
deed, was quite competent to assume the
whole charge; but her father looked so
anxious and worried that I guessed, ns I
fancy she did, that some bad news was
coming.
At lost the blow fell. Of the purse
which the brothers had made up to pay
for Eunice's schooling, one hundred dol
lars had been reserved to cover thp tui
tion fees in the coming September. This
Mr. Dunstable had risked—invested, or
what you will, and lost it.
.Now to go in debt is to go branded, in
the eve of a Dunstable. One resource,
however, remained for Eunice. >lr. Dun
tabh had a colt, raised on the farm, and
dear as the apple of his eye because of a
fond belief which he entertained that it
was destine 1 oneday to develop “speed.”
It was in truth a fine colt, though a little
long ia tua legs and lean in the neck,
and given to sundry very lively tricks
uud diversions.
This colt Mr. Dunstable determined to
sell. Ho was young, recently broken,
and useless for heavy farm labor. Hav
ing raised by the sale of this animal the
formidable sum, Eunice's other expenses
would doubtless be gradually forthcom
ing. When Eunice protested, her father
sternly silenced her, declaring that the
money he had lost was given in trust for
her schooling.
Presently Mr. Chichester, a farmer
from under the mountain who had long
had a covetous eye upon the colt, came
up to Duustablc Farms one bright after
noon. He looked the animal over, got
Stephen to show off his paces—how
pretty and docile he was that day to be
sure!—examined his teeth and his’ hoofs,
and partly concluded a bargain. He was
to take him home for a week, at the end
of which time, if the animal proved
sound and steady, he would pay dow%
the SIOO.
Honest Mr. Dunstable made no objec
tion to such an arrangement. He was as
blind where the faults of his favorite
were concerned as the most partial of pa
rents. Exit Mr. Chichester—exit the
colt, quite sedate, at the tail of his
wagon.
M e all lived that week in a vague at
mosphere of suspense. I could not but
think it ill-judged when, at the expint
tionof the time, Mr. Dunstable announced
bi* intention of sending Stephen after the
money, especially as I hrard him *ay, aa
the lad was preparing to set off:
“Now, if he should think we was
askin’ a lcetle too much, if the colt's be’n
up to his games and he wants ye should
knock a bit off from the price, I wouldn't
stick out for a few dollars—not for a few
dollars, Stephen. We could make it up
somehow—so see ye don’t bring back the
crcatur’ "
This was putting too much responsi
bility on such a young lad. I, for one,
was greatly relieved when Stephen re
turned at dusk, and much to his own
satisfaction and the general rejoicing
unrolled from his wallet and placed iu
his employer's hands one hundred dol
lars. Mr. Chichester, he said, was satis
fieu with his bargain; he thought the
colt a fine fellow, although fractious at
times.
Matters now seemed to settle back into
the old grooves, nnd Eunice began to
make preparations for school. But
several days later she came in from a
round of calls looking flushed and dis
turbed, and asked if her father could
lend a horse the next day. After much
wrinkling of eyebrows and counting of
fingers the farmer concluded that the
sorrel mare could he spared, and Eunice
invited me to accompany her, on somo
sort of a drive, the purpose of which sho
did not announce. I accepted, because
I was quite willing to study tho girl.
Our drive took us through a part of
the region unknown to me hitherto, and
brought us at last to the gate of a farm
house of prosporons appearanco when
Eunice drew up and asked me to hold
tlie reins while sho went in.
A few moments later she camodown
the gravel walk in a somewhat agitated
way and with eyes sparkling. As soon
as we were fairly started she turned to
me, saying abruptly, “Mr. Chichester
gave only fifty dollars for that colt!”
“Only fifty dollars?” I echoed, as
tonished.
“Yes. And Stephen sold his knives to
make it up to a hundred.”
“What? Oh, I *ec! But how did
you know?”
“Why, when I called on Miss Willough
by yesterday, she said something about
her good fortune in securing those
Chinese daggers. A sort of suspicion
passed over me. I asked her when
Stephen had sold thorn, aud she said it
was Tuesday, siie believed. lie came in
just at dark, looking ‘pale nnd odd,'aud
told her he had reconsidered. She gave
him the monoy.”
“Yes, but about tho colt? Did *ho
know about that?”
“Of courso not. I came here to see
Mr. Chichester. I looked him straight
in the eye and asked what he paid for it.
He said ‘Fifty dollars’ before he thought,
and then clapped his hand upon his
mouth. ‘Hold on!’ ho said; ‘I promised
tho young follow not to mention tho
price.’ It is not so strange that. Stephen
had to come down. Mr. Chichester says
tho colt can jump any fence on the place,
nnd made kindling wood of bis best
phaeton the first time ho drove him. He
will have to lie put in the hands of a
regular trainer.”
“But I think it was very unwarranta
ble in Stephen,” I protested.
“It was certaiuly unwarrantable iu
him to put me uudor such obligations, I
thiuk,” said Eunice. The tears which
ran down her pretty cheeks were tears of
mortified pride.
I was not surprised that the girl should
take it in this way, knowing that it
often requires a more generous nature to
accept a favor than to render one. Eunice
had played the part of the fair benefac
tress so well that her self-love was natu
rally wounded. Therefore. I was scarcely
less astonished than was Stephen when,
on reaching home, she walked straight
up to him in the yard, with both hands
held out, and said, simply, “0 Stephen,
I know all about it.”
The school-books rested that night
while the boy and girl sat on the door
step outside, and snatches of their con
versation eame in through my open win
dow.
“But I wanted to do it,” I heard
Stephen say in his serious way. “Why,
Miss Eunice, what did I care about
them?”
Afterward came Eunice's fresh, un
mistakable voice, “Yes, Stephen, I will
accept it—that is, for the present.”
This seemed to be satisfactory, and
concluded the interview.
East week I received the following
characteristic letter from Patty:
“Dunstable Farms. January 12th.
My Dear Miss Fulton*: You asked me
to write to you after the holidays were over.
" e all spent Christmas Day at the home
stead and had a real family party. Euuico
was at home, of course, ana what do you
think? She had actually bom teaching in the
night schools and brought back that fifty
dollars that Stephen lent her. Stephen is
going to tako it and go in the high school this
term. Eunice likes teaching so much, and
says she intends to devote her life to it—but
shu may change her mind. I think it won
derful, thougu, how much good she did
Stephen. I never saw any one improve as
he has.
“'By the way, we hear now that the colt is
B°ing to be a great troter. [Patty's ortho
graphy was not always faultless.] However,
perhaps it is just as well that we've got him
off from our minds. And you know he did
act awfully.
“Father and mother send their respects.
We hope you will come hero next summer.
"Affectionately yours,
“Patty Dunstable.”
So ends the drama. Patty is not yet
promoted from the farm-house kitchen.
The heroine was not miraculously cured
of her follies; and the villain turned out
to be the hero. — Youth's Companion.
A Lunatic Swims Twenty-Two Miles.
A marvelous feat was accomplished by
William Blackett, of Chickasaw County,
an incurable inmate of the insane hos
pital at Independence, lowa. Gaining
entrance to the sewer he followed its
course to the river a mile and a half.
Here he divested himself of all clothing
and started to swim to St. Louis. He
was discovered when going over the dam
at Quasqueton, and as all efforts to in
duce him to land were futile he was cap
tured by fore3 after he had swum a dis
tance of twenty-two miles. Except a
bruised shoulder be was all right.—Pitts
burg Dispatch.
PARAGUAY.
LAZY LIFE AYD FEW WANTS OF
THE NATIVES.
The Principal Crop IsYcrba.or .Jesuits
Tea—Men, Women anil Children
Smoke Incessantly Vt'iid
Mules and Barking Snakes.
The aboriginal Paraguayan appears to
have accepted a moderate degree of civili
zation by request over three hundred
years ago. This is a striking contrast to
the Indians in the Argentine Provinco of
the Gran Chaco directly across the river
from Paraguay, who remain untamed and
warlike at the present day. The capital
of Paraguay, Asuncion, founded by the
Spaniard, Ayolas, antedates the present
city of Buenos Ayres, though not the first
settlement at that piace which was aban
doned, its members taking refuge in
Asuncion which, for nearly two hundred
years, remained the centre of Spanish
power east of the Andes. Sebastian Ca
bot was in this vicinity as early as 1527,
but probably attempted a lauuiug on the
Argentine side of the river, wHenee ha
was driven by the fierce Chaco Indians,
lie then retired down the Parana and
founded an ili-fated settlement near
where is now the town of Santa Fe. Sixty
years later, hard by the present city of
Cornentes, de Vera landed and erected
tho conventional cross and a stockade.
Tradition states that a horde of Indians
besieged him and itteropted to burn the
cross, without success. Believing it to
be a fireproof talisman, they were over
come with awe, surrendered, und ac
cepted Christianity.
Tho blood now flowing in the veins of
tho Paraguayan is almost purely Indian,
except in the larger towns, though even
here, ns throughout the land, ho speaks
his native Guarani. To the Jesuit
Fathers the Paraguayan owes his ad
vance in civilization. Theso men, the
most daring of tho South American ex
plorers, nearly three centuries ago trans
lated the Bible, and subsequently other
books, into Guarani. They established
towns and settlements and taught in
dustries and the fine arts as well as their
religion. Since the Jesuits were ex
pelled from the country in the last cen
tury the Paraguayan-Guarani has stood
still, perhaps retrograded. Whatever
material advance his country may make
in the future will be mainly due to for
eigners, who are rapidly crowding in.
The übiquitous gentleman from the
north of Italy is already present in
relatively large numbers, and the enter
prising German is becoming alive to the
fact that good pasture land on the Rio
Alpa can be purchased for SSOO per
square league of 4500 acres.
Paraguay is rich iu woods, and along
the banks of her streams the supply is
practically inexhaustible. Fifteen dye
woods grow in her forests, most promi
nent among which is the quebracho, in
almost endless supply. Seventy woods
are fit for industrial purposes, and there
are five fibrous plants. The Paraguayan
is a mild and indolent being, whose
needs are simple and easily supplied.
His biggest crop is yorbn, or Paraguay
tea, sometimes called Jesuits’ tea. He
consumes immense quantities of this, and
also exports a great deal put up in sacks
made from undressed hides, each pack
age being marked with a red, a white,
nnd a blue stripe, in imitation of the
Bag of the Paraguayan Republic. A vast
amount of yerba is exported from Para
ngua, iu Brazil, to the west coast of
South America; but the Paraguay herb
is reckoned much superior in quality.
The infusion of yerbn is supposed to be
excellent for the stomach nnd nerves, be
sides which it is nutritious. Second in
importance is the tobacco crop. Some
of this is shipped to Buenos Ayros, but
more is consumed at home. OraDges,
too, are cultivated and exported iu large
quantities, but bring less than $2 per
thousand. A little sugar cane is growD,
though mainly for manufacture into rum.
The Paraguayan, his wife or wives,and
his children smoke incessantly. Each
carries a bunch of the leaves from which
to roll impromptu cigars, the only form
in which the weed is used. The whole
nation has become enervated and deteri
orated through the excessive use of to
bacco. Foreigners will do most of the
cattle raising before long*, and leave the
Paraguayan to devote his time to the few
articles that he requires for his own per
sonal use—hi* yerbe, his mandiocre,from
which to make chipa bread, his maize,
and his tobacco. In all these pursuits
the women will accomplish quite as
much as the men. Some leisure hours
will be spent in binding the young
gourds, causing them, as they grow, to as
sume odd forms. From these, wheu
cleaned and polished and perhaps orna
mented with silver bauds, he will suck
his verba mate in quiet contentment.
Formerly he wove his own ponchos; now
they arc almost entirely made in Eng
land, as well as the cottons in which he is
clad. From a vegetable fibre he still
weaves a small quantity of soft white cloth
called nauduty, and makes a few curious
rings.
There is a class of men, not very nu
merous, who go from Paraguay into the
Argentine province of Entre Rios,
where they purchase wild mules, which
they drive back into Paraguay, breaking
them in, after a fashion, on the journey.
On arrival, these obstinate beasts are
traded for members of the more docile
cow family, which last-named quadru
peds are driven into the neighborhood of
Asuncion and fed. When in condition,
they are sold for butchering purposes
and consumed by the inhabitants of that
city. This mule-trading class is not
pure-blooded Guarani, and, like the cow
boy of the Argentine camps, thp muie
trader is apt to be a bad character and
treacherous. His worldly goods consist
of a saddle, a bridle, a poncho, and a
short, straight, narrow-bladed sword, in
the use of which he is expert. When
using it face to face he wraps his poncho
about his left hand and arm as a guard,
applies vile epithets to his adversary,and
invites him to “come on.” Real dam
age, however, is usually done from the
rear. Crime is comparatively rare ia
Paraguay, and the majority of the bad
Guaranis are to be found in the Argen
tine, with the blood and evil character
istics of the sixteenth-century Spaniard
in his composition.
In Paraguay and some parts of the
Argentine Republic horses will not flour
ish, owing to the “back disease,” in
which the hind quarters appear to become
paralyzed; the animal is unable to raise
himself from the ground, and death pre
sently ensues. It is s;rid that even when
horses escape this malady they do not
reproduce their species, The climate
of Paraguay is hot, humid and enervat
ing, but not considered unhealthful. In
sect life is marvelously abundant and
painfully social. Animals and birds arc
plentiful, particularly the latter. The
rivers contain numbers of alligators
which are reputed to reach the size of
Nile crocodiles, while on the land
flourishes the lizard, whose length is said
to reach eight feet. Snake stories to
match the eight-foot lizard are not lack
ing. Across the river in the Gran Chaco
it is said to be no uncommon thing to
catch a boa forty feet long. Some folks
tell of a most intelligent serpent who
barks like a dog and strives to approach
godliness by a daily bath. Before tub
bing, however, he is careful to deposit
his poison under a leaf, to be again
absorbed when his ablutions are com
pleted.
The upper Parana, separating Paraguay
from Brazil, forms in its course one of
the most remarkable cataracts on the
face of the globe. During a century there
have been but very few recorded visits to
the falls of Guayra. In 1788 Captain
Azara wrote as follows:
“Above the falls, the Parana is 4600
yards wide, when suddenly it becomes
contracted to a narrow channel of sixty
yards, containing almost as much water
as all the rivers of Europe collectively,
and rushing downward with undescrib
able fury. The fall is not vertical, but
a plane with an incline of fifty degrees,
equal to a perpendicular fall of fifty-six
feet. The noise is heard t-wenty miles
oil, and the spray rises in columns visible
several miles away. The very earth seem;
to vibrate at the shock.”
Colonel Patino, in 1863, described
these falls thus:
“The noise even at thirty miles off is
like thunder. At three miles it is diffi
cult to hear a person near you speak.
Some settlements were abandoned be
cause the inhabitants became deaf. The
whole region is in the hands of the wild
est class of Indians.”
Captain Nestor, of the Brazilian Army,
in 1877, wrote thus:
“The majestic Parana above the falls,
has a width of 5500 yards; it narrow)
gradually, penetrates between two moun
tains, and falls 100 feet. The grounc
trembles as if a volcano were inside, and
the noise is heard like thunder milci
away.”— New York Times.
A Fish’s Adaptability.
Henrik Dahl, of Norway,
was a reader and follower of Darwin.
Wishing to apply his theory of the limit
of adaptability of a species to its environ
ment, he procured a herring from a
neighboring fjord and carried it home
in a tub of sea water. He reuewed the
water daily for some time and gradually
the quantity, with so little iucouvenienco
to the herring, that he concluded that
the fish might in time learn to breathe
air undiluted with water, like the cat
and the man.
It turned out as he expected, and the
water was finally turned out of the tub
of the herring, never co be replaced,even
for bathing. Henrik next removed the
fish from its tub and placed it on the
ground, where it flopped about very
awkwardly at first, but soon learned to
move freely and rapidly. In a little
while the herring was able to follow its
master without difficulty, and then it
became his constant companion about the
streets of tlie city. On a certain unfor
tunate day Henrik had occasion to cross
a dilapidated bridge which spanned an
arm of the harbor. The herring coming
gracefully along, heedless of danger,now
and again springing at the ephemera, for
which it had acquired an especial fond
ness, missed its footing, slipped through
a crack into the water,and was drowned.
Commercial Advertiser.
Romance of a Child’s Shoe.
There is a saloon on Kearney street, Sat.
j Francisco, which keeps in a shoecase an
; abalone shell. It is large, about the size
j of a roan's two outspread hands, and in
the centre a mass of pearly accretions
takes the shape of a baby's shoe. The
story is that years ago a little child in
Marin County wandered down to the
beach, slipped in between the rocks and
was caught by the cruel mollusk, which
closed against the tiny shoe and gripped
it close to the rock. Years after, when
everyone but the mother had forgotten
the story, and she eat by the fireside with
grown-up daughters about her, some
abalone fisher had found the curious shell
and put it ou exhibition in the window
of his cabin. There the mother saw it,
and hastening forward, brought the other
little shoe, which she had found cast up
by the tide on that dreadful day when
she sought up and down the beach in
vain for her child. They placed it be
side the wrinkled shell, and everyoue
present uttered a cry of surprise, so
startling was the resemblance. After
wards a chemist cut deftly into the bright
nacre of the mass and found traces of
leather wrapped in its shining folds.
There the lost baby's little shoe lies
hidden and changed to pearl.—Philadel
phia Inquirer..
An Insect Landscape.
The Persian entomologist whose col
lection of insects attracted so much
attention at the Paris Exposition last
year is preparing a landscape, the subject
being a watermill, a river and a moun
tain, which wili be composed wholly of
insects. Four hundred and Slty.thou
sand night flying insects will form the
foreground, the remainder of the picture
to be made up of 500,000 insects, com
posing over 8000 species. Commercitt
Adcertimr.
BUDGET OF FUN. |
HUMOROtS SKETCHES FROM
VAIUOUS SOURCES. - -
ill |
love Is Blind—Murder Most Foul-
Professional Courtesy—Ever , j :
Been There—A Narrow |
Escape, Etc., Etc. J t'
He praised her lovely, golden hair K
And eyes of soulful gray, *
But when he asked her to be his >
She firmly said: "Nay, nay.” )
*’
He now declares those eyes of gray
Don’t match, and that her head
Of lovely, shining golden hair
Is a “muddy shade of red."
—A'sie York Herald.
MUEDEB MOST FOUL.
“Tern call this a comedy. It is trag
edy.’*
“T don’t see why you say that.”
“Your comedian has murdered his
part. ” — Epoch.
EVER BBEN THERE?
Barber—“ Does the razor hurt you,
sir?”
Victim—“ Are you sure it’s a razor? I
had an idea it was a piece of barrel
hoop.”— Epoch.
TRUE GENEROSITY.
“Here is a case of true generosity. A
man stabbed by a ruffian has saved the ■
would-be murderer from the gallows.”
“Bless met How?”
“Ho recovered."— Puclc.
PROFESSIONAL COURTES7.
Mrs. Unnizi—“John, I think there’s a
burglardown inthe hall.”
Mr. tlnuizl—“Let him stay there.
There’s nothing he can take except that
umbrella I borrowed from Jones.”
DISCOVERED.
Burglar (soliloquizing)—“Well,l guess
that’s all I can get here.”
Waiter (talking in hissleep)--“Havcn’t
you forgotten something, sir?”
(Exit burglar—sash and all) Life.
TIIK RIVALS.
Lover (dolefully pointing to a piece
torn from his trousers) —“Look at that.
Your dog bit me.”
Hwcet Creature—“ Did he? Poor lit
tle Fido. I suppose he is jealous.”—
Good News.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
“And did you grow up with the coun
try!” was asked of a young man who had
taken Greeley’s advice, and lived to re
pent.
“No,” was the reply; •but I camo
near getting planted.”— Puck.
IIARD LUCK.
“Why so downcast?”
“I lost a magnificent umbrella yester
day.”
“Leave it in the car?”
“No; I met the owner on the street
and he recognized it at once.”— Life.
■KURXING TIIE TABLES.
Young Parson—“ Agnes, will you
marry me?”
Agnes—“lam very sorry, Mr. Foster,
but I can't. I’ll tell you though—you can
marry me. Jack and I are going to an
nounce our engagement at once, and we
will call upon you in the fall. ” — Munsey's
Weekly.
AN ENJOYABLE POEM.
“The poem you sent my daughter was
greatly enjoyed, Mr. Scribbler,” said
Ethelinda’s father.
“Did you like the sentiment, sir?”
“We didn’t get that far—in fact the
goat chewed the thing up before we
could get the hang of it, but you should
have heard us all laugh.” Epoch.
GOOD FELLOWSHIP.
Auntie (who is on her way to the
country)—“What a lovely morning it is,
Nina. I feel as though I would like to
make some one supremely happy to
day.”
Nina (catching the same feeling)—
“Yes, Auntie, so do I. Let’s go and
scratch tho pig’s back.”— Pick Me
Tip.
a father's mean trick.
Enamored Youth—“l beg you, sir,
for the hand of your daughter. I cannot
live without her.”
Old Grumps—“ Glad to hear it. I
can't live with her. Name the day,
young man, and have it soon.”
“Enamored Youth(backing off) —“Um
—er—please give me time to reflect.”—
Neto York Weekly.
A STUMPER.
‘ ‘Why do they call these blackberries ?”
asked the small boy of the grocer.
“Because they are black,” was the
prompt reply.
“Then why do they call these other
black ones raspberries?”
“Because—because—you move on!
What are you hanging around here for,
anyhow?”— Detroit Free Frets.
MET HIS MATCH.
A fellow, thinking to appear smart,
entered a notion store on Sixth avenue
the other day, and said to one of the
salesladies: “Ever have any call for
husbands here?”
“Ob, yes, occasionally. Are you look
ing for a market ?”
“Yes,” said Smarty.
“All right. Step right up on the ten 1
cent counter.” —Texat Siflirgt.
HER STEFMA.
Wealthy Widower (to daughter)— * ‘My j
dear, I—ahem—l hav? concluded to
marry again, and the—the bride will be j
Miss DeSweet. To be sure, there is some i
difference in our ages, but—er—as she is I
so young, she will be fond of society, you j
know, and will greatly eijoy going out
with you.”
Daughter (respectfully)—“Well, Til j
chaneron her.”— New York Weekly.
IN TRAINING.
Harry (looking over manuscript)—
“You don’t expect any editor will accept
such stuff as that, do you?”
Jack—“ Certainly not! It has been
refused by seven already.”
Harry—“ Why under the sun do you
keep on sending it round?”
Jack—“J’m trying to discover in how
many ways a thing can be courteously
declined. ”
Harry—“ What for?”
Jack—“l promised to go with Imo
gene to the dinner of the Mystic Cooking
Club.”— Lift.
ESTABLISHING ms IDENTITY.
“Now, sir,” began the attorney for tho
defense, preparing to annihilate the wit
ness whom he was to cross-examine,
“you say your name is Williams. Cm
you prove that to be your j-eal name? Is
there anybody in the court-room who can
swear that you haven’t assumed it for
the purpose of fraud and deceit?”
“I think you can identify me your
self,” answered the witness.
“I? Where did I ever see you before,
my friend?”
“I put that scar over your right eye
twenty-five years ago,, when you were
stealing peaches out of my father’s or
chard. I’m the samo Williams.”—Chi
cago Tribune.
HIS HEAD WAS LEVEL.
A tramp who was rubbing a Wood
ward avenue lamppost tho other day
struck a pedestrian for a dime, saying ho
wanted to get a bite to eat.
“Why don’t you try some of these
houses around here?” was asked.
“I’ve tried all but one on this block,
and the people are either away or down
on the purfesh.”
“But why didn't you try that one?”
“I’m no fool, mister. I may not be
purty, but I’ve got some common sense.”
“Well!”
“Well, follow the street sprinkler and
you can’t go wrong. When it leaves a
dry spot in front of a man’s house you
just keep away from that man. That*;
where they tie ropes around the chil
dren’s bodies just before feeding time.”
—Detroit Free Press.
_______
THE DIFFERENCE POINTED OUT.
“Good sir,” said the humorist, as ho
entered the clothing store, “you sell
goods for cash only, do you nt?”
“One price, C. O. D.,” answered the
merchant, who was a man of few
words.
“Then,” replied the humorist, “I
shall go over to Hooray’s, for ho will
give me time.”
“Nay,” replied the merchant, “Hoo
ray’s is a cash establishment also.”
“Yes,” answered the humorist, smil
ing, for all bad gone well, and now was
the time for . his joke; “I know it is,
but he gives away a stem-winding -watch
with every suit. Do you not see that I
can get time there?”
“You err,” said the merchant; “you
mistake the watch. Tick you get, but
very little time.” And the humorist de
parted ill-pleased, whilo the merchaut
gazed into space as before.— Puck.
A LITTLE WIDE OF TnE MARK.
The eloquent temperance lecturer
paused, wiped his perspiring brow, and
said impressively to the man on
the front seat, who had listened
with the deepest interest to the discourse,
and evidently was touched by its pathos
and argument: “My friend, it is never
too late to reform. There is hope for
the most hopeless. The past is beyond
your reach, but you can control your fu
ture. You cannot call back to your
pocket the enormous sum it probably
has cost you to paint your nose the color
it has now, but—”
“All it cost me to paint my nose as
you see it,” said the man in the front
seat, rising up, “was 84.60, including
railroad fare and boat hire. I went fish
ing yesterday. My nose will be as fair
as a lily in a day or two. But go oa
with your lecture,” lie added, sitting
down again, “I am very much interest
ed.”— Chicago Tribune.
Stanley Then and Noir.
When Henry M. Stanley’s bride was
born, thirty-four years age, the great
explorer, then a shy and taciturn boy of
sixteen, had recently landed in New
Orleans. He had made his way there as
a cabin boy on a tramp steamer, and his
name was John Rowlands. Three years
before, he had doffed the gray trappings
of a pauper nnd emerged from the Den
bigh poorhouse into a cold world in
which he counted not a single friend.
Had the carriage of the Tennants,with
its spanking horses and R liveried coach
man and footman, whirled past him on
the road, he would have dutifully
! touched his cap, as all boys reared in
! humble station in the British Islands are
: wont to do when their “betters” pass by.
j Did the friendless boy then dare to dream
; that he would ever ride in that old family
coach, the son-in-law of the handsome
| and stately dame at whose beck and call
the liveried flunkeys moved in prompt
obedience? And what would that proud
dame herself have said if some one had
suggested that in a year or two she> would
give birth to a daughter who would,with
i her consent, one day wed that poorly
| dressed lad who trudged along the road
| without a shilling in his pocket or per
haps a hope of ever climbing out of the
rut in which to all appearances he was
fated to travel on to the end of his
days?
Yet to-day that friendless boy is a world
renowned ifian, honored of Kings and
Princes and distinguished people, who
throng around to congratulate him on his
marriage to the honored and talented
daughter of that proud lady to whom
little John Rowlands would havetouened
his cap in respectful salutation. And
that proud lady herself is there, prouder
thau ever at having secured such a dis
tinguished hijjjiand for her daughter.
Verify, the age of romance has not
passed away. Stanley’s life is a romance
that has never been outdone in song or
story .—Chicago Pott.
Butter was unknown to the ancients.