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FAYETTEVILLE NEWS YOL. I. FAYETTEVILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1888. NO. 20. In New York State several hundred foreigners change their names every year, chiefly because they find that Americans cannot pronounce them. In looking over the City Directory, re marks the New York Sun, one sees many bames which their possessors could sim- plify by merely dropping a few super- fluous letters out of them. It would be to their advantage to do so, though they have the star-spangled right to retain them if they please. Father Schleyer, inventor of the new language Volapuk, who recently died in Germany, was a Catholic Priest and pastor of a little church on the German side of Lake Constance. He was a poet and a linguist. In explaining how the language was created, Father Schleyer said: “One sleepless night the whole framework of the now language flashed out before him.” The language has now been perfected foy seven years, and there are three periodicals published entirely in Volapuk. North Carolina can lay claim to the President’s earliest namesake, asserts the New York Commercial Advertiser. North ampton, in that State, has a Grover Cleveland, now a sturdy lad of twelvo, and whose father, upon going to Buf falo, N. Y., for medical treatment short ly before his birth, heard a speech from Mr. Cleveland, then almost to fortune and to fame unknown, and was so im pressed with it that he gave the speak er’s name to his next boy, prophesying at the time that he would be a President's namesake. Hypnotism, is, for the first time, be coming an instrument in the hands of French justice. A shoemaker named Pichereau, living in the town of Paim- bxuf, had persistently denied a robbery of $40, of which he was accused. The judge before whom he was tried went at once to a professional hypnotizer, who had the man’s eyes blindfolded, much as if he was giving a public performance, and at last discovered the stolen money under anoW&one wall. Thanks to the hypnotjjzer the shoemaker was convicted and soflfcej^pd to- .twp years’ imprison- > ment. There is a droll incident related of tho state concert in the Austrian Ilofburg which preceded the great dinner given in honor of Emperor William of Germany. It was a superb affair, with all the chict Austrian singers, but when it was fin ished there was not a sound of applause. It is Austrian Court etiquette that the guests begin, the applause. William had not known this, apparently, for he did not move a muscle. The result wa 3 a chilling silence. The artists-arc much piqued by this, and when raulino Lucca -Was afterward presented to William, and he spoke of a hope for the pleasure oi hearing her in Berlin, the diva, with a very saucy air and marked emphasis, re plied that it was not at all likely that she would ever go^there. There are to be no more big rafts. T he Ohignecto Post, published near Joggins, Nova Scotia, announces that Mr. Leary has instructed his agent, Angus McDon ald, to sell tho timber used in frames, and other materials on hand at tho Fin ger Board, as he will build no more rafts. The expense of constructing and then of breaking up tho rafts, more than the cost of transporting, renders the big raft system moro expensive than vessels. Nothing but Leary’s unconquerable grit caused the last and only successful raft to be built. The financial failuro of the experiment was assured long before, but Mr. Leary was determined to build a raft and tow it to New Y T ork if it took all his fortune to do it, and he is a man of such iron-willed stubbornness as to have carried out his pet schomo, after no matter how many failures. Now that he has succeeded ho rests on his laurels and is content. The New York Graphic says: “There is always something new in Paris, and the latest novelty is worth tho attention of our own Government. A member of the Municipal Council proposes to estab lish an asylum for rabid and habituul politicians. On the certificate of fifty citizens, not more than half of whom shall belong to any one political party, that the man has become a confirmed nui sance and neglects his family for purposes of statesmanship, the judge can order immured within tho asylum walls ^ich times as he may have returned of ordlnury people who are Iftr politicians. Tho treat ed towards him during ft also notoworthy. jratory, politi co th are to bo I he becomes is ready to ties of every REUBEN JAMES. Three ships of war had Preble when he left the Naplos shcre, ,\nd the mighty king of Naples lent him seven galleys more; And never since the Argo floated in the mid dle esa Buch noble men and valiant have sailed in company As the men who went with Prtblo to the siege of Tripoli. Stewart, Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur, how their names ring out like goldl— Lawrence, Porter, Trippe, Macdonough, and a score as true and bold; Every star that lights their banner tells tho glory that they won; But one common sailor’s glory is the splendor of the sun. Reuben James was first to follow when De catur laid aboard Of the lofty Turkish galley and in battle broke his sword. Then the pirate Captain smote him, till his blood was running fast, And they grappled, and they struggled, and they fell beside the mast. Clole behind them Reuben battled, with a dozen, undismayed, Till a bullet broke his sword arm, and he dropped the useless blade. Then a swinging Turkish sabre clovo his left and brought him low, Like a gallant bark, dismasted, at the mercy of the foot Little more/ knows the corsair; high his blade was raised to slay, When a richer prize allured him where De catur struggling lay. “Help!” the Turkish leader shouted, and his trusty comrade sprung, And his scimstar like lightning o’er the Yankee Captain swung. Reuben James, disabled, armless, saw tne sabre flash on high, Saw Decatur shrink before it, heard the pirate's taunting cry, Baw, in half the time I tell it, how a sailor brave and true Still might show a bloody pirate what a dying man can do. Quick he struggled, stumbling, sliding in the blood around his feet, As the Turk a moment waited to make ven geance doubly sweet. Bwift the sabre fell, but swifter bent the sailor’s head below, And upon his fenceless forehead Reuben James received the blow I So was saved our brave Decatur; so the common sailor died; -— - Bo the love that moves the lowly lifts the great to fame ancj pr 'do. Yet we grudge him not his honors, for whom love like this had birth, For God never ranks His sailors by the register of earth! —James J. Roche, in Boston Post, MURIEL. “Muriel, Muriel.” Tho tone was sharp and authoritative, and Madam Thorne’s smooth, white brow- contracted info a half frown as she leaned out of the window aud repeated her imperative summons. A foam bubble sparkling on the break er’s brim—a butterfly poising in midair —a thistledown careening on the breeze —how shall I descr b!e the airy lightness, tho perfect grace of Muriel’s motion as she came dancing, floating up the broad lawn and stood before the open window? “Well, auntie?” “Come in, Muriel; I wish to have a little serious conversation with you.” The limpid gray eyes shot ’one re bellious flash from under their silken lashes, and the rich red mouth took an unmistakable pout. “Is it auout Lawyer Grant?” “Yes, Muriel. That worthy gentle man has magnanimously overlooked your scornful reception of his avowal of love and renews his oiler of hand, heart and fortune.” “And if I refuse?” “Then the mortgage which he holds on Buckdalc will be foreclosed immedi ately and you and I wiil be homeless out casts.” “And so you propose to sell me to Lawyer Grant?” Even madam’s well-bred composure was not quite proof against the bitter scorn in tho question, and she flushed a little as she replied: “Don’t be vulgar, child. Mr. Grant offers you a homo, riches and an honor able name.” “An offer that 1 despise and reject.” Madame Thorne’s snowy eyelids wont down, and her snowy hands went up, in token of her horror. “Ingrate 1 Traitor! I shelterei and cared for you in your infancy, kept you from tho almshouse; and now you will not make this trifling sacrifice to save my old ngo from want.” “Not to save your life, or mine!” The gray eyes glittered now, and tho quick blood burned like a crimson stain in either girlish check. “Not for your sake, Aunt Muriel,nor to save tho whole world, would I thus degrade myself.” Mrs. Thorne’s cold blue eyes fastened themselves on Murid's glowing face with pitiless scorn. “Will you toll mo, Muriel Vance, how you propose to support y^ursolf? You nave no money, no accomplishments and no special aptitude, that I have yet discovered, for making yourself useful in any way whatever.” Muriel gave a little sigh. “I am a sad scapegraco, aunty—I acknowledge it. But it is snid that there is a special Providence that watches over fools. On that I place my reliance. But there, I see that you are angry, so I will say no more. ” And to Mrs. Thorne’s infinite disgust she began raroling a wild, rythmic melody, her littlo slippored feet keoping time, ns she whirled dovni the long piazza in n perfect melee of whirls, pir- •uettos and impromptu “pas de fatema- tion, v till at last, with a grand flourish, she stood before her aunt, flushed, pant ing and smiling. “I danced away all my ill humor, dear auntie ” “EncoreI encore!” cried a wheezy, cracked voice behind her, and Muriel turned to see the wrinkled face and leer ing eyes of Lawyer Grant. “A light heart makes light feet,” he said, chuckling and rubbing his withered hands in ecstaCy;” “eh, Miss Muriel!” But Muriel had fled to her room, a secluded little retreat in a remote wing of the great rambling farmhouse. "When, after an hour’s patient watch ing from her window she had seen her antiquated lover disappear down the shaded path that led to the highway, she prepared to go down to the parlor to practice some new songs. But to her dismay she found the door fast lacked and herself a prisoner. That night, while she slept, a plate containing food was placed in her room, and with it a tiny slip of paper, bearing these words: You shall never leave this room until you yield to my wishes. Muriel Thorne. To which she returned this character istic answer: Without wishing to be impertinent, I may say that there is a fair prospect of my outliv ing both of you. I defy you, until your death shall release me. 'Muriel Vance. For four days she bore her captivity admirably. She leaned from her win dow and sang snatches of gay songs when she was sure that her aunt was where she could hear her, and affected the utmost nonchalance when she saw Mrs. Thorne and Lawyer Grant watch ing her from the lawn. But on the after noon of the fifth she began to give way, and longed with all the intensity of her nature for freedom. She saw the shining river, free and unfettered, winding between the feath ery willows that lined its banks, and could almost hear it as it gurgled aver its pebbly bed where the cool woodland shadows lay thickest; and the words of the bravura she was sinking died in an inarticulate sob, though her aunt was in full view, strolling among tho flower beds on the lawn. At last she wiped away her tears and clinched her teeth firmly together. “All’s fair in love and war," she said resolutely; “and a masterly strategy must accomplish what resistance would fail to do, even if it docs involve some deception.” Srhc watched long and anxiously for Lawyer Grant that night. Finally, when the shadows of the gloaming lay thickly among the trees, she saw a tall form coming up the path toward tho front, 4oor. ■■■ — She leanedfrom the window and called to him in a suppressed voice; “Go to the kitchen porch and get the, long ladder you will find there. Climb to the balcony under the window at the back of this room; I wish to speak to you." A fow moments elapsed and Muriel heard cautious footsteps on the balcony, and then a light tap on the window. She gently opened it and stepped out. Without raising her eyes she began in a faltering voice: “Lawyer Grant, when I requested your presence hero I intended to propose an elopement, trusting that an oppor tunity of regaining my freedom might occur. But I cannot do it. Not even to regain my liberty will I sully my lips with a lie. But, oh, sir, think of my cruel punishment and pity me. Think of one who has always been free and un- tramcled as the very birds condemned to this captivity, and if you have a human heart intercede with my aunt. Think.-—” I but sobs and tears finished the prayer she ; would have utterel, as she threw herself gratitude at escaping the cowhiding ha so richly deserved and the details of tho courtship between Rossmore and Muriel. But when the sumachs burned like fiery torches in the woodland glades she loved so well, and hickories and maples shone golden in the uplands, Muriel, her claim to the Rossmore estates duly rec ognized, became Mrs. Fenner Rossmore. And I am bound as a veracious chroni cler to record the fact that neither party ever regreite® it. HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS. Good Way to Cook Tomatoes. A good and unusual way to cook to matoes is the following: Peel and slice eight tomatoes. Put them in a coarse cloth and press most of the juice into a bowl. Save the juice. Chop the toma toes and mix in two tablespoonfuls of melted butter. Stir up well, put in a buttered mold, fit on the top, set in a pot of boiling water, and keep at a fast boil for one hour. When done turn out on a flat dish and pour over it the fol lowing source: Heat the tomato juice, stir in a tablespoonful of butter rolled in flour, season with pepper, sugar and salt, and boil one minute. Sanitary Bedrooms. “Woolen carpets are filthy,” says Di John Crowell in Popular Science Neat, ‘‘and it the good housewife does not be lieve it, let her look across the room when the sun is shining through it, and see the dust constantly rising. This process goes on night and day, and is unavo d- able when the floor is encumbered with the woolen covering.” Hard floors, without cracks or seams foi dust and vermin, painted walls, simple furnish ings, because of dust and “germs,” an open fireplace, sunshine for disinfecting and drying, no draperies to catch and hold dust, the iron or brass bedstead and hair mattress—these constitute the es sentials of a sanitary sleeping-room. The old-fashioned wash-stand is recom mended as far more desirable than set bowls with hot and cold water, as these are rarely trapped properly, and so be come sources of pollution to the bed room.—La ws of Life. at his feet The tall form came out of the shadows, and as the light from the room beyond fell full upon him Muriel started to her feet in mute surprise. It was a stranger’s face she gazed upou—a face which invited confidence, nevertheless. There was something about the mischievous gray eyes, clouded just now with a slight shade of seriousness— an expression about the finely-cut mouth, which, though parted at that moment with a smile of blended amusement and pity, seemed to be irresistibly at tractive. “Do not distress yourself, I beg,” said he, as ho gazed upon her agitated countenance, “and believe me when I say that I will willingly afford you all the assistance in my power. But before you accept my assistance let mo explain- my pro enco in this hou e. My name is Fenuer Rossmore and I came here to night to see Lawyer Grant, relative to certain unclaimed ostales in Couuaught, Ireland. If one Michael Vance, who came to this country twonty years ngo, since deceased, died without heirs, the property reverts to me, as next of kiu. I have written to Graut repeatedly, but failing to get a satisfactory reply, came over to see if I could not find more definite information regarding tho heirs of this Michael Vance, who had the honor of being sixteenth cousin to my step mother—God rest her soul 1” “Michael Vance!" cried Muriel, her embarrassment lost in surprise. “Why, that was my father’s name.” “And his birthplace?” “Killaroy, Ireland.” “Accept my congratulation,” said Rossmore; “for you aro not only the most beautiful young lady iu America, but tho richest heiress in Ireland. And I hope,” he continued, as ho saw tho rosy flush upon her cheek, “that siuce you have deprived mo of my inheritance, yon will at least grant me tho liberty of a kinsman’s kiss. By my faith, it would be cheap as the price oi the Rossmore es tates even. I assure you it i> a national custom.” Muriel’s refusal was accompanied with a laugh of mirthful incredulity that was so irresistibly contagious that tho blended tones of merriment reaohed the two plotters bolow. Wo pass over mndame’s incredulous scorn and final belief, Lawyer Grant’s A Suggestion lor Old Boxes. Do mothers and nurses know how much enjoyment and fun can be had out of different styles of boxes that we so ruthlessly destroy? If all the members of the family will sa-> e the boxes they will find, some«tormy day when children are forced to remain indoors, that a trip to th: attic (where the boxes can be knpt) will afford a great deal of amuse ment. The little girls of the family will •select a good-sized box for a new kind of doll’s house, and mamma or nurse can easily teach them how to cut cardboard furniture to furnish this little house. If it is summer time, make a tiny house out of an old cardboard box, and paste on to it dried moss, then set it on a shingle and have a little gravel path leading up to the door. On one side have a bit of looking-glass for a pond, and some branches of evergreen boughs for trees. You can add whatever else you like to make it look like an old fashioned farm house. This simple toy has kept little girls happy for whole summers. The boys can use the boxes for thea tres, Punch and Judy and many different kinds of shows. _ The baby will be amused with an old tin box, some beans or pebbles put inside, and the outside covered with some bright- colored flannel after the cover is firmly fastened. This will make a good rattle, a,nd if a string be tied to the box it can be drawn on the floor, or be sus pended from the chandelier and swung if the baby is too young to walk. All these simple things have been he'ps to many mothers and nurses on rainy days, when the expensive toys of tho nursery have grown old and the lit tle children are longing for something new. When you go away from home for the summer put some boxes and bright col ored papers and cloths into your trunk; you will find them useful and very ac ceptable when the children cannot have their own nursery ortho toys it contains. —New York Graphic. Tilings Worth Knowing. 1. That fish may be sealed much oasiei by dipping into boiling water about a minute. 2. That fish may as well be scaled iJ desired before packing down in salt, though in that case do not scald them. 3. Salt fish arc quickest and best freshened by soaking in sour milk. 4. That milk which is turned or changed may bo sweetened or rendered tit for use again by stirring iu a little soda. 5. That salt will curdle new milk, hence in preparing milk porridge, gravies, etc., the salt should not be added until tho dish is prepared. 6. That fresh meat, after beginning to sour, will sweeten if placed out of doors in the cool of night. 7. That clear boiling water will re move tea stains and mauv fruit stains. Pour tho water through tho stain and thus prevent it spreading over the fabric. 8. That ripe tomatoes will remove ink and other stains from white cloth; also from tho bauds. lb That a tablespoonful of turpentine boiled with your white clothes will aid in tho whitening process. 10. That boiled starch is much im proved by the addition of a little sperm or a littlo salt, or a little gum arubic dissolved. 11. That beeswax and salt will make your rusty fiat irons as clean and smooth as glass. Tie a lump of wax in a bag and keep it for that purpose. When the irons aro hot, rub them first with the wax rag, then scour with a paper or cloth sprinkled with salt. 13. That blue ointment and kerosene mixed iu equal proportions and applied to the bedsteads is an unfailing bedbug remedy, and that a coat of whitewash is ditto for the walla of a log house. THE FRENCH EXECUTIONER AN INTERESTING CHAT WITH THE HEADSMAN OF FRANCE. Living fn Strict Retirement—The Ghastly Implements of His Pro fession—How He Does His Work. Few people have ever seen the public executioner of France, says a Paris let ter to the Now York World, and it is nc easy matter to find him, for the police refuse to give his address, and his name is carefully omitted from the directory. The dreaded “Monsieur de Paris,” as he is called by the lower classes, is, how ever, M. Dicbler, and he rents a fiat at No. 3 Rue Vic d’Azur, a squalid little itreet half an hour’s walk away from Roquette Prison. This man, who con ducts the ceremonies in which the guliotine plays the most prominent part, is a very quiet person of a retiring dis position, who dreads notoriety and avoids contact with h:s neighbors as much as E ossible. There is nothing in the eadsman’s appearance nor in his home to denote his ghastly office. After some difficulty the World cor respondent secured the address of M. Deibler and found that the headsman wa3 not indisposed to tell the details of his unenviable profession. He could not, however, l e induced to exhibit even privately the guillotine, which he re ferred to as “ the machine.” He said: “The machine is ready mounted for use, and I may be summoned off at any moment. I usually get twenty-four hours’ notice in Paris and more than double that time for the departments, but I hold myself constantly in readiness to start off at a moment’s notice. As a rule I have to spend at La Roquette the whole night preceding the execution. A great deal has to be done in a very short time. Soon as the two black vans arrive —one containing the ‘woods of justice’ and the other destined to convey the body of the culprit to Ivry Cemetery— I have to superintend the installation of the machine, which takes upward of an hour. The fixing of the knife and of the apparatus itself is an intricate job. There must be no hitch at the last The instrument Is invariably placed on five stones just outside the central door of the Roquette Prison. “While I am fixing the machine,” continued the headsman, “The Abbe Faure arrives. The Abbe Faure enters La Roquette and gives spiritual comfort to the doomed man. After being left alone with the chaplain for a short tinife the culprit is handed over' to my asaist- ant, who'tvrings brfn from his c-eif down the stone stairway which leads to the Depot—the prisoner’s last station on earth before reaching the machine— where he is seated on a wooden stool, and his toilet begins. This doesn’t take much time, for his nair and beard were clipped on entering the prison. The man is pinioned, his shirt stripped of its collar, and he then goes forth to his death by the central door, when he is strapped to the fatal plank which, top pling over, brings his neck into the half circular pori ion of a ring that I secure be fore springing the knife. Soon as I touch a button in one of the upright posts the knife falls and the head is received in a tin vessel containing sawdust. The body is unstrapped, put into a coffin, with the culprit’s head between his legs, and the remains are then driven off to Ivry Ceme tery, where they are buried.” “Does life endure any time after the head is severed:” “No, I think not,” the execution re plied, reflectively. “The great, loss of blood produces syncope. Besides ” Here M. L’eibler went out of the room and brought in a large black leather box, which he p aced on the table, On raising the lid there appeared the bright «teel knife of oblique shape wfcich is fixed to the cross beam of the guillotine at each execution, and wiiich M. Deibler carefully watches over and cleans at home. He took it out of its soft red lining the other afternoon, stroked it with his hand ns if to brush the dust off its highly-poiished surface, and, turning It over said: *»• “There; look at the back of this knife. It is heavily weighted, you see, to make it fall swiftly and with tremen dous force when I touch the spring. Now, this is the reason why I think that all consciousness departs from the brain of a man after the fall of the head. At tho same instant that the neck is severed by the blade, the weighty portion strikes »o fearful a blow on the occiput that the cheek is often bruised from the fail of the head into tho tin vessel containing tho sawdust. Vet tho head is only raised a few inches abovo the tin vessel which receives it. Buch a blow is, in my opinion, sufficient to drive out any ray of memory, reflection or real sensi bility that may linger, after tho decapi tation,in the brain of the most obdurate, bull-headed criminal.” The Gull Stream. Tho main Gulf Stream is said 0o end on the south side of the Banks of New foundland; at all events, the stream di vides there, the larger branch crossing the Atlantic northward to the coast of Northern Europe, passing the North Cape and becoming und-stiuguishable near Nova Zembla. The smaller branch crosses eastward, curves southward be tween the Azores and Portugal, sending out smaller branches into the Irish and Mediterranean seas, and joins the north equatorial current, with which it returns to tho Gulf of Mexico, and so completes the circuit. Thus the most northern point reached Is near Nova Zembla, the most southern near the equator. It touches the United States, Newfound land, the British Isles, Norway, Port ugal aud Morocco. Tho equatorial cur rents touch the eastern coast of South America and the western coast of Africa. The Japan stream touches Japan and Corea, Kamschatka and Alaska, and th< western corst of North America and ths Mexican coast, flowing almost as fat •outh as theeauator.— Pki'adeLohia Call LOVE-LIGHT. AH thro’ the house I can hear her voices Sunshine, my Sunshine, Scattering gladness, bidding rejoice, My fair Sunshine. In my lady's chamber away up stairs, Sunshine, my Sunshine, She is chanting snatches of carolling airs, My fair Sunshine, She is laughing now in the children’s gle9, Sunshine, my Sunshine, Blithely the echoes float in to me; My fair Sunshine. in white she flashes adown the stair, Sunshine, my Sunshine; Her quick, light foot patters ther% My fair Sunshine. A moment her tone shines in at the door, Sunshine, my Sunshine, And the room turns light, it is dark no moro My fair Sunshine. With a white hand waved and a kiss air- blown, Sunshine, My Sunshine, She has passed and vanished, my lo7e, my own. My fair Sunshine. —Archibald MacMechan in Youth's Com panion. HCMOjt OF THE DAY. In everybody’s mouth—Teeth. The glazier generally has a pane in hi3 chest. The dressmaker’s draper should be quick at figures. WorkiDg like ahorse—A lawyer draw ing a conversation. Hearts may be honest, but they are. always on the beat. The rising generation—Folks getting np in the morning. Why is a doctor never seasick?—He is used to see sickness. Sometimes iu a trade a man kicks when there is nothing to boot. ( The woman question—which women are opposed to—“How old are you?” It is asr. -a’lv known that tbo wheels of a vehicle are tired as the horse. A pig if a - never known to wash, but a great many people have seen the pig iron. In a question of life and dca Vihero are two sides to take—Thia .EdO^jand .that-mda ... .it is trdrHrne ts wNgO _ -jnake the bed of the ocean.—?L‘;.. : Free Pres-. “Ah,” said the fiy, as it crawled around the bottle, “I have passed through the hatching age, the creeping ige, and now I am in the mucilage”— then it stuck. Customer (to waiter)—* Some cheese, please.” Waiter—“Beg pardon, sir; very sorry, sir; cheese out, sir.” Cus tomer—‘*That so? When do you expect jt back?”—Life. The title of a book which lies before us—“Twenty Thousand Leagues l uder the Sea”—suggests that the submarine development of the national game has assumed the character of a era e. “Dad can tell the time without look ing at his watch,” sa.d little Johnnie. “When I ask him in the morning he says it is time to get up, and when 1 ask him at night he says it is tune to go to bed.”—Ac iff York Sun. “How are you getting along.” asked one cyclone of another. “About ninety miles an hour. How's your.-cif.” “G, I manage to keep things moving.” an swered Cy. No. 1, and blew a town into the lake.—Detroit Free 1 'r. ». It is said to be dangerous to attend nhurch when there is a “great gun” in the pulpit, a “minor canon” in the reading desk, when the bi.-hop “charges the clergy” and when the choir “mur ders an anthem.”—Detr.it Fr.e Dress. Thero was confusion in the faces of George and Matilda, who sat in intimate proximity on the sofa, as Harry entered. Matilda was the first to recover her self- possessio'n. bhe said—“We are engaged 1i a little game at cards.” Harry— “And a mighty close game, too, eh?”— Boston Transcript. Robert J. Burdette re- ently received a notification at Livingston. Mon., that a dead registered letter awaited his orders at Washington. He sent the following reply: “If the letter referred to isn't so dead that it is offensive you might send tho remains to Burlington, Iowa, where I will claim the mummy iu about a month.”—New York Post. “Miss Maud,” he said, “I have come in this evening to ask you a question, and 1 have brought ariug with me. Now, before yuu try it ou I want to toll you that if you feel inclined to be a sister to me I will have to take it back, as my father objects to my sister wearing such large diamonds.” And Maud said she would keep the ring.— Jeweler's Weekly. A Fine Compliment.—Husband: “Pro fessor Widehead paid you a very fine CompRment after dinner last night, my dear.” Wife: “Oh, did he? \\ hat did he say?” Husband: “Ho said that you wereu’t handsome, but you wero ono of the most intelligent woman heevef met.” Wife: “Professor What's-his name has received his last invitation from me.— Time. Petroleum for Harbor Defence. A Philadelphia corporation thinks it is smart enough to sot the river on lire. It is preparing to make experiments at Fort Mfttlin, near Philadelphia, with a new method of setting the river on fire. It is proposed to sink perforated iron pipes in the river bed and approaches to the harbor, through which petroleum can bo forced to the surface of the water by machinery. Iu this manner blazing S etroleum can be sent into the enemy’a eet and moke it uncomfortably hot for the nroud invader,