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I NUJSE-SM'K PIECE (OF 16 PIECES). BY 11. C. DODGE, When this band begins to pl*.v, Btcp your cars and run away. -Old *inig. “Oh! long enough fife fiddle lovs Too violin to mention, Now, while de-cUrin’et, will, dove* Euphono-lali strict attention?” “Thou didat adored, All this dulcimer duly: Thou caetanct, threw in ;.:rhord, And caught oboe—yourn truly.” “ There’* apinet time* w ln- i by tiiy aide I've thought, viol. l"\f, thou eyed me *'J he cab: i ■ t<> m> bride la tin* and ar girl boaidc me. ” “It whi*t> little thought but, oh! It* harp-in*** wa.* thril ing. What cruul hautboy do then but MOW Horn angel be wa* willing.” “Well, lyre, revised t<> guitar chance To |*oj> nay, do n t mourn It; Dill, oli, iHjl’.-ifve Miih heart which pant* And do not, preciouM, cornet.” “I’ve thought tifnbrh-haiiV’muflcd the maid, “But I <l *-< iarion-ly Thought he and banjo-king whe.i ho said, ‘Love! violoiii! am lonely.’” In co icortfna room l>egan Two heart* like on** a-Uating. In meet uooordion' lum Ann Watched moments swiftly fleeting. Flew nine flntlna c ock ; ho stayed With hi* harmonica-'ar A telling to the cymbal n uld lii* Joy wah worth a dolJur. Now had that young bncclna-hoad Per-harrwitchord have tndod Hi* xylophone in to..*- rd<l fled Ere pa name ill oIIVikU <l. “ That tain-boar-iho my bouro again And cittern clone p ano. # And have I got tabouret when I Mill can shoot a man? No! ” Pa flute to got organ to ehoot • And drum lied mudo him ravage. “I've got talwir that young ga!-luto With bullet*.” He \vu savage. “Oh, ace, mclod *’-!an-gry mid, “Tbia gnu -that hn*H-viol fellow From him will piccolo-do of |c.a<l * Cub bugle-long,’ I'll yell, oh!” •lixplanation noocnary: “ liy Ann, oh!” “Oot to soar It” ___ The Victim of a Vihtue. BY JAMES PAYN. Tam one of those persons, envied for throe months in the year and pitied for nine, who “ iivo u littlo way" out of London. In the summer, our residence is a -.'.harming one; the garden especially is delightful ami attracts troops of Lam don friends. They are not only always willing to dine with us, hut drop in of their own motion and rftav for the last train to town. The vague observation "any flue day," or the more evasive phrase “somethin day.” used in 00111- plimantary invitations, aro then very dangerous for us to employ, for we are taken at our word, just as though wo meant it. This would lie very gratify ing, however expensive, if it only hap pened all the year round, But from October to .Juno nobody comes near us. In reply to <>ur modest invitations we then receive such expressions of tender regret as would convince the most skep tical; "a previous engagement," “ in disposition of onr youngest bom,” “the horses ill,” some catastrophe or other, always prevents our friends from enjoy ing another evening with us “like that charming one they spent last July.” They hope, however, to be given the same lmppy chance again, “when th> weather is a little less inclement,” by which they mean next summer. As for coming to dine with us in winter, they will see us further first—by which they mean nearer first. Sometimes at their own boards we hear this stated, though of course without any intentional appli cation. Bomo guests will observe to us, apropos of dinners, “It is most extra ordinary how people who live half a dozen mill's out of town will attempt to ignore the seasons and expect us to go and dine with them, just as if it, was August, through four feet of snow. It does really seem—as Jones, our excellent host, was saying the other day the very height, of personal conceit.” As we have occupied our present resi dence for some years, wo have long hail the conceit taken out ol us ; but we have still onr feelings. Our social toes are not absolutely frost-bitten, and when thus trodden upon, we are aware of the circumstance. It grieves ns to know what Jones lets thought (ami said) of us, and my wife drops a quiet tear or t wo dur ing our drive home in the brougham. 1 am bound to confess it is rather a long ride. 1 find inysell dropping asleep be fore we have left brick and mortar be hind us, and as xvo cross the great com mon near our home 1 feel a considerable change in the temperature. It is a beautiful, breezy spot, with a lovely view in summer time; the playground of the butterfly and the place of the bee; but in tlie whiter it is cold enough. In the day-time there is nobody there at all. In the evening, ai uncertain in tervals, there is the patrol. In the old times it used to be a favorite haunt of the Knights of the Head; during whose epoch, by-the-by, 1 should fancy that those who lived in the locality found it even more difficult to collect their friends around thorn than now. It has still a bad name for tramps and vagabonds, which makes my wife a little nervous when tlie days begin to “draw in” and our visitors to draw oil. She insists upon my going over the house before retiring to rest every night and making a rejKirt of “All’s well.’ lining myself not much over five feet high in my hoots, and considerably less in my slippers (in which I am wont to make these pere grinations), it has often suggested itself to my mind that it would lie more judi cious to leave tlie burglars to do their worst, as regards the plate and things, and not risk what is (to me) much more valuable. Of courso I could “hold the lives of half u dozen men in my hand " —-a quotation from my favorite author —by merely urmiug myself with a loaded revolver; but the simple fact is, I am so unskilled in the use of any weapon (unless the umbrella can be called such) that I should be just as likely to Ix'gin with shooting number one (that is myself) as number two, the “first ruffian.” “Noverwill ingly, my dear, ” says I to Julia "will I shed the life-blood of any human being, and least of all my own.” On the other hand, as I believe in the force of imagination, 1 always carry, on these expeditious, in the pocket of mj dress ing gown, a child’s pistol—belonging to our infant, Edward John—which looks like a real one, and would, lam per suaded, have all the effect of a real one in my hands without the effect of jier- Bonal pent. “Miserable rutlhvus," 1 hod made up my mind to say when coming upon the gang, “ your lives are in my power,” (here I exhibit the pistol’s bub), “ but out of perhaps a mistaken clem ency I will only shoot one of you, the one.that is tlie last to leave my house. 1 “ urnt six,” (or sixteen, according and ri,^ of ' the gang), “ and then Stew art n si they would, I cal sceue, with helterpolter to out the court rot- in at, which I should with a xvecpible-lock after them. You the svmpaih -y double-lock?” but you "L : f atisfactoiv reply. I know of His Ho{jat “double-lock” means guilty th ilo, but my favorite novelist— xv i thou n sensations! one—always uses it, and I conclude he ought to know. it was the beginning of a misty Octo ber, when the leaves had fallen off early, and our friends had followed their ex ample, and I had been sitting up alone into the small hours resolute to hear my favorite author to the hitter end—his third volume, wherein all the chief characters (except the comic ones) are slain, save one who is left sound in wind and limb, but with an hereditary disposition to commit suicide. Bomo wliat depressed by its perusal and' ex ceedingly sleepy, I went about my usual tu-.k of seeing all was right in a some what careless and perfunctory manner. All was right apparently in the dining room, all right in the drawing room, all right certainly in the study (where I had myself been sitting) and all right— no. not quite all right ill our little black hull or vestibule, where, upon the round table the very largest and thickest pair of navvy’s boots L ever saw were stand ing between my wife’s nAat little uni- I r.dla atida pairof her gardening gloves. Even in that awful moment I remember the sense of contrast and incongruity struck me almost as forcibly as the pres ence of the boots themselves, and thoy astonished me as much as the sight of the famous footprints did Robinson Crusoe, and for precisely the samo rea son. The boot and the print were noth ing in themselves, but my intelligence, now fully awakened, at once flow to the conclusion that somebody must have been there to leave them, and was proba bly in tho neighborhood, and, indeed, under my roof at that very moment. II you give Prof. Owen a foot of any crea ture (just as of less scientific persons wo say : (live them an inch, they will take an ell), he will build up the whole ani mal out of his own mind; and something id tno Professor’s marvelous instinct was on this occasion mine. I pictured to myself (and as it turned out, cor rectly) a monster more than six feet high, broad in the shoulders, heavy in the jowl, with legs like stone balus trades, and hands, but too often douched, of the size of pumpkins. The vestibule led into the pantry, where, n, doubt, this giant, with his one idea, or half a one, would conclude tho chief part of our plate to be, whereas it was lying— unices no hud already taken it—a terri ble thought that flashed through iny mind, followed by a cluster of others, like a comet with its tail—under our Nul. Of courso I could have gone into the pantry at oneo, but I felt averse to lie precipitate ; perhaps (upon finding noth ing to steal) this poor wretch would feel remorse for whut he had done and go axvay. It would boa wicked thing to deprive him of the opportunity of re pentance. Moreover, it strode mo that lie might not lie a thief after all, but only a cousin (considerably “removed”) of one of tlie innid-servaiits. It would have been very xvrong of her to have let him into the house at such an hour, ’nit it was just possible that she had done so, mid that he was at that moment supping ,n tlie kitchen upon certain cold grouse which I knexv xvere in the larder. Such u state of things, 1 repeat, xvould have been reprehensible, but I most sincerely hoped that it bad occurred. Ael an des tine attachment, however nik'placed, is better than burglary with possible vio lence. Coughing rather loudly, to givo the gentleman notice that I was about, and to suggest that ho had better take himself oli in my temporary absence, I went up to the attic to make inquiries. And here I am tempted to a digres sion concerning the excessive somno lency of female domestics. As regards our oxvn, at least, they reminded me, except iu number, of the Seven Sleep ers. 1 knocked ni, their door about a quarter of an hour before attracting their attention, mid it took mo another quarter to convince them (tbrongli the keyhole) that it xvos not lire. If it had been, they must all have been burnt in their beds. Itelieved upon this point, they xvere scarcely less excited and “ put out. ”by tho communication 1 was com pelled to make to them, though con veyed with the utmost delicacy and re finement of which language is capable. 1 asked them whether by any accident one of them chanced to have a male rel ntivo who wore exceptionally thick high lows ; and if he was likely to have called recently- that very e veoiug, for example. They nil replied i’.i indignant chorus that they hud never heard of such a thing by which they meant tho sug gestion ; and that no cousin of theirs ever did xvear highlows, being all fe males without exception. Satisfied as to this (and greatly disap pointed), I felt that it was now incum bent u;on me to pursue my researches. Candle in hand and pistol iu pocket, I therefore explored the pantry. To my great relief, it was empty. Was it jhih sible that the thief bad departed ? If so, lie had gone without Ills highloxvs, for they stood on the vestibule table as large as life, and, from the necessity of the ease, a size or two larger. Their build and bulk, indeed, impressed mo more than ever. Was it possible that one burglar bail oome iu those hoots? 1 entered the kitchen ; not a mouse was stirring; oil the other hand, there was a legion of black beetles, which scuttled, away iu nil directions except one. They avoided the dresser—beneath which lay the gentleman I xvas looking for, curled up in a spaco much too small for him, but affecting to be ill-deep. Indeed, though previously I had not heard him breathe, no sooner diii the light from my candle fall upon him than lie began to snore stortorous ly. I folt at once that this xvas to give me the idea of tho slumber that follows honest toil. I lcuoxv before lie spoke flint lie was going to tell me liow, tired and exhausted, he had taken shelter un der my roof, with no other object (how ever suspicious might bo the eiroum ■tanoos of liis position) than a night's rest, of which he stood in urgent need. “ Don’t shoot, sir," ho said, for 1 took care to let tho handle of Edward John’s pistol protrude from my dressing-gown. “ I am poor, but lugiest; I only came in here for tho warmth and to have a snooze. ” “How did you get in?” I inquired, sternly. “ I just prized up tlie xvaslms win der,” xvas his plaintive reply, “and laid down ’ere.” “Then, you put out your boots in tho hack hall to lie cleaned in tlie morning, I suppose ?” At this lie grinned a dreadful grin. It seemed to say, “As you have the whip hand of me, yon may be as humorous as yon please ; hut if it was not for that pistol, my tine friend, you would be laughing on the other side of your mouih, I reckon.” “Come, march,” said I. “Put on your boots.” lie got up as a wild tleast rises from his lair, and slouched before mo into the ball. Though he looked exceedingly wicked, I felt grateful to him for going so peace ably, an 1 was moved to compassion. “ Were you really in want that you came here?" I said. “Are you hun gry ?’’ “ Not now,” he answered with a leer. Of course he was intimating that he had supped at my expense, and at the time I thought it frank of him to ac knowledge it. If I had known then, as I learned afterward, that he had eaten a grouse and a half, and tho whole con tents of a large jar of Devonshire cream which we had just received as a present, I should have thought it mere impudence. I did think it rather im pudent when he said, as ho stood at the front door which I had opened for his exit: ‘‘Won’t you give roe half a crown, sir, to put me in an honest way of busi ness ?” Hut, nevertheless, thinking it better to part good friends, I gave him what he asked for. He spit upon the Coin “ for luck,” as he was good enough to explain, and also perhaps as a sub stitute for thanks, since lie omitted to give mo any, and slouched down tho gravel sweep and out of tho gate. It was 3 o'clock; tho mist had begun to clear, and the moon and stars were shining. A sort of holy calm began to pervade mo. I felt that I had done a good action and also got rid of a very dangerous individual, and that it was high time that I should go to bed in peace with all men. My wife, however, who liad been roused by the servants, was on the tiptoe of expectation to hear ali that had taken place, and of course I had to tell her. I described each thrill ing incident with such dramatic force that she averred that nothing would over induce her in my absence to sleep in the house again. This was perhaps but the just punishment for a trifle of exaggera tion xn the narrative with which I had here and there indulged myself, but it was very unfortunate. Now and then I find myself detained in town, after dining at tiie club, by circumstances over which 1 have no control (such as a rubber at, whist, which will sometimes stretch like india-rubber), und hitherto Iliad only had to telegraph in the afternoon to ex press my regret that there was a possi bility of my non return. Here was an end *to all this, unless I could reassure her. 1 therefore l>egan to dwell iq>on the unlikelihood of a second burglar ever visiting the house, which I com pared witli that famous hole made by a cannon ball, said to be a place of secu rity from cannon balls for evermore. . “Oli, don’t tell mo," cried my wifo, with just a trace of impatient irritation in her voice. “ Hark! goodness gra cious, what is that coming along tho road ?” Mho thought it was a burglar on horse back, whereas, if I may so express it, it was tho very contrary—namely, tno horse patrol. “Knock at tho window; call him in. I insist upon your seeing him,” she ox claimed. I had no alternative, since she said “ insist" (as any married man will understand),but to accede toiler wishes; so I went out and told (lie patrol what had happened. “ How long ago was the fellow hero, sir?” ho inquired. “ More than au hour. It is quite out of tho question you enn overtake him. And besides, I really think he is repen tant, and means for the futuro to lead an honest life.” “ You do, do you ?” raid tho patrol, in that sort of compassionate tone of voice in which tho visitor of a lunatic asylum addresses an inmate warranted harmless. “Well, as I am here, I’ll just go over the house and mako sure there is no more of them. It is not impossible, you see, ho may have left a pal behind iiim.” “ There xvas only one pair of boots,” said ’ confidently ; “of that lam cer tain." Nevertheless, as l felt it xvotild boa satisfaction to my xvife, I acceded to his request, lie tied Iris horse to the scrap er, and came in xvitli his lantern, and looked about him. There was nobody in tho front hull, of course, for I had just come through it; iu the draxving-room nobody, in the vestibulo nobody—but on the table where they lied stood before stood a pair of gigantic navy’s boots. “ What d’ye think of that?” whispered the patrol, pointing to one of them. “ They’re the same,” 1 answorod in hushed amazement, “they’re the very same. I could swear to them among a thousand. What can it mean?” " Well, it means that the gentleman who was going to lead a now life,” he answered dryly, “lias thought better of it and has come hock again.” And so he had. We found him lying iu the very same place under the dresser, awaiting, I suppose, events. “O Lor 1 is that you, Mr. Policeman?” he said, complainingly. “Then, it’s all up.” If lie had had to ileal xvitli me alone, heexpectod, perhaps, to have got another lialf-cioxvu out of me. But the great probability xvas, lie had doubtless argued that all suspicion of burglars, for that night at least, would have died out, and that ho would have had the undisputed range of tho house. It was a hold game, lmt one in which all tho chances seemed to he on his side. I helped to fasten a strong strap to his wrist, which was already attached to that of tho horse patrol’s. “And now,” said tho latter coolly, “wo will go and put on our hoots.” For the second time that night 1 saw that operation accomplished by my bur glar, for the second time saw him walk off, though on this occasion a captive to liis mounted companion. I did not wish, as tho Judges say when they put on the black cap, to add poign ancy to tho feelings of the nnlinppy man (he xvas on tieket-of-leave, and presently got five years’ penal servitude), but 1 could not help saying : “ I think yon ought to have been con tent xvitli your supper and half-a-crown, and not oome hero again, at all events iu search of plunder. This argument, it seemed, had no sort of weight with him ; gratitude was un known to that savage breast. Like many more civilized individuals, he at tributed his misfortunes to liis own virtue. “No, sir, it ain’t that,” he answered scornfully. “I’m the wietim of perse verance. ” Domestic Danger Signals. On the subject of domestic manage ment I may quote a recipe for avoiding family quarrels, which I think may fairly claim credit for good sense. It was given mo by an old man as invented ami practiced by a couple whom ho used to know, down " Chidding-lye " way. "You see, sir,” he said*, "they’dagree between themselves that whenever ho came home a little ‘ eontrairv' and out ol temper, bo xiore his hat oil the back of liis head, and then she never said a word ; and if she name in a little ‘ or ass ’ and crooked, she threw her shawl over her left shoulder, and then he never said a word ” If similarly xviso danger signals could be pretty largely used, how many un necessary collisions would lie avoided, and Low many a long train of evil con sequences woiild he safely shunted till the line was clear again. Leisure Hour. A of.xti.emax in South Florida own 40,000 orange trees, covering forty-two acres. Rats and Cockroaches on Board of Ship. The natural history of a voyage would be incomplete, however, without some reference to those old nautical mess mates, rats and cockroaches. Rats fre quently ascend the rigging, and when discovered aloft the word is given, and the unhappy rodeit has to run the gauntlet of marlingspikes held by will ing hands below. I have noticed several cases of apparent suicide by the rat on these occasons; it seemed to spring overboard from the rigging when it had descended almost to the shrouds, where enemies were stafcmed and cut off its escape. I have also seen it apparently spring overboard when pursued by my dog, the action appearing of a voluntary nature. My dog was a small Italian greyhound, presumably of pure breed, and the last animal that could be consid ered “ good for rats, ” However, such was the case, and a few of these trapped rodents in an empty beef cask provided always a moment cf excitement for this little and unlikely-looking dog. Tho explanation I take to bo this ; It is a custom to cross black-and-tan-terriers with the Italian greyhound to increase the length of tne note, and this lias gone on for some time, especially in breeding the so-called “ toy ", terriers. My little greyhound bitch probably had terrier blood, and inherited “instinct.” Bats seem to increaso in temerity with the length of the voyage, and their presence in time becomes less objectionable. Be fore the voyage wa flemished I quite lost the repugnance I at first felt when they sometimes ran across my bed at night. As regards the übiquitous cock roaches (Jilatta ep.) I learned to forget their depredations in admiration of their tenacity of life. Bennett records these insects as drinking the ink, and, as far as my experience goes, nothing comes amiss to them. Certainly, when they were found eating my arsenical soap, and apparently with immunity, I gave up all attempts at extirpating them from my cabin. At intervals the cock roaches would fly about during the night, and this I considered more disagreeable than the visits of rats. They, however, onlv took wing at rare intervals, and I have met with no explanation of that nabit. Dr. Sec man, in his “A Mission to Viti,” states that at Fiji cockroaches so swarm in some vessels that they have to lie stink under the water to free them from the pest. —London Field. Are Men’s Heads Growing Smaller! Allow me to draw the attention of your readers to a statement which is certainly strange, if true. An opinion is preva lent in tho hat trade that the size of men’s heads has undergone a decrease within the last thirty or forty years. The following statement has been given to me by a hatter whose name has attained a pre-eminence of a duration of moi'e than one generation. “Five and thirty years ago,” he says, “ when I xvas a young man, we used to purchase hats for retail trade in tho following ratio : Sizes 21-21)^—22—22>f-23 ins- Relative number.. o—l —2— 4 —3— 1 “At the present time,” he adds, “I am selling hats in this ratio : Sizes 21—21’ i— 22—22)^—23—23) i ins. Relative number.. 8— 4 3 1 l— 0 A manufacturer writes: “ I should say that heads generally are two sizes less than at the time you refer to. A head of more than txventy-four inches in circumference is now quite a rarity, while wo make thousands of hats for heads with a circumference of txventy-ouo inches.” I have received similar state ments from other members of the trade, both wholesale and retail, and therefore feel no futher apology is required for bringing them under your notice. Ac cepting the statement quantum valeat, I have endeavored to ascertain whether I could find any explanation or continua tion thereof. I have not succeeded, and, therefore, venture to ask information or opinions through your columns. The statement comes to me not ouly from men of intelligence and observation ex ercised beyond tho limits of tho shop or faotory ; it is, I am informed, extensively believed among hatters; it may, never theless, bo merely a general impression. The diminution, it is said, is observed mostly among grooms and men of that class in the social scale. If this is really tho case the change should also be noticeable also among soldiers. The diminution is possibly more apparent than real, and may be traoeable to the alteration iu the style of huir-outting, or of wearing tho hat. —Letter to Suture. Why Some Farmers Do Not Succeed. They are not active nud industrious. They are slothful in everything. They do not keep up xvitli improve ments. They are wedded to old methods. They give no attention to details. They think small things not important. They take no pleasure in their work. They regard labor as a misfortune. They weigh and measure stingily. They are xvastofnl and improvident. They are fretful and impatient. They ruin stock by loxv fencing. Theyletilieirgates sag and full down. They wilriiot make compost. They let their fowls roost in the trees. They have no shelter for stock. They do not curry tlieir horses. They leave their plows in the field. They hang their harness in the dust. They put off greasing the wagon. They starve the calf and milk the coxv. They go to town without business. They are i>enuy wise and pound foolish. They don’t know the best is the cheapest. They have no method or system. They go out too often to “see a man.” They see no good in a noxv thing. They never use paint on the farm. They plant very late in the spring. They stack fodder in the field. They prop the barn door with a rail. They let the clothes dry on the fence. They let the hoops fall from the tub. They neglect to trim up the trees. They have no shelter for wood. They milk the cows late in the day. They have no time to do things well. They have no garden in the fall. They see no use in variety. They see no difference* in seeds.— Southern Farmer's Monthly. A Novelist’s “ Pointer. ” Mr. James Payn, the novelist, tells ns that when ho was a very young mac and had very little experience, he was i end ing on a eoach-box an account of soru ■ gi g; in tie trees. One of them was desenK'd as sound outside ; hut within for rainy feet, a mass of rottenness mid decay. “ If a boy should climb up, bird-nesting, into the fork of it, thought I, he might go down feet first, old never be heard of again.” “Then," he adds, “it struck me what an appropriate end it would be for a character of a novel. Before I had left the coach-box, I hail thought out 1 Lost Sir Massingberd. ’ Such a pro cess lasted for a shorter time with Mr. Fayn than with the majority of novel ists ; with many the little seed might have germinated for years before it brought forth fruit. Yet Mr. Payn is re markable for tlie clearness and coherency of liis plots : they always bang together, and have a substantial backbone. GOSSIP FOR TIIE LADIES. Quel Uiauinncef It was just Cousin Jack, and so—whst wsa tho barm? Wo sat on the step*, for the evening wm warm; We spoke very softly, and—as to his arm, It was just Cousin Jack, and so—what was tho harm ? .. The scent of the hay-fields crept up from the farm, . , We were quite in the dark, save the fire-flic* swarm. (It was just Cousin Jack, and so—what was the harm?) , , .. A bird, from the hedge whirring up, broke the charm; He bent, as I Btarted in foolish alarm. And—*twas just Cousin Jack, and so—what was the harm ? —Eleanor I'utnam, in The Century . TV 0111:111% Wif. A woman’s advice is generally worth having-; so, if you are in any trouble, toll your mother, or your wife, or your sister all about it. Bo assured that light will flash upon your darkness. Women are too commonly judged verdant in all but purely womanish affairs. No philo sophical students of tho sex thus judge them. Their intuitions or insight are most subtle, and if they cannot see a cat in the meal there is no cat there. I ad vise a man to keep none of his affairs from his wife. Many a home has been saved and many a fortune retrieved by a man’s confidence in his wife. Woman is far more a seer and a prophet than a man, if she be given a fair chance. Asa general rule tho wives confide the minut est of their plans and thoughts to their husbands. Why not reciprocate, if but for the pleasure of meeting confidence with confidence? The men who succeed best in life are those who make confi dants of their wives. Follower*, of Beaut y. It is a curious and striking fact, of which intelligent men take notice with a mixture of envy and jealousy, that women of high culture and endowments so readily accept the attentions of fash ionable boobies. 1 once asked a charm ing miss, who was herself no exception to the general rule, the meaning of this, when she replied that ladies were fond of receiving attentions, and so long as thoy got them they were not so particular as to tho source they came from. “Beside,” said she, “however excellent men of sense aro as husbands, they make very indifferent beaux ; they are so dreadfully in earnest in what they say or do, and overpower you so with their sense, that it is a positive relief to turn to one of these more amusing trifiers.” “Well,” said I, a little net tled by this explanation, “if sense is so little appreciated, teach me to talk nonsense, that I may make myself more agreeable-to you.” “Oh,” said she, “ you are doing that very well already. But seriously,” added she, “the great est objection to sensible men, next to their being so few in number, is that they prefer to be the slaves of their own whims rather than of ours. A man of sense enthrones one among us as the queen of his affections, and restricts his attentions to her alone, while every one of those ‘ dawdlers,’ as you call them, is the loyal subject of at least a dozen, who, however, never permit him to ap proach their throne but to bow before it, and to bear away their commands.” A Woman's Wliims. The Empress Josephine had 000,000 francs for her personal expenses, but this sum xvas not sufficient, and her debts increased to an appalling degree. Notwithstanding the position of her husband, she could never submit to either order or etiquette in her private life. She rose at 9 o’clock. Her toilet consumed much time, and she lavished unwearied efforts on tlie preservation aiul embellishment of her person. She changed her linen three times a day, and never wore any stockings that were not new. Huge baskets were brought to her containing different dresses, shawls and hats. From these she selected her costume for the day. She possessed between 300 and 400 shaxvls, and always wore one in the morning, which she draped about her shoulders with unequaled grace. She purchased all that were brought to her, no matter at what price. The evening toilet was as careful as that of the morning ; then she appeared with Hoxvers, pearls or precious stones in her hair. The smallest assembly xvas always an occasion for her to order anew costume, iu spite of the hoards of dresses in the various palaces. Bonaparte was irritated by these ex penditures ; he would fly intoa passion, unit his xvife would weep and promise to be more prudent, after xvliich she would go on in the t amo xvay. It is almost in credible that this passion for dress should never have exhausted itself. After the divorce she arrayed herself with the same care, even when she saw no one. She died covered with ribbons and pale rose-colored satin. Shall Women Practice Medicine? The most Be.rious obstacles to be en countered are not always the mod real ones. In this, as .in everything that xvomen do, the question of capacity is often outranked by the question of taste. Whether woman, with all her organic imperfections on her head, can be theo retically supposed capable of the study and practice of medicine; whether, xvliich is unite a different question, there actually exist any number of women xvhose capacity in this direction has been fairly tested an 1 demonstrated—these are interesting subjects of inquiry. But the most completely affirmative answer to such inquiry might still leave unset tled a question of much more import ance for that large class of people whose conditions aud actions are under the permanent domination of tlieir tastes. These ask not, “Is she capable ?” but, “Is this fearfully capable person nice?” Will she upset our ideal of xvoinim liood, aud maidenhood, and tlie social relations of her sex ? Can a woman physician be lovable? can she marry? can she have children? will she take care of them ? If she can not, what is she? “ Qv'est ce fju'ttue / nime," said a French journalist in this connection, " qui n’est ni espouse ni mere f" “God,” declared a Boston 1 hvsieian well versed in the counsels of Providence, “never intended women to practice medicine.” Hence the infer ence that piety, if nothing else, de manded the exclusion of women from fie Massachusetts Medical Society. It is from the peculiarity of the conditions involved that the handful of women now engaged in the practice of medicine may bo considered in any way t effect or en d inger existing arrangements or social ideals. Thousands of xvomen, from manifold canses quite extraneous to medicine, remain celibates all their lives ; vet no one reproaches them for refusing the duties of wife and mother. Thousands of women earn their living by non-domestic labor; one profession, * that of public teaching, practical’v thrown open to w omen only during the last half century, is already thronged by them. Yet no one feels that the foundations of so ciety are therefore liable to be over thrown. What is it in the profes sion of medicine which excites at present such a different feeling and such bitter prejudice? There are sev eral things. In the first place, the profession of medicine has been sub jected to popular misconceptions, and the odium due to these is necessarily shared by the women who aspire to bo physicians. Again, tty a social fiction, it is assumed that the usual employ ments now sought by women are to be filled by them only while waiting for marriage, or as a resource in widow hood or desertion. Even such profes sional work as teaching is expected to be laid aside after a few years, and there is much, at least in the primary grades of teaching, to mako such interrup tions rather desirable. But the pro fession of medicine must be chosen de liberately, and not at haphazard, from a strong and genuine taste, and not from the mere pressure of economic necessity; it must be seriously prepared for in yonth ; must be entered upon at the age at which at present many women marry; does not yield its best returns until full maturity has been reached; must be adopted, therefore, if at all, for a life time. Hence is requirecLeitlier an acci dental celibacy or deliberate renuncia tion of marriage for tho sake of medi cine, suchasis not dreamed of in regard to any other work, or else such an ad justment of domestic claims as shall render them and the practice of medi cine by married women mutually com patible.— North American Review. What a Woman Can 80. Asa wife and mother, woman can make the fortune and happiness of her husband and children; and, if she did nothing else, surely this would be suffi cient destiny. By her thrift, prudence, and tact, she can secure to her partnei and to herself a competence in old age, no matter how small their beginning, or how adverse a fate may be theirs. By her cheerfulness she can restore her hus band’s spirit, shaken by the anxiety of business. By her tender care she can often restore him to health, if disease has overtasked his powers. By her counsel and love she can win him from bad company, if temptation in an evil hour has led him astray. By her exam ple, her precepts, and het sex’s insight into character, she can mould her child ren, however adverse their dispositions, into noble men and women. And, by leading in all thing a true and beautiful life, she can refine, elevate, and spiritu alize all who come within reach ; so that, with others of her sex emulating and as sisting her, she can do more to regener ate the world than all the statesmen ot reformers that ever legislated. She can do much, alas ! perhaps more, to degrade man if she chooses to do it. Who can estimate the evils that woman has the power to do ? Asa wife can she ruin herself by extravagance, folly, or want of affection. She can make a de ■ mon or au outcast of a man who might otherwise become a good member of so ciety. She can bring bickering, strife, and discord into what has been a happy home. She can change the innocent babes into vile men and even into vile women. She can lower the moral tone of society itself, and thus pollute legis lation at the spring head. She can, in fine, become an instrument of evil in stead of an angel of good. Instead of making flowers of truth, purity, beauty and spirituality spring up in her footsteps, till the earth smiles with a loveliness that is almost celestial she can transform it to a black and arid desert, covered with the scorn of all evil passion and swept by tho bitter blast of everlasting death. This is what woman can do for the wrong as well as for the right. Is her mission a little one? Has she no worthy work, as has become the cry of late? Man may have a harder task to perform, a rougher road to travel, but lie lias none loftier or more influen tial than woman’s. flow Gold is Hoarded. An additional, and by no means ade quately appreciated, cause of the strin gency of money is the growth of the passion for hoarding gold among the lower classes with the increase of pros perity. Our immense foreign popula tion does not crave half as much for paper money as it does for gold. Some of them —the Italians, the Austrians, for instance —had some sad experiences with paper money at home. They don’t know anything about the solidity of greenbacks, bank notes, bonds, and savings banks. What they are anxious to get is a gold piece, and the moment they get it they hide it. Nothing but the* opportunity of buying at a bargain land, cattle, or a house, ever brings these gold pieces out again. It has been cal culated that some $200,000,000 have thus been abstracted from the circulation during the last three years of groxving prosperity throughout the continent. Women represent a very important factor in this hording process. A woman of almost any European nationality pre fers a gold coin to a piece of clothing, a piece of furniture, or anything else—ex cept, possibly, a piece of jewelry. An •old Frenchman told me the other day that ho avoids ever going home with a gold piece in his pocket, for he is sure that his xvife would steal it at night and try to persuade him next morning that the coin must have rolled out-of liis pocket, “Yet she is a very honest woman,” added he. “She xvould never touch the bank notes, lmt her passion for hoarding gold is invincible. I don’t mind it, though, for she will give it all back if a rainy day comes.— Sew York Sun. The Purpose of Reading. Every reader should know the pur pose for which lie reads. Usually this purpose is either rest, amusement, or what may he called improvement. A boy or girl, tired by work in the shop or house, takes up Hawthorne's “Wonder Book,” —that is reading for rest. Fretted by low marks at school, one becomes ab sorbed in “Swiss Family Robinson”— that is reading for amusement. Eager to instruct the mind, you read Ban croft’s “History of the United States”— that is reading for improvement. The three purposes are frequently combined. One may find iu reading Macaulay’s “Essay on Bacon,” rest, amusement, and improvement. Of these purposes that of improve ment of mind aud heart is most impor tant. In all reading whose immediate aim is either recreation or pleasure, the remote aim should be the formation of a noble character. No one should read a book without resolving to be aided by it iu every right endeavor. The purpose for which ono reads de termines the choice ot the book. If you are in doubt what to read, form a clear idea of the reason of your reading, au.l the selection of a proper book is made easy. —Morgantown Press. Con. Forxet mado no publio be quests, but instructed his executors to endeavor to secure repayment by the Government of $49,000 paid out while Secretary of the Senate on account of tlie defalcation of a subordinate. BITS OF INFORMATION. The bicycle was invented in Paris in IS2O. The first lucifer match was made in 1829. The first iron steamship was built in 1830. The galloon ascent was made in 1783. Hats wore first made in England by Spaniards in 1510. The first American play put upon the stage was “ The Contrast,” written by Royal Tyler, of Vermont. Mason and Dixon’s line is tiie bound ary line between the States of Maryland and Pennsylvania. The line was sur veyed by Mason and Dixon, two mas ters of the science, sent from England for that purpose. According to the returns from the Census Bureau, the people of Maine are the best educated community in tho Union. Here are some items from the report mentioned. Percentage of those who cannot read: Maine 2.80 per cent. New York 3.28 per cent. Connecticut 3.37 per cent, Pennsylvania 3.41 per cent. New Hampshire 3.45 per cent. Vermont 3.91 per cent. Massachusetts 4.24 per cent. Khcdo Island 6.21 per cent, A locker, in seamen's parlance, is a place where stores are kept. Jones is a corruption of Jonah, and Davy is “duffy,” the name among West Indians for a spirit or ghost. “ Gone to Davy Jones’ locker” is, therefore, “gone to a place of safe-keeping, where Duffy Jonah was seut.” The expression is generally applied to one lost overboard, the reference to Jonah being obvious, When on the union of the two crowns Loudon was inundated with Scotchmen, Buckingham was the chief instigator of the movement against them, and parties used to go about every night and break their windows. To retaliate, a party of Scotchmen smashed the windows of tho Duke’s mansion, which had so many glass windows that it was called the Glass House. The court favorite ap pealed to the King, who replied, “Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.” Nobody knows where tho potato came from originally. It has been found ap parently indigenous in many parts of the world. Mr. Darwin, for instance, found it wild in the Chonos archipelago. Sir W. J. Hooker says that it is com mon at Valparaiso, where it grows abundantly on the sandy hills near the sen. In Peru, and other parts of South America, it appears to be at home, and it is a noteworthy fact that Mr. Dar win should have noted it, both in the humid forests of the Chonos arch ipelago and among the Central Chilian mountains, where sometimes rain does not fall for six months at a stretch. It was to the colonists whom Sir Walter Raleigh sent out in Elizabeth’s reign that England is indebted for potatoes. Herriot, who came out with these colo nists, and who wrote an account of his travels, makes what may, perhaps, bo regarded as the earliest mention of this vegetable. Chimneys were unknown in England until the twelfth century, and even then they were made the subject of legisla tion, as windows were at a later day. Only one chimney was allowed in a manor-house, one in a religious house, and one in the great hall of a castle. When fireplaces became the luxuries of the rich, the flues extended only a few feet into the thickness of the wall, and were then turned out through the wall to tho back of tho fireplace, the openings being small oblong holes. In the days of Henry VIII. no fireplace was allowed at the University of Oxford. Indeed, it was not until the beginning of the six teenth century that the old state of things—a lire in tho center of the hall, the smoke escaping through the roof— was altered. An examination of the chimneys in the great halls of manor houses will prove that they must have been inserted about this period. Women’s Masculine Idols. Every man who fills an effective pub lic position has an especially good op portunity of moralizing upon feminine frivolity and frailness. A handsome actor, a good-looking popular preacher, a charming singer, finds the women go doxvn before him much as the ladies do before the hero of Patience. As very High Church young ladies delight in standing up out of reverence to very young curates when they enter the church, so there are many women who would be charmed to go down on their knees when one of the heroes of society enters a drawing-room. Good looks are not alxvays necessary, though as a rule women prefer their idols to be hand some. Excessive notoriety will do in stead. The men who, with no personal charms—with, as in some recent in stances, a positive unpleasantness about them—go through society worshiped and adored by the women, must indeed bo iuclinod to adopt the true Guy Liv ingstonian view of tlie other sex. These ladies who sneak after the man of mush room notoriety, imploring him to come to their afternoons, begging him for his photograph or a copy of his poems, or an autograph letter, or a lock of his hair —must appear to him very “poor little beasts ” indeed. But however he may despise them, he can, to a certain extent, understand their motives. They wnnt other women to see him talking to them, to meet him at their houses, to be aware that he has written letters to them and given them his photograph. The idea these women entertain must be that they obtain a second-hand distinction by be ing associated in people’s minds with tho idol of the hour. Women have from all time regarded it as sufficient honor for themselves to be the favorites of great men. This is but a modern ren dering of the old story. They have made it tho fashion to sit in adorning circles, around their hero, and gaze upon him with meek eyes of wonder, much as if he were a Persian prince, and they his humble slaves. But there is none of the charm of danger in this, and perhaps not much excitement; for it is all done in public, and has become a prominent feature in the programme of most drawing-room entertainments.— London World. A Condemned Man’s tittle Daughter. “ Papa, dear papa, I’m glad you’re going to die, tor you know, papa, that if you were not going to die, you would be taken away off into a dark prisoD where I could never see you any more ; and you know, papa, that would grieve you so much that you would not live very long anyhow, so I think everything is best 03 it is, don’t you, papa ? And I will grow up to be a* big girl, and I will be so good, papa, that every one will love me, aud I will never forget you, papa, nor how much yon loved your little Mary.” This strangely affecting speech xvas made in tho St. Louis jail to a man who was to be hanged. A periodical was started not long ago, the first number of which contained a letter from a correspondent who signed himself “ A Constant Reader.”