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ootnmr 0 ^ Swllipi * * i •£ V:- 4 . a i uim ii min K "Oar Ambition is to make a Yeracions Work, Reliable in its \ g Statements, Candid in its Conclusions, and Just in its Views. ” VOL. I. It i8 estimated that $250,000 worth of Crain was raised on the unused portion ,f public ro ads in Iowa last season. There are in Germany alone 8000 Sunday schools, 80,000 teachers and 300 000 scholars, where twenty-five years 4g o there w a3 not one. The sum of $400,000 was recently offered for the well-known English medical journal, the Lancet , which was founded in 1823 by Doctor Wakely. The offer was declined, the paper not being fnr sa i e . “ Three physicians have left Paris for Australia, taking with them germs of chicken cholera. The Australians are about to adopt Pasteur’s plan of de stroying their rabbits, in the face of very strong opposition. In the office of the Recorder of Deeds, Philadelphia, is preserved a justice’s docket over 100 years old. One of the entries in the volume is as follows: “Commonwealth agt. Stephen Blunt, July 24, 1778. Charged of drinking Damnation to General Washington and all his army. Defendant held in £200.” Ten tons of Texan cotton seed were recently shipped from Texas to Zanzibar, Africa. An experienced planter accom panied the seed for the purpose of in structing the natives of Zanzibar in the cultivation of the cotton plant. This event marks the introduction of the cot ton plant on the eastern coast of Africa. Tho Reverend A. J. Swartz, of Chi cago, a believer in metaphysical healing, says that a letter was recently sent by a family in New Zealand describing the symptoms of a friend in this country who was sick with diphtheria. So graphically was the epistle written that its recipients in New Zealand at once became ill frem diphtheria. Old Fhilip Winebiddle, the founder of the lYinebiddle Estate in East Liberty, Penn., bought 100 acres of land where the City of Erie now stands sixty years ago and paid $500 for it. Almost be fore the ink was dry on the papers he made up his mind that he had been swindled, but thirty years later the land could not be bought for $2,000,000, and it is now worth $3,000,000. A correspodent, writing from Havana, says that ne never saw a people so clean in regard to their dress. A Cuban stev edore will load molasses on a vessel for a week and one can hardly find a spot upon the white suit when Saturday night comes. The clerks in Havanna look as if they had just stepped out of band boxes. They are usually dressed in pat ent leather gaiters, silk stockings and linen trousers and shirts that are spot lessly white. According to United States Consul, Smithers, our Chinese brethren have recently been playing some sad tricks upon the barbarian merchants of the M est. Camels’ hair and wool received in London fromTientsin have been loaded with sand to the extent of one-third of their weight; hides have been gener ally woimy, and many shipments of straw braids have been a total loss, ow ing to damp straw and inferior dyes. Many of these Chinese commodities are now coining to this country. It is a matter of general interest to know that in two years more a century will have elapsed since the first success ful crop of sea-island cotton was raised by William Elliott, at Hilton Head, 8outh Carolina. It is suggested that it would be appropriate that South Caro lina should take steps to celebrate in '■•no the centenary of the creation of tliis great staple, which has been so im portant an element in the material pro gress of that and other Southern States. ' ommenting on this suggestion the Charleston Mews and Courier says: The matter is well worthy of consid eration. The finest cotton in the world is grown on the sea islands of South ’ arolina. A cotton exposition to be held in Charleston in the fall of 1890 ’’ould be an appropriate way in which to dualize one of the greatest events in l? 'istory of American life. The first from°* 8 -^■ mcr ^ orb ‘ caa T"he cotton most was remarkable shipped achiever in the cultivation of the staple , , , nav (arolina pit. ned th labors f g h ... :. crs. Here we have every ___ and°the n uLs'c dot e .f he ib P ! laat ting the Jt « ? uaIitiea groWG at our very \ lcked , fields; it is ginne'e. 11 13 P ln ™ in our presses, ^"houses, nd women packed la our mills, shipped from woul<f o har ; eS Th ° U sands of people ' ‘ tion in honor of the ki nda “ ex f s > and there is nc ^ out ^ ern commerce, co^ or P in which he can hold his Charleston, the first and best N^an m can cotton ports.” tnen ; GRAY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1888. LOVE ETERNAL. The changing sky hath glories ever new; The evening splendors bring a fresh delight; The Thesun morning each rises day clothed in new born light creates his throning blue: The stars at evening shine upon the dew, Not with those rays which broke primeval night; Those leaves return not which last year were bright. This spring hath others of the self same hue. Yet the same law reneweth flower and spray; ot are the sun and stars the same alway; In the same heavens their wonders they proclaim. And such is love, in times past and to-day, Delighting still fresh deeds and songs to frame, But in its inmost heart abiding still the same. —Edgar Foskctt SERAPHINE’S ROMANCE. ISY EVELYN THOItr. She irresistibly suggested a bird. Not . a plump, consequential, prosperous-look mg robin. Not any sort of bird with gay plumage quite (Mile. Seraphine’s plumage wa< of the dullest and the most modest). Not a dapper little sparrow, either. Mile. Seraphine was small fighting enough. But there was no spark of the have propensity held in her; she could never her head up again if she had had hot words with any one. The bird Mile. Seraphine, with her faded yellow hair, was always suggestive of w T as a canary—the meek, underfed variety cf canary which passes its existence in a wooden cage at a high rear window where the sun never shines. The other kind which pearls its beaming notes behind gilded bars, and is fed by her own dainty longs fingers in madam’s boudoir, be of course to quite a different class of canary, as every one knows. It was Mile. Seraphine’s fate, shy, re served, delicately relined little spirit that she was, to be lodged in a large, clamor ous boarding house in a down-town cross and street, far over east, filled early late with the effluvia of cooking and the boisterous slamming of doors'. To be sure, she did not hear much of the clamor during the day. She had her lessons to give. She taught her native tongue in various edut ational establish ments where the daughters of our Gotham families are instructed in the last refinements of civilization, and where her faded yellow hair (they thought it was brella a wig) and her water proof and um hilariously (a cotton one, these young ladies of much abiding particularized) were the cause merriment. It is pos sible that Mile. Seraphine was quite un conscious of these graceful little jests. She was a trifle nearsighted and absent minded, too, at times. One rainy night, a night when the wind made wild clutches at one’s umbrella and the street lamps later flared, Mile. Seraphine came in and more weary than usual, and met her landlady on the stairs. “There’s no use,” said that worthy person, whose equanimity seemed to have suffered a most serious shock, “that fel low’s got to go." no better? Oh!” murmured Mile. Seraphine, not so wet or tired but that she could stop to listen to this tale of woe. Oh, yes, he’s better! But he’s got to go all the same. I can’t keep him no more. I’ve got my own interests to look after. And he ain’t got a cent to pay his board with, and I’ve lost ten dol lars by him already.” “Oh.'.” mnrmured Mile. Seraphine again. She went to the dining-room, where she ate, without appetite, the rem nants of a cold dinner, and then back to her own little room, where she took out books and the pile of exercises waiting to be corrected. But she could not fix her mind and her heart was heavy with in her. She finally rose and, extracting a worn old purse from her little leather trunk, counted over its meagre contents. This much had been laid aside to buy a new against pair of shoes and a heavier cloak the Winter. But there wore more urgent needs even than her own. Alas! How full the world was of trouble! She wrapped what the purse contained hllT e At1h Pe a l d thC “ S /° le Cr0SS th hali. At tho sick man’s door she h paused l with a heating heart. It was very hard to do these things. How should she avoid offending? Perhaps he was asleep, and then she could slip the envelope under his handand leave the room again unnoticed. The door was partly ajar, and she pushed it very softly. But were w n e r» 1C wide ^T nan open and ^i 0t seemed c aSle !!t' twice w too . had liaTl left f R V, him, hlS h but 1 \ 9t h he d looked so !o frciZ feeble and spent that Mile. Seraphine beauti- s pity welled up in her eyes in a look so ful that it made her for the moment al most lovely. He was much younger than she, and she felt like a mothei to him. Besides, it suddenly seemed easier, seeing him lie there, a fellow-creature, friendless, ill and in that distre-s, helping to hand offer simply and earnestly held. the^mod As ^amaritan for Stephen wouid Holme, not have when witt be understood wha sh f him m his weak , state, ( after his loneliness and hopefulness, it was too much. For a few seconds he could not *P ea “Mile. ,,, Seraphine, „ ,. if ., eterl r get nn on mr- my * et '^ again j Tviondod ^!pp , . (.laontJi’o- S f’hin little hands softlv in her Fre cli , “flo not sav 1 anything b - ": more. soon n But ! now C0U ” you e „T,°“ must S think in?nk of of noth- no h mg but that. And tlien he huinel awa . Youth-and the one ray of sunshine, the one token of human go , S mi (^d their work A«d the got better, and finally well enough to crawl out of doors on one of the last mild days of the early winter and to look for other quarters. •‘’Cause if he ain’t got no situation, and no money cornin’ in I can’t keep him,” announced Mrs. Brady, conclus ively. that “There’s othet parties that’ll take room, and sure pay. And I can’t take no risks.” Mile. Seraphlne shrank away a little, and flushed faintly over her sallow cheek, as she often did at Mrs. Brady’s words. But then she upbraided herself for men tally She accusing the landlady of brutality. was a poor woman, too. Once more she had recourse to another little fund tucked away in the leather trunk, and this time it was the last there saved up. “It is very little. But it may do for the first few weeks till—” she added eagerly, seeing the young man’s flush, you get something to do.” “I can’t take anything more from you, Mile. Seraphine. God bless you!” “You will hurt me,” she said, “if you refuse. H And so he took it. But getting any thing passed to do was hard. And the days on. And once, coming back footsore and dejected and faint, for he was not yet strong, to the room over a shop lodged, on the avenue hard by, where he he met Mile. Seraphine return ing from her lessons. “Where is it you live?” she asked. The following day there was a timid knock at his door. She had brought him some copying to do. “I got it without any trouble,” she said, with her deprecating eagerness, be fore he could speak; “they thought it was for myself.” After that, one day, while giving her lesson in the house of a French resident, who had married an American lady, and to whose children she had been nursery governess, she heard the son, who happened his to be at home, casually remark that father needed an extra clerk. An idea implanted itself then under Mile. Seraphine’s queer little faded yellow curls, and germinated on the morrow. The French gentleman’s office was on aphine Bowling Green. Poor little Mile. Ser entered it3 precincts with a tre mendous spirit and a faltering step. Her whilom employer looked up with a mored scowl which changed recognition to a good-hu- of her. smile upon his He had always liked this grotesque-look ing found little heart Seraphine, and errand. Mile. Seraphine to state her “Well, what sort of references has he, this young protege of yours?” he asked at length. “Oh, 1 am sure they will be found of the very best!” cried Mile. Seraphine, clasping The her hands most earnestly. laughed and French-American looked down at her quizzically. “It’s evident that they would be if you had the giving ol them,” he Cried with jocose intention. And Mile. Sera phine whelmed blushed crimson, and was so over with confusion that she turned the wrong way to go out. “This way,” said the gentleman, tak ing her with playful good nature by the arm. In T the it little side i office a, into ■ . which i . . she , had blundered a young girl sat over a type-writer, (.he laised her eyes for second, and Mile. Seraphine thought she had never seen a more ovely lace. “Oh, what a beautiful young creature!” she wispered as she went out. “But how c ob ' She , has leason to . , be, poor child, said her pilot sympa hetieally. “It is one of those reverses of fortune which are much too common with us over here. Her father was well to do ; he died pen mless. “Poor The girls a !” 1 s.gned had to something. Mile Sera creatures phine, whose heart was always bleeding lor some one. On the evening before the day when he was to begin his duties in his new po srtion, Stephen Holme asked Mile. Sera phine to take a walk with him. It was a soft and balmy starlit night, a respite and breathing space half way between the beginning and the end of the winter. 1 hey walked into t eadjacen square. It preoccupied was silent and and lonely said Stephen was little for some anTno onewas ffisiuht S t, ^e he betran began t re mu calf lnuslv ! “Mile Seranhine Mile Seranhine looked un and then down with a prophetic emotion which r °i Cd her that S0 T t iDg never bef0r ° heard of f was going . to happen. b “Mile. Seraphine, if I get on, will you ‘ man-vine?” , Well, as soon as she could speak she urge d upon him the difference in their yearS) b<;r plainness, the obvious fact that, with his way to make, he must not hamper himself with a wife. w “Ferhaps ” Stephen you said think it is gratitude on have gravely. “It is not. You b(!en ’ an<l are > more t0me tlian any one else ever was.” And so they became engaged. And Mile. Seraphine, who had always looked 0 i der than she really was, seemed to grow by that much younger, and more, as the winter spread on and the spring weathe r came, when, after Stephen H o lme bad had hls dinner, he would ; call for her, and they would take the cars to the park, and waik slowiy about under the weet-smeHmg trees or sit in tbe i ltt i e gummer house and look out on I the small sheet of water. After A with Stephen Holme had been a month or two his new employer he had seen a chance .°mised formaking an investment which P r good results, had and in his talks with Mile. Seraphine lamented his P ov f rt y, which prevented him taking ad Va ?v,^° f t- tV '’' bera P blne ® a,r j DOthlU ff p IjUt f J- 10 ^ ext day *he had ’ gone t tr ’ n t le f a '' 1 ""” bank , and ” ut r>f l 4 I . lar f by n dollar f„ , and ? lau b “ ard away » Baved against up sick- dol-1 ness, Stephen. against a rainy It day, and brought it t0 worldly represented all her missession and Stephen, who had not dreamed of its^ existence,, re v i’.l.f.i.owed 4 , i hlJiS R L.pteS « At first all had promised well. But one evening Stephen had come in looking miserably nothing haggard and white. He said until they sat in their accustomed place and then by the water’s edge in tho park, he broke down and, crying like a child, told her that the money was all gone; the investment had proved disas trous. Then Mile. Seraphine had laid her hand on his arm and, forcing him to raise his head, had shown him a face oa which there was only pity for him and a per fectly serene smile. What did it. mat ter? Was it his fault? she asked. Were they not able to work both of them? Was not one there to help the other? about “Seraphine”—Stephen the put his arm queer little figure and kissed her—“you are the best woman on God’s earth. ” She hoped he would forget tho mis chance. And after awhile he did seem to weeks brighten she fancied again. But within a few that he grew paler and that there was a troubled look in bis eyes. In her delicate soul sho shrank from plying him with questions. She feared that he was thinking still of that little sum of hers he had taken and lost. In every subtle way she tried to show her indifference to the loss. And Stephen, on his side, was constantly more gentle and tender with this pale, weird-looking little creature who was to be his wife. She felt vaguely that it was as though ho wished to atone to her for something. .The summer was now well advanced, and the days and nights succeeded each other in slow and sultry order. Wisps of straw and greasy waifs of brown paper invaded the choicer sections of tho the city, now forsaken of their tenants, and cordant heavy air was filled with the dis wail of distant hand organs. Well, all, Seraphine’s pupils had flown, one and for the summer, and she had made her plans for her ten days’ vacation at a farm house ou Long Island which constituted her one yearly diversion. until Stephen Monday, would go out from Saturday and what more could one wish? If she had not been so keenly alive to the sorrows of so many of her fellow-beings continually whose around wretchedness and thinlc- she saw her, ingof be taking whom it seemed days almost sinful to ten whole of idleness and gladness, the world, as she rode down to give,Stephen Bowling Green one last bright morning to trails/ some direction as to “a" or what not—for one—would this expedition have been was momentous to Mile. Seraphine more beautiful than 'i'h,e head of the firm was away, as were.many of his subordinates, but a boy told Mile. Seraphine where she would find Stephe n Holme. She passed into the office where she had pleaded Stephen's cause with the head of the firm that day, and finding it empty turned toward the other parti tioned inclosure where tho beautiful girl sat over the type writer. But then she stood still. She made no sound. She was only there a moment, ye. -it seemed like eternity. Stephen fvas in there, anti ha stood before the beantifu! girl and looked down at her, with 8U ch a passion of love and gorrow and renunciation in his f while she buried hers in her hand ’ that a vei , tore away before Mlfo . s ' hlne and sho rea d the secret cf tbe las t few mon ths, of Stephen’s altered looks, of his troubled eyes, of his increased devotion—devotion which was onl , lt that would not permit itself to 8W tho erve, ’ however had tempted-as Written in plainly fiery a , « h it been charact rs before hel , she turned and £ p;isgcd out people again. And neither of tll0SC t 0 young J ” \ \ who loved eacb other hftd sec mr so ab . sorbed had they J been in their own d f a ; r T he gas flftred bigb in Mlle< Seraphine’s room tbafc night . high and late. And wben the morning Gripped dawned the little room was dismantIecl ’ “ of its few poor ]Ut , effort8 at \ race Dd pret tiness, and the smaU leat er trunk was packed, q any f mon ths ago a letter had come to MUe Seraphine \ from a cousin who, go ■ far cu Wcst , bad settled; a letter tellin £ her that if sho chose to come sho migbt be ab]e t0 teach something considered there, though Frenchmight pupTs still had be all paid for a su P erfluity ’ The 1 ^Bhe would not leave any trace behind her. !,,irhra,lit Tf she did sttenben P would Th!t still twiliim w What! lie so young, so handsome! such^as marry a faded nlaffi middle-aged woman she was. One who looked no wild and haggard reddened^eyes, in the grav morning he*r light, hollow with cheeks! her had and No, no. bhe only been dreamimr It must never be Bv and by, Stephen, who had only cured for her because he could not be unorateful would forget and marry the beautiful rrj r [ he loved and he should be hannv And for her there was always enough to car ry her on a few months and then— who knows'’ And that is why a good natured man, traveling wondered westward that same day, once or twice whether the queer-looking f adf d little party with the . )ock of yellow hair who sat next him could be crying l ,Z_ behind iier thick veiL IIe fancied 0 New York Mercury, ' — ■ ———--- A Novel Scale. Three men of Chillicothe, Ohio, are about to begin tho manufacture of a novel scale for which they hold patents, Instead of weighing in pounds ounces it indicates the value of articles weighed. For example, if a man buys butter at 80 cents a pound, an indicator is placed at 30. 'i liis so adjusts the sca | 0 that the lower indicator shows the value of any weight of butter at that price that is put on the scales. The machines on this principle will be manufactured to weigh up to tons.— Ctucoyo Mali. The j.oriki.ll., d~„ b, meo, i. tb. national vehicle of Japan. HOUSEHOLD MATTERS. Woman’s Work. With many a turn my steps I take. in many a crook and crevice, And many a biscuit I must bake For Maud and me and Levis. I sweep, 1 dust, 1 cook, 1 rise I Up in the morning early, and wash the breakfast dishes I chum and dress tho baby, I make the dust and dry leaves fly I Against my new broom fairly. chatter, Because chatter ns I go, I rest so rarely, “For men may corrto and men may go, But I go on forever, ever, I go on forover.” I move about and in and out, While here tho chickens feeding, And here and there at' a hawk to shout, But little they are heeding. I walk, I run, I skip, I hop From one thing to another; I stop to dress a bruise or cut, For the children run to mother Then to tho garden 1 must go To see what work is needed, For plants must bo set out, you know, And then they must be weeded. For men can’t stop, for they must go, But wo Work on forever, ever, We work on forever. I scrape t he tray and “put to rights" The dining room and kitchen, I then go in iny room to sow And try to do some stitching. I wonder if there is on earth No respite from our labors, No time to go and gossip some With pleasant, friendly neighbors. Before i end this piece of work And try to think a little, I throw it down and run and make A tiro, and put on tho kettle. For men must eat and go, you know, But women can go, never. Yes, men will come and men will go, But we work on forever, over, We work on forever. — Courier-Journal. Hard and Son Water fn Cooking. All cooks do not understand the dif ferent effects produced by hard and soft water in cooking meat and vegetables. Peas and beans cooked in hard water, containing lime or gypsum, will not boil tender, because these substances harden vegetable caseinc. Alany vegetables, as onions, boil nearly flavor tasteless boiled in soft water, The because all the is out. addition of salt often checks this, as in the case of onions, causing the vegeta bles to retain the peculiar flavoring prin ciples, besides such nutritious matter as might be lost in soft water. For ex tracting the juice of meat unsalted to make and u broth or soup, soft water, cold at first, is the best, for it much more readily penetrates juices the tissue; should but be for boiling where the salted retained, hard water or soft water is preferable, and the meat should bo put in while the water is boiling, so as to seal up tho pores at once .—Journal oj Chemistry. Household Hints. It is good to be merry at meat. Clean piano keys withasoftragdipped in alcohol, Egg stains ou silver can bo taken off with table salt and a we* rag. Cold sliced potatoes fry and taste bet ter by sprinkling frying. a leaspoonful of flour over them while If you wish to retain (he color in strawberries do not allow them to come in contact with pewter or tin. To polish nickel and plated goods after be coming black not worn, use rouge or whiting on a rag with a little oil. It’s not a good plan to take off the* cover of the stove to toast or boil any thing when there is a dish in the oven. .Mildew can be removed by soaking juice arid in buttermilk, or putting lemon salt upon it iiml exposing it to tho hot sun. To darken light mahogany and cherry, bichromate of potash dissolved in water is excellent, and gives it the appearance of age. To keep eggs cool is a them great help the in making frosting. Set in re frigerator after separating while and yolks; they will beat up stiff in half the lime they would without. Before putting newly-made clothes into tbe wash, look at the hems and tucks for oil stains; rub all spots or dark stitching with soap and cold water; it will all "TV? ^SiltSt ■! pU ‘ V° Ptr ^ ' m nt y *>*“ inea ind - To prevent irons from rusting, warm your iron till you cannot bear your hand o» it without burning yourself, i hen rub it with new clean wax. 1 ut it again to’he lire tid it has soaked in the wax. ^ " ;a d °?*:’ rub jt ov ’ , ’ r wlt l a l” ece of ? erge 1 j’rovents the iron from rust mg afterward f , r ^ 10 ver V best nourishment for invalids ‘ pressed ami childr en is the juice from a steak or mutton chop thoroughly trim med and boiled about live minutes. The meat for this purpose should be cut at ' cust three-quarters of an inch thick, Thu juice may he extracted from the meat by a lemon squeezer ora meat press which comes for this purpose, To brush dusty plush use a soft bristle brush, which may be obtained at any of the large dry goods stores. To preserve it plush during the summer, wrap up with some small which pieces of camphor in pieces of muslin, will prevent it lrorn coming in contact with the plush and thus staining it. There are also preparations sold for use in packing away furs and plush which have a very un pleasant odor, but prevent the moth from destroying the goods. The following is a good paste to use in hanging'wall paper: cold Four enough pounds of gifted flour, arid water to make a stiff batter free from hr l ... T hin ft with cold water to the r msis tenev of pancake finely powdered batter, and alum. add Pour two ounces of gradually boiling water constantly. When over tbe begins batter, stirring it to swell and lose the white color of the flour Le,it beforc usl,,f? ’ NO. 2!). AN OPEN SECRET. What is It that gives to the plainest face The charm of the sweetest beauty? 'A Not the thought of, the duty of happiness, But the happiness of duty. This is Life’s lesson, children dear, They are blest who learn it early For it brightens the darkest day with cheer,' Though Fortune’s face be surly. There’s a certain narrow, quiet path Of daily thinking and living, Of little deeds of sacrifice, Of loving and forgiving. Of patience and obedience, Of gentle speech and action, Of choosing the right and leaving the wrong With a sunny satisfaction; And if we never leave this path For the thing the world calls pleasure, There will come to meet us a heavenly joy Beyond all power to measure. For on this narrow, quiet way, God’s angels move for over, Waiting to crown with peace divine Our every high endeavor. Yes, this is what sheds on the lowliest life The glow of the sweetest beauty, Not the thought of the duty of happiness, But the happiness of duty! —Celia Thaxter, in Youth's Companion. PITH AND POINT. Spring novelties—Fine days. A host in himself—The landlord. Perspiration never rains—It simply pores. Much adieu about nothing—A woman’s farewell. There are no rounds of drinks in the ladder of success. A pen may be driven, but a pencil does the best when it is lead. Teacher—“What is lava?” Junior Girl—“What men put on their faces when shaving.” Time flies and stays for no man. Tho only fellow who can beat it is the musi cian .—Merchant Traveler. Agent (at the door)—“Is the lady of the house in?” Gentleman (calling to his wife): 1 ‘Ma-y, is the cook in?” Mamma—“And who dwelt in the gar den of Eden, Freddie?” Freddie—“Oh, I know; the Adamses !”—Harvard Lam poon. Judge—“Madame, what is ago?” your She—“Your Honor, I leave that to the merry of the court ."—Buffalo Com mercial. Let a woman busy herself with hammer and nails, and it is usually difficult to determine what she is driving at.— De troit Free Press. “May I help you to alight?” said a young man to a lady about to leave tho railway car. “No, thanks,” said she, “I don’t smoke." And always bites her pretty lips To show it. — Mercury. At the restaurant: Haughty Stranger — “Your thumb is in my soup, waiter.” Waiter—“Well, it don’t take up much room, If you kick, though I’ll fill tho bowl up.” A spark arrester is a recent locomotive device; but nothing seems to till the bill of u spark arrester so well as a good, healthy dog with a knack of holding on. — BostonBudyet. . Young Physician (pompously)—“Yes, three times I’ve called at Mr. Brown’s a day for a week. He is a very sick man, Miss Smith.” Miss Smith—“Ho must bo by this time.”— Epoch. An old man who never did anything worse in his youth will than tiirow himself a snow- by ball at a dead cat, amuse tho hour telling you what a bad boy he was .—Philadelphia Call. Bjones—“That fellow Gagley tried to borrow $500 of hundred? me this morning.” Smythe—“Five He nmst be cracked 1” Bjones—“No; he’s not cracked. He’s broke.”— Life. Lieut. Boxer (showing his cousin around the cantonment)—“Would you like to look at the magazine?” “It’s just over there.” -Miss Stuyvesant—“Thank them all.” you, no. Papa subscribes for The llev. E. I). Huntley, of Washing ton, lias delivered a lecture on “The Girl to Love and How to Treat Her.” The how to treat her .—Richmond depends upon Dispatch. the season of the year It is all well enough to say that thir teen is an unlucky number, but America Btarted in business with thirteen States, and seemed to be holding her own up to the time of going to press.— London. Tid Bits. Husband—“What is that you are read ing, ray dear?” Wife—“A letter from mother.” Husband—“Anything im portant?” Wife—“I don’t know, I haven’t got to the postscript yet.”— J/arper's Bazar. Chauncey M. Depew the other morn ing found his coachman’s children play ing about, and he introduced himself. “Well, my little man, and do you’re you know who I am?" Boy “Yes; tho man as rides in father’s carriage.”— Mercury. Sharp Husband—“Been say?" Sharper Wife—“river shopping all day, you breakfast.” Husband—“Why, I since hadn’t but fifty cents to give you this morning.” Wife—“That was plenty. I never pay more than that for lunch.— f tmaha World. Tramp (to nything, partner)-“Did theoldmau give up ; Bill?” Partner— “Haw I" Tramp-“What did you say to him?” Partner-*! asked himil ho couldn’t help a poor d man who was out o’ work, and he sa he could give me W y 7 P '