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THE LINCOLNTON NEWS VOLUME IV. A Little Giant. ntnow a llttle^jlant^Qo bigger than a^taek^ him on his back; His knotted little muscles, almost too email to Could spy. hardly to turn you topsy-turvy and seem To tweak try. tbe nose, and plnob the toes, and fill one full of woe. Are jokes the midget loves to play alike on friend and foe. But he oan do still greater things than make a He big man squeal— can bar split a stone In splinters, or break a of steel: He can shape the dripping eaves' drops Into a crystal spear. And clutch the falling rain so hard, 't wlU turn all white with fear , He can chain the dashing river, and plug tho He running build spout; can a wall upon the lake and shut the water out. But if you want to see this little giant cut and Just run, build a tiny Are, or step out and fetch the sun. —Harold W. Raymond, in “Jack-ln-the-Puk pit,” St. Nicholas for April. A MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. It. was Christmas Eve. I sat down on the bank of the river, and listened to the sullen gurgle of the ■water as it crept stealthily up around the slimy green piles whioh supported the It pier.' called to me with the voice of a friend, and heaven knows that the voices of friends were not numerous enough what dreary in mv ears at that time. Oh, a Christ mas-time it was! It was only the old story, I was a journalist—a literary hack- —with some talent: but my style, they told me. was out of fashion; and “just then there was no call for that particular kind of arti¬ cle,” and the courteous editors showed me to tlie door, aud blandly remarked on the weather, as if a poor creature who was starving cared what the weath¬ er was. 1 had tried for work at anything which offered. I had gone out into tlie country, aud sought for employ¬ ment hire on a farm, with white hut nobody hands wanted like mine. to a man 1 had offered to work for board and lodging, told but the shrewd old fanners me that a man who would work so cheap as that was not worth his salt; so 1 returned to the great city, spent my last sixpence for a meal at a cheap restaurant, and went down to the river, resolved to put an end to it before Christmas morning broke. Yes, there was a woman in the case. There generally is when a man comes to I an had extremity loved her such as I was in. from boyhood up. She was fair aud sweet, and I thought the little house we had so often talked about would be an earthly paradise, but when luck went against me, and every¬ hill, body seemed anxious to help me down¬ she joined the majority, aud told me, vfith cruel coolness, that her papa did not. think it best that she should marry Two a weeks man so afterwards naturally shiftless. she was tho bride of old Goldbeater, who had ouo wife living and one dead, and live grown-up children, besides money enough to dress her in cloth of gold, if he had chosen. I was a fool, no doubt; any man is a fool to wreck his life for a woman like that; but I was young, ana Agnes had forme hitherto so much of my life. Never mind: let her pass. 1 had written no letters to leave be¬ hind me. Nobody in the world would care, when they found my dead body, some day, what led to the' act; it would make nice newspaper paragraph, and that w.is all. I looked up at the sky set with stars, a faint waning moon just coining up in the east No man looks his last on any¬ sadness. thing he has loved without a feeling of The stars were no more a part of my world; henceforth I should be above them, or—God knew. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer When I opened them again I was not alone. Two figures stood beside me—tall men, well muffled up, and with an air of authority about them. One of them laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. and “Young with man,” said You he, “give desperate it uj come me. are enough man!” for anything. You are ouf ■ “For what?” I asked, struggling tq free myself from his grasp, but in vain. “For marriage,” he answered in an impressive I tone. “Marriage!” laughed aloud. I cried. th* “Where is woman insane enough to marry a pool wretch like me, who has not courage enough flee from to live—who troubles is that cowardly has enough to he no) pluck enough to grapple with?” “You are to know nothing,” said th« man, “Come tightening his grasp on my should er. with me; ask no questions do as you are hidden, and for yoii| night’s work you shall have the sum ct one thousand pounds paid down to yor in cash.” Without a word more spoken between us, I turned and followed him, thf other man, who had not joined in thf conversation, the foot of'the bringing up in the rear. At street a close carriagi was in waiting. I was asked to ste into it. I did so. One of the men too hjs seat by my side, while the other mounted the box beside the coachman. We started off at a rapid pace. An hour’s hard driving took us beyond the confines of the city; the pavements were succeeded by soft country roads. By-and-by—it had seemed an age to me—the carriage turned out of the road, and began the ascent of a steep incline. We drove through a ponderous 1 ate way, lighted closely by a lamp, each up side a long with aveuue, set on trees, and stopped before a large house whose windows were dark as a tomb. Somewhere in the distance I heard a bell ring, aud directly the great door of the house was opened, and a voice bade us enter My companion drew his arm carpeted through mine, and led me up a thickly stairway, along a corridor extremity lighted by of one dim lamp, and at the the passage he rapped lightly on a closed door. It was opened silently from within, and we passed shadowy through. furnished I saw a long room, in pale blue, and sitting ladies, together, botjj veiled. on a Jpw coucjg wer« two These two women rose at our en trance, aud my companion spoke a few words to them in a language 1 did not understand. Then he turned to me. “This lady,” said he, touching the slighter of tlie women on the arm, “is to be your wife. Her name, her family, you are never to know! But you are to hold yourself in readiness to appear ati any time before a justice, and swear that on the night of December 24th, 18—, you were, to the bfut of your be¬ lief, legally married to the lady whom we shall for convenience call Mary Marston. And in return you are to re¬ ceive the sum of one thousand pounds; and you are never, on any account, to mention what lias transpired to-night until you are called to do so by some¬ one, who shall bring you the other half of this ring;” and he placed in my hand the broken half of a chased gold ring. 1 bowed. Indeed, if I had felt any misgivings this proceeding, touching the strangeness of I was too much under the draw spell back. of my mysterious surroundings to “Let the ceremony proceed,” said the man who acted as spokesman; and out from the drapery which covered the windows issued u clergyman with his face hidden in a cowl, and arrayed in the full robes of his order. The woman to whom I was to be mar ried advanced as tep at his bidding,and laid her hand in mine. Heavens? whati a thrill ran through me at the touch! I closely clasped the soft , warm white hand, and forgot that I had ever knows a false base woman by the name of Ag¬ nes. Her hand trembled a little, but the touch on mine was firm. I felt that she was The doing what she proceeded. did willingly. At the ceremony solemn words, "I. Arthur, take thee, Mary,” I started. How did these know people know my name? How did they that I was called Arthur Daven¬ port? It was over. I had signed the registoi presented to me, I had kissed the hand of the woman who was my wife, and my two companions, who had brought me thither, were alone with me. “Your part of the business is accom¬ plished,” said the man who acted as spokesman. “We will do our part.” He handed me a package, and bade me examine it. 1 aid so, and found ten hundred-pound “We will notes. take you home now',” he said; and in the same quiet and mys¬ ‘ terious manner I was conducted out of the house, into a carriage, and driven away. They left me just where they had found me, on the river-bank, and without an¬ swering a single question I put to them, they vanished away in the darkness. The first faint streak of the breaking day shot up in the eastern sky as I stood there lost in wonder. The whole thing should was have like been a nightmare. inclined to look Indeed, I it only dream, had it been upon as a not for the package of notes in my breast-pock¬ et. That, at least, was a reality, aud a very I agreeable one. went back to my lodgings with a new sense of importance. Life was worth living. After all, there is noth¬ ing his makes a man more satisfied with lot than plenty of ready money. I resolved to begin anew. I kept my resolution. When editors found that I could live without them, they were ready My to buy style my productions style. at my own price. became the I had all the work I could do. 1 wrote a success ful book, and speedily the time came when 1 was welcomed in the very high¬ est circles, and smiled on by managing mothers who would before have if I set had the admired dogs on me a yeav their Angelinas and Seraphiuas. But I no longer cared for tbe smiles of women. Ridiculous as it may seem, I was in love with my unknown wife. The word “Mary” held for me all that this world could offer of the sweetness of love. In vain I sought to trace her—in vain I spent all my leisure time in wander¬ ing around the country, trying to iden¬ tify some old mansion as the one which had been the scene of my midnight ‘bridal. At length, one day I took passage on an excursion boat bound for one of the imanv had hall-a-dozen places of interest friends on with the river. I me, bound for How just a day’s outiug. nobody it happened tell nobody how could dreadful tell— ever can these Wccidents do happen—but four or five miles out, our boat Collided with an¬ other boat, and the usual scene of terror and confusion followed. The boats were unfit for use, and if they had been in order, nobody would have been cool enough to launch them, and after a few moments of wildest dis¬ may, it was evident that our boat must go down. And while men were rushing hither and thither for the women of their par¬ ty, and women and children were screaming settled the in water’s mortal edge, terror, the boat to and I, being an expert swimmer, decided to take to the water and make for the shore. As I threw off my coat and boots my eye fell evidently on a solitary all alone. girl I standing spoke close her. by, to “Madame, have you any friends on board?” “No, I am alone,” she said, in the sweetest voice I had over heard. “My friends went yesterday. I was to join them I thought there to-day.” looked she at me strangely, that she blushed and trembled as she ■poke, analysis. but it was no time for critical “Will you trust yourself to me? I am a good swimmer; 'if we both keep cool, I can easily swim with you to yonder shore.” She replied by putting her hand in mine. A and sense familiar of something sweetly strange her touch. yet 1 came around over her me at put my arm and leaped into the water. 1 'me She in frantic never hindered despair, mo, or clung to as most women would have done. Site did as 1 told her, and after a tough battle with the angry water, we readied the shove. And as I drew my companion up on ths bank.jjl found that she had fainted dead away. Lik such I e any other man in a case, was practically helpless. She looked like death—and, qh, kqw be^uUftil *h« UKVOTKD TO THE INTEBI- 8T OE LINCOLN COUNTY. LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 1886. was! A wealth of sunny hair rippling all around her brow and falling in wild confusion over her bosom. I lifted her up and loosened the wet lace scarf around her throat, and as I did so a slender gold chain fell off in my hands. I stood and gazed at it like one stupe¬ fied, for attached to it by a golden rivet was the other half of the ring which had been given me on my wedding-night As I stood there staring like one gone daft, the girl opened her eyes. She un¬ derstood at a glance, and with a cry of dismay For struggled to her feet a moment we stood looking at each other, and then her head drooped, her face grew crimson from brow to bosom. What spirit of boldness possessed me I do not know, but I took her in my arms and whispered in her ear the ques¬ tion; “Is it my wife?” And she answered me; “Yes, it is your wife!” Later on, when we had been made comfortable at an adjacent hotel, she told me her story. Left an orphan, with a very large in¬ heritance, the terms of her father’s will had made her the ward of an avaricious uncle, who had contrived in every way to make her life uncomfortable. If she died unmarried, all her property was to go to this uncle, but if she married, she was to have the right to dispose of it as she saw fit Just before the time when our bridal took place she had fallen rapidly worse, for her healtli had long been failing, and her physicians saitf she must die. She resolved that her uncle should not profit by her death, and the onlv way to foil him was to contract a marriage. She had been kept secluded, poor child, and she had formed no attach¬ ment—indeed, the whole end and aim of her uncle’s life had been to keep her from having a lover, and during his temporary plan absence from home, the wild of marrying any man who would lend himself to the 'scheme had been presented Weakened to her by her waiting-woman. sented, and by illness she nad con the family physician, and the lawyer who had drawn up her father’s will, had selected me as the groom. The doctor had known some¬ thing of me, and was pleased to regard me as heartily unobjectionable, proud and I am sure I was of his good opinion. And strangely enough, after her mar riage, my wife rallied, her health came back, and her villainous old uncle emi grated as soon as he learned that he was poisonous suspected drugs of to having his administered with view, niece a to the advantages which would accrue to him in the event of her death. “And would you never have made yourself known'to me?” I asked, when she had made her brief explanation. “I should never have dared to!” she said timidly. “It was such a dreadful uumaidenly “It thing to do!” was the loveliest, and nicest, and best thing in the world to do!” I told her, kissing her blushing face, and I still think so, though twenty years have elapsed since Mary Marston Kingsley became my wife. Drawing the Line. It was a Nebraska jail, tavern, sa¬ loon, and real-estate agency combined. The sheriff came out to welcome the traveler, and ho seemed to beavery nice iort of a man. “Things know,” isn’t just as I’d want ’em, you he apologetically ob¬ served, “but this is a new country, and we can’t have everything at once. Make yourself right to home while the old woman cooks dinner.” While waiting for the promised meal one of the five or six men lounging around asked the the place traveler entered the room and for a chew of tobacco. “Jim, you musn’t do it—you really musn’t,” said the landlord. “1 want to do what’s right and fair, but I must draw the line somewhere. You jail¬ birds must not try to put yourselves on an equality with the guests of my hotel.” “A jail-bird, do you sayP” quivered the traveler, as Jim withdrew. “Yes. He’s in for two months. All that “But crowd where out there the jail?” are in jail.” is “Right there. Taiu’t no silver-plated, palace, I’ll admit, afford.” but it’s the best the couuty can “Where do you lock ’em upP” “Nowhere. There isn’t a lock on any door.” “But what prevents ’em from run ning “Nothing off?” in pertickler. Reckon they’ll all clear out as soon as the gruh gits whisky." poor and 1 begin to water the “And you won’t try to stop ’emP” “O no. I’m willing to be sheriff and jailer, along, and 1 want to see the couuty git but they musn’t put too many burdens on me."— A’ew York Sun. No Good on t he Game. A member of a Lawrence county, Da¬ kota, school board was speaking of the teacher “That employed. felier ain't givin’ satisfac¬ no tion at all,” he said. “Wliy, 1 thought he came out from the east highly recommended.” “Oil, I sqiose he was, but he don’t seem to suit, jist the same.” “But he has a lie’s good education.” "Yes, 1 guess got a straight flush on ed’acation all right ’null', but tho trouble’s right here: poker Natcrly, you know, the and, big boys co'rse, have have a tlie teacher game, at noon, iu.” uv set “Yes.” “Well, l‘m cussed of they ain’t jist 'bout cleaned him out uv his wages! Now, what kind uv a ’zantple down do you call that, lettin’ boys him that way? 1 don’t want my children go’n’ to no sieh school. Seems ’sif we can’t hardly git a good teacher no more— blamed ef 1 don’t b’lieve I’ll go over an’ take holt uv the school niysolf .”—-Ester line ( Dakota) Bill. A ashington gCssip says the favor¬ ite di-ess of tlie Senator to-ilay frock is black broadcloth, double-breasted coat, high and standing Still, collar, business open at the neck, boots. suits are fust creeping in, and fully one-third of the .Senators wear cubaway coaUk - i HE HA P IT DOW N FINE. -Never saw a natural gas well?” in quired a talkative passenger as the train sped along m the darkness and through * country;‘^you never saw & gas well. 11 ^ You ought to see one, especially one on fire. Beat# all the fireworks ever these got up. wells, Something All funny about gas too. of a sudden they three 11 start up in a flame, flare two or times awav up to the sky, and then stop as quick as they started. That is the effect of spontaneous combustion. Guess 1 know more about the natural gas well business than any other man in the country. 1 ve studied ’em, sir, for many months, and have ’em down fine. Let me see. it s now 9:38 o'clock, At 9:40 a spouter is due over in the. val ley there, and if you 11 keep your eve peeled in that direction mebbe you U see it on tire. ’ At once all the passengers seated themselves on the side of the car next to the valley and looked intently for the promised display. 1 he gas well expert sat across the aisle, took out his pipe and tilled it, as he remarked: “I study these gas wells as astrono mers tell study the heaven!)' bodies, and I can to a minute when they’re going to burst, Look out now—she s a-com i n £- ’ And sure enough, way down in the valley, seemingly two or three miles away, there was a burst of flame, quick ly then followed all was by darkness two or three again. more, and -Wonderful, wonderful!” exclaimed one of the astonished passengers; “the grandest sight I ever saw,’ echoed an other^ chimed “marvelous, in third. simply marvelous,” a “Oh. that s nothing,” said the expert, “wait till you see one of these wells that take tire and flare out in two or three directions, as if the flames wanted to lick a clean spotoff the faceof theearth. They Lemme re worth looking at, l tell you. see, where’s my note book? Oh, here it is. Only 10 o clock—say, friends, if you'll wait eleven minutes you'll see a horizontal flarer a little further up the road. She’s due at 10:16 o'clock. 1 figur ed her all out to-day.” Of course the passengers were willing to wait, and they began to look down into the dark valley, anxious to see the great flarer. Soon a word of warning from across the aisle caused every eyeta open wide with expectation, and ex pressions dozen of amazement came from a shoot lips as two dozen eyes beheld a of flame which sprang up out of darkness, and darted this way and that three •d with or four blink. times, aud then disappear a “Didn’t I tell you I had it down tine?” exclaimed the man with the pipe. “They can't any of ’em get away with me on the gas well business. I’ve studied ’em through I and through. But, say, friends, get ott'at the next station. I’m a poor man, and niy family at home is hungry. Can’t The you hat do something passed for me?” was around and filled full of quarters, half-dollars, cigars, and whisky the bottles, dumped more or less empty, and whole into the lap of the grateful “Thanks, expert. gentlemen, thanks,” said he; “just tell your folks at home that you’ve in the seen oil the great horizontal flarer Cooper, up regions, and that Bill 1 the great astronomer and geolo¬ gist of the Good gas weil night.” country, showed it' to you. After his departure the passengers be¬ gan telling of and the great mystery they nad seen, to wonder how Bill Cooper could so correctly calculate the appearance of the flames of fire. “I’ll show you how it's dona,” said a drummer who had been seated in tho rear part of the car, and who had not as yet taken any interest in the proceed¬ ings. “I’ll show you how the trick is done. Has anybody got a match?” A match was produced. The drum¬ mer seated himself on the opposite side of the car, took out a pocket-mirror, held-it the up against look the window, and told passengers to out into the val¬ ley if they wanted to see another flarer. The match was struck and held before the mirror, and lo and behold, there the was beholders. another flaming gas well in view of “To make a horizontal flarer,” said the drummer, striking another match, “all I have to do is to blow gently on the flame of the match aud tnere you have it. I travel over this road every week and have seen Bill Cooper before. No. there’s no use asking the conductor to back the train up to the last station. He won’t do it, and if he did you wouldn’t catch Bill. He’s down in the valley suckers.”— by this Wellman, time fishing in Chicago for more Her aid. Horse and Cow Stories. following. A gentleman (a) Mich m St. aels recently swunjr which a hammock in his back-yard, duty in from Ins he solaced regular himself when oft employ ment. His neighbors said he was so fond of his hammock that he could spend his Sundays lu had it, instead of at tending church, as been his wont before he got the hammock. But bun day morning recently a surprise await ed him. He allowed h» horse to graze in the back yard, breakfast and, the day iu ques tion, when after l.e prepared himself for a loll in the hammock, he found his horse had gotten into it, and ; was quietly hammock resting down therein. He had to • cut the to get the horse j out. ted A gentleman the Ledger from office the recently country that, re- ; 1 Kil in us he came to town, he saw along the road a cow up a cherry-tree, grazing on the fruit and foliage. .Several cows were ranging in a very barren pasture. The cherry-tree was by the side of a high ditch bank. Oiie of the cows had climbed from the ditch bant into the cherry-tree, and when the narrator saw her she was half hidden among the branches.” A step toward abolishing the high hat nuisance at the theatn has just been taken by the management of a Vienna play house, which srders that all female palrouizers must either wear low head-gear or forego the pleasure of attendance at the perfornaiije*, A HA PPY H OME. If, then, knowledge be the beginning of power should not woman lay hold of every means ol increasing her strength by adding to her knowledge? Many practical lessons may be learned from those who nave succeeded, and there are snnie even in this day. But knowl* edge alone ran not constitute entire capability. As in all professions and vocations of men, it must be seconded w the housewife by such other qualifi cations of mind and character as will render her service desirable and pleas ant. In a home composed necessarily of different characters, the ruling spirit. the piesiding genius, is the mistress: te ner touch alone will vibrate the sweet chords of sympathy and common in terest. there may be the elements of harmony hand in a household, but a skilled alone, can blend them in unison. Just as a musical instrument, in perfect tune, gives forth no sound in concord ini touched by a master hand: if the in strument is ill-tuned the same skill may leave untouched the discordant notes, drawing iu out the sweet sounds alone, every relation of life there must be a desire to assimilate the good without good antagonizing in all, the evil. There is some which the magic hand of charity with judgment, can grasp and assimilate. And so when knowledge is charity acquired let it be tempered with that and forbearance, which a mis tress would desire, if she could exchange places with her domestics. Let them Qot abuse the power they may have, be caue others, less fortunate are forced to labor for support. Tyrants are made ' n the use, but in the abuse of power. Let the burden of servitude be as and for bearance as possible, witholdinjr leDiency institution of home only demands when justice to the Rigorous sometimes discipline, measures are neces sa C to maintain the dignity of all gov ernments: a want of it properly exer cised, will inspire an opposing party with a suspicion of weakness or timidity the administration; greater aggres sions will ensue until one or the other Let must the yield. Now which shall it be? stronger party decide. In house boiJ government, also, there must be a limlt 10 forbearance, which the mistress roust determine with judgment, discre *i° n an< f firmness. The acquirement, then, of these latter qualifications, comes .properly them within charity womans duty. With | ou edge t be of no avail. would Unjust err, and judgment, knowl showing would induce a bias in one s own favor distrust, showing a spirit of suspicion and unmerited favor to the servant, would embolden to further demands. An impartial judgment, in matters of difference, inspires conti dence and induces a ready acquiescence ! n a11 decisions. A feeliug of security * 9 a * so obtained, which fosters the growth d attachment and development of home love HQ which are distinctive with every human being, of high or low degree. security This valuable home attachment and are aids in securing eifieient and kindly service; but they are alone. not developed Who by means of money purchase can buy house a home? furnished, Monev may a well luxurious, but its walls do not eucoui pass a home without sympathy, justice, and community of interest among its inmates. Food, clothing and comforts do not provide a home for the humble servant, any more than for the high born mistress. It is true a servant must be paid they wages, be and justice demands that given ungrudgingly as well labor. as promptly; for then they give"value in Let homes be founded upon the broad principles each inmate of justice and charity and will lend a helping hand and perform a needful part. An archi¬ tect does not refuse the services of the humblest laborer, in executing a grand design; the skill he unites the strength of one with of another, blending their powers and using their wills until he completes a structure, beautiful and har¬ monious. Thus the co-operation of all should be sought, aud their services blended in sympathy and love, for the election of that masterpiece of human architecture, “A Happy Home.”— Mr*. E. J. Gurley, in Good Housekeeping. Female Affectation*. The affectations of women are quita worth as pronounced noting that as those of men. It is each sect deals more harshly with the shortcomings of its fellows than with the sins of people of an opposite which gender. New Of all the affecta¬ tion from York women have suffered none has been so pronounced girl as Anglomania. to-day had rather The average New York be considered En¬ glish than beautiful. Some of them are very apt and clever at mimicking the shouldered. daughters of direct, Great Britain. A square¬ and dashing girl "Of course you imagine that men are more intellectual than women and need higher ° mental food. It is not true, M u wanU his „ ir | a U mode, as he does his trousers or his hat The proper girl Diat is English is now. pushed I think bit sometimes and exercise a too far, quite a lot of girls are certainly growing yellow, * bitt then they’re in the swim, ; u know, and a cold dip, a raw egg, nd a hard canter through the park are fascinations hard to resist when one has (a j len into their po Wer .'> athletic girl certainly carries everything have before had ner. Dress-reform deal ad vocates a great to do w j t h making her what she is. In some inspects she meets their ideal, wearing gq U are. sturdy, and low-heeled boots, looise corsets, and short hair. Tho doo tors are reading her elaborate lecture* aIU { her mother throws up her hands in dismay. --— A young Creole named Ullin has j l, sf returned to Now Orleans after a series of remarkable adventures, ex tending over a period of twenty years, broken iu health, but not in spirits. During his absence he was a lieutenant in me navy, inventor of a machine for which ho got $60,u0Q in i’aris, a gam¬ bler who spent that money in a year, a solicitor in the French army in Mex¬ ico, a builder of dredges for the Suez Canal, and now an agent for De Les seps in Panama Few men have •X* period, equal vicissitude*, FOOD IV ITS RELATION TO H EALTH . The first meal of the dav, or break fast, is in this country—with those in health, at all events—a fairly substan tial one. although some people trv—but, thank goodness, trv in vain--to assim ilate French and English customs in re gard to breakfast. France and its folks are different from England, with its solid men and women; its climate is different from ours; its notions as re gards ingrafted eating and English drinkin<z can never be on ° bone and muscle. Yes, breakfast ought to be a hearty one. eaten early in the morning, and eaten sibility slowly, so as to preclude the pos would" materially of eating too heavily, which interfere with the busi ness A of the day.' man or woman who is no break fast-eater must either be a heavv—over of heavy—supper-eater health. or be in a bad state A person who requires the stimulus of a cup of tea, or anv other stimulus or stimulant whatever, before partaking day of of solid food is not in the hev health. I like to see a man have his breakfast first, and then feel around for his cup of coffee, tea, or chocolate, I have knowu the strongest and health iest of men positively forget all about the liquid part of their breakfast, and leave the table without it. I have knowu men who scarcely ever touched a drop of liquid another^ of anv kind from one week's end to and who, never theless. were in ruddy and robust health. " What a person eats for breakfast often gives me a clew to the state of his health. One example: if. while sojourn ing at a hotel. I see a man come down te breakfast between lu and 11 , and sit down to deviled kidneys with plenty of sauce—piquant—and perhaps one pov.r puny egg to follow, 1 would be willino to aver that he carries a white tongue and that his liver sadly needs seeing to. Ham and bacon anti eggs, or a beefsteak or underdone chop, with boiled eggs to follow, and then a cup of nice tea. is a sensible breakfast for a man who is going awav out into the fresh air to walk, or ride, or work till noon, but not for a person who has to sit all day in the same position at manual labor, 1 emphasize the word manual, because intellectual or mental work conduces to appetite. An author hard at his desk, if his ideas be flowing freely, if he be at his work and time flying swift ]y with him, -oon gets hungry, which only body proves that we must support the well when there is a strain upou the mind, so that no extra expenditure of tissue may lead to debility, Cheerful conversation insures the easy digestion pity of a good breakfast. It is a that in this country the custom of mvitiug friends to the matutinal meal is not more tliiug prevalent. It may seem a strange to say, but I would ten times sooner go out to breakfast than to dinner. One is, or ought to be. freshest in the morning: he then needs no arti ficial stimulus to make him feel bright, wittv. happv, as he too often does after the duties of tbe day are over, Tlie midday meal or luncheon ro those who dine in the evening, aue have work to do in the afternoon, should he do a light one. I am not quite suiv that I not approve of the city “snack.” It nuts one past, it sustains nature, it leaves the mind free to think and to do its duty, and, above all, it enables the stomach to have a rest before the prin¬ cipal meal of tlie day. Now. about this meal: I have to say that, if partaken of alone by one’s seif, it onght to be an abstemious one. Even in company it need not be a heavy one. No matter how many courses there are, there is not the slightest necessity of making But too free with them. it is a fact which everyone must have felt, that even a moderately heavy meal is quickly aud easily digested if accompanied intellectual with and followed by witty or and suggestive con versation. “I’m a dyspeptic; I must not dine out,” have heard a gentleman more than once remark. Weil, my impression is that it does dys;ie|itic» a great deal of good to dine out, if they can eat in moderation and judiciously, in the aid of never artificial being stimulus tempted to enable to call them to do as men of more robust phy¬ sique Doctor, are doing around them .—Family in Cassell's Family Magazine. A Good Fisb Story. The member for West Algorna tells a from good forty story about a species pounds of sturgeon, which to sixty in weight, and is peculiar to Rainy river lake. On a visit wlii-h he paid last summer to a settlement on tne river he had occasion' to visit a young bachelor, who, with true backwoods hospitality, insisted that he should stay for dinner. Mr. Conmee then seated" himself and watched the preparations of his enter¬ tainer. First he set down his home¬ made bread on the table, with tin mugs for the tea, and then he put a big pot full of water over the tire. When the water came to the boiling point he in¬ fused the tea and set it aside. Then he seized a gafl' about six feet long, stepped outside down to the river's edge, which was not over ten paces distant, and re¬ turned in three minutes with a sturgeon kicking on the end of his gall', part of which was soon cut off and transferred to the pot of boiling water to be cooked for dinner. This is the usual thiug up there. They ulways have the water boiling before they go to catch the fish, and Uiey use only a common gaff.— Toronto (Out.) World. An ota resfaent In an" English settle¬ ment near the New Y’ork State line car¬ ries in his pocket constantly an immense tooth he from a human jaw". The tooth, says, was taken from tho mouth of a man after he was dead, who was hangeu in Hertfordshire more than 100 yea* ago, aud was. carried by the preset., owner's father, grandfather, and great grandfather. of toothache, It the is carried tooth from as a the prevent d«wd ive person’s mouth being a certain eha.m against the tooth that malady. he The had the owner tooth¬ of ache in his' says life. never double A hazelnut carried in the pocket or about the per¬ son is also a preventive of this painful NUMBER 32 ah Indignant Ewnah-... I B M Clever Tom Whiffen tells me this aa ecdote: Before the days of rapid tran sit on the Atlantic, English actors wens few and far betweeii in this country, In those days an Englishman in Ameri ca was of more them or less of a curiosity—as In many are even now. a com pany which was doing Shakspeare at one of the Boston theaters was an En glish actor named Coleman. He wu an actor of the old school, and quite aa tragic off the stage as on. His fellow plavers chaffed him in the dressinow rooms on account of his beino- an En¬ glisbman, and particularly on a difife cnlty This he had in the use of the aspirate, had been done so much that the Englishman was roused to furiousness it any one dared to imitate his cockney misuse of the eighth letter of our alpha bet. One morning he came down to breakfast at the Trempnt house in a not had very pleasant frame of mind. Ha been chaffed pretty hard the even ing slept before, well. and in addition had no* The waiter—a darky of the darkest lu* 3 —laid the bill of fare befora him and awaited his order, “ ’Ave vou hanv fresh heecrg this morning?’* “Yes, asked Coleman, sah,” auswered the davkv; “ ’ow’ll you ’ave ’em cooked, sah? Boiled, scrambled, fried, komelet: hany way you like, sah.” Coleman turned qnieklv. gave tha waiter a sharp look, frowned, and then as indicated though his his preference ears had in deceived the him, way of “heg«s.” ■ "Hauy thing else, sah?” .asked tha waiter. “Cawn beef ’ash is verv nice, sail, dis mawnin’. Bit of fish, sah? ’Alibut steak, sah, finnan "addies, fresh cod ” Coleman’s face had turned purple. He jumped to his feet, caught the waiter bv the collar, and held him at arm’s length. “What do you mean, sirrah?” he roared, “by himitating a gentleman’s sucech. 1 ave a mind to throttK. you, you “Hi himpertinent scoundrel!” ly can’t begs ’elp yer pardon, sah. but hi real it sah. Hi’ui an Emriish man mvself, sah.” “You lie. you villian,” bellowed Cole man. “You've been paid for this!" By this time some of the other guests had intervened, and the darkv, pale with fear, was released from the actor’s clutches. The head waiter vouched for the fact that the darky was an English man, born at Putney, and Coleman, re¬ stored to his equilibrium, settled down to his breakfast again, but with a change of waiters .—Buffalo Express. How Phtlp Charged It Up. When I think of the many funny things Kenward Piiilp did, I find it diffi¬ cult to realize that he was born in En¬ gland. I am certain that if you hadi scratched him deep enough you would have found a strain of Celtic blood, for no thorough what did Englishman could do and. say lie and said. One of tho most famous stories told concerning him bears relation to a haugiug; no one but he could get a laugh out of such a ghastly subject. lie was once sent to from report New a hanging York. in a town far distant) He was absent sever¬ al days, and, as is often the case, found himself, when making up his bill of ex¬ penses. unable to remember every detail of the expenditure of the money which, he had legitimately spent. Consequents) ly he charged up a lump sum. which) was by no means excessive. The busi-j ness the manager objected to its payment) on itemized ground that he should be given) an account of every penny. Philp found he could not do this, but ha determined not to lose any of the money which he bad expended on behalf of tha newspaper. So he made out his bill anew, and after charging for his hotel bill, railroad fare, and other regulation expenses, he added a few items in order to make up the sum charged in the first! place. To appreciate the humor of his revis¬ ed account you must understand that at a hanging propitiate in a country town, in order to the sheriff and obtain en¬ trance to the jail and other favors, it is necessary, him with kindnesses as a general rule, liquors. to smother, and It al¬ so frequently talk happens that in order to get a with or a confession from the! murderer, enterprising newspaper men 1 lavishly books bestow cigars, tobacco and upon him. Philp’s addition to his bill were as follows: To one whisky cocktail for the unfortunate To wretch........................... % U. one ditto ditto for the sheriff....... 15 To one ditto for self................... J? To one red necktie for miserable felon % To one ditto ditto for sheriff............ To one ditto ditto for self................... ‘ii To one copy of Dr. Watt’s hymns for the condemned mau.......... s. ............. S' To one ditto ditto for sheriff. To one ditto ditto for self................... — 50 To one whisk-broom for doomed criminal.. 40 To one ditto ditto for sheriff................ 40i To one ditto ditto for self.......... 40 After the sad event: To one whisky cocktail for sheriff -.. 15 ) To one ditto ditto for self......... & None for the lamented deceased.. ed Philp make was never afterward itemized askod ask¬ to out an bill of ex¬ penses. — N. Y. Mail and Express. Talking Business in His Sleep. “The cook-stove at our house,” said Maj. Fenwick, “has been acting up ever since the freeze, and I was ordered to go to mixed George wood de Cottes’ and have and a load of Well, know split the tine sent up. tlie lodge you meeting? That night we attended was the day. 1 forgot all about it, and when I came home to supper the madam asked me, about the chips aud splinters, and I owned up that business drove it out of my head, but as I would sec De Cottes that it night would would be give him the order and sent up in the morning. You know we were detained at tho breakfast lodge to a the late hour. Next morning at madam told me it was wood’ •hardly worth while worrying over the in my sleep, and begged me not I •to said; be troubled ‘why, about it.’ I ‘Inmy sleep?’ what did say in my last sleep?’ ‘More than once in your cried dreams “Here, night,’ give said another she, ‘you dollar’s worth out, me of chips.” ’ Florida Times-Cnion. The Welland Caual is to bo dre to a uniform depth of 14 foot. The work wjU qosl