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MnnHuel. I—III mi i— ■ ■ • '=' ■» HARLEM, (NMMMMA PfVNMvna* Kvm r rut mu a r. **Uard «*• AtHtnonrk. Tlin latest tr iveUar's yarn is of s tree in the northeastern part of New Guinea which is Miid to consist alm< >t wholly of f ! amorphous rarlxiti and to [kioscks the projx rtics of an electric Lattery to such an extent that when its discoverer touched it ho was !>::'•< ked to tin ground, Massachusetts has expended $90,000 in the last twenty years in trying to st/s k her ponds and rivers with fish, in the rivers the effort proves a complete failure, and so far as trade results are cones rm d the report* are discouraging. Ponds, leased and protected by sporting clubs, have Is en *ticec - fully stocked, ruid that is nlxiiit all The fruit production of California Is something wonderful. During I**s she produced in raisins over 9,000,500 pounds, or nearly three times as much as in JMM Hhc also sent to market last year 1,500,000 ponds of prunes, 1,823,- 000 pounds of apples, 1,000.000 pounds of peaches, 1,139,000 pounds of plums, 050,<K>0 pounds apricots, 2,250,000 pounds of homy, 1,250,000 js>un<ls of walnut-, and 1,050,000 |s>unds almond*. 'flic New York f/mpAie thus furthers a I new cause: “If you know anything slcflnitc ami pisitlve about g'.osta, gob i tins, spooks or things uncanny, the ! American society for psychinl n-s<an hos Boston has established a s|>ecinl com mittee on apparitions and haunted houses I tlial will be plca-ed to hear from you | and collate the evidence in the ease. At [ the request of the committee we state that the secretary's address is Morton i Prince, M. !>., Boston, Mass." | The manufacture of a universal Inn- I gunge seems a* fitM'innting ns the inven tion of a flying machine. There are said to Im- sixty societies and numerous pro feasors in different part* of Europe and 1 America hard at work propagating the ■ new univeninl language of Volnpm k. I Dictionaries of V<dapu< k in the Euro pean mid u few Oriental languages i n-t. There are two Volapuck reviews, mid a I course of free lessons in it have been ' begun by n French nssoehition. The hut report of the statistician of i the United Stall s department of agrieul ’ turn states thnt the American draft hor-e j of the future, by the introduction of j famous European breeds, is to be a heavier mid stronger animal than hereto . fore. Sheep husbandry is in deeper de I pression than any other animal industry I of the country, tlie Inst miiiiinl decrease | in number Is ing about 2.000,000. With I all stock except sheep th■■ number has | increased, but the aggregate valuation ■ this year of farm animals is less than that I of lust year by something ovi r f 100,000, 000. ' 111 the new British Rouse ol Commons there are 75 mi-mliers who own more than 3000 acres of land each, with a rental value us mon’ than $15,000 a year. Out of the above numlx-r there lire two who own 100,000 m re-, and three others nion than 50.(HR) acres, mid the possessions of I acventia nos them cxwd 10,000 acres I each. As regards rentals, Sir John | Ranwdtm is at the head with near n mil- * I lion of dollars per annum, followed by ' Kir John St Aubyn with mar $500,000 I Four other rentals exceed $150,000. The j rentals of twenty-eight m< inte rs range ■ from $.50,000 to $150,000. Mr. E. L. Baker, our consul general nt I Buenos Ayres, has recently rejiorted to I the state department the discovery of ■ gold in Patagonia. According to the ! report of the commission appointed by ' tin Argentine Republic to ex imine th - deposits, they are of a«U|a'rior el os, mid I “there is abundance both of gold mid platinum " Mr. Baker says the on- is believed to lie richer than that of Cali funds or Australia. N 4 the least inter eating fact ateiut this di-cox <ry is that the new gold Held* arc easily ace< —ibl, . The deposits an* said to extend from Cape Virgin, on the northern shore of the Straits of Magellan, through which tmmy vess, 1» pass every year, nortliw ltd along the Atlantic coast for forty oi fifty mile*. A gulden ashte'X is a rarity, and <. ont find- himself interested in this bit out o! Neignan's “From Paris to Pekin." Say, tlii» writer: “1 will refer to the cigar-asl receptacle, w here the smokers in the sa km drop the end of their cigarettes, ac cording to the Russian custom, aftcrames cotnfioaed of a pure nugget of gold wvrtl £ 16(H) sterling, ami just in the rough alate iu which it hail tes-n found iu th< mine. The frar has |H-ruutted iu an ex ccptional case. M Kouonictrof to retair |wa«K*sion of thia nugget in his louse or account of the rarity of stu b a god* nd. The proprietor of this treasure did me omit to inform me thnt having the precious receptacle few thirty years hr ha, lost not merely the £l*tX) sterling, bu' also the interest 42M()0 and that eon •rqueatly this luxury had cost him UW Prufevsor Lesley, estimating the amount •f coal in the Pitt.burg r gion at about thirty b Ilion of tons a practically inex h lustiblc amount -holds, concerning oil and gas, however, very different views, lb -avs, u|«>n deliberate study : “I take th<- opportunity to expo-s my opinion in the strongest t-mis thnt the amazing ex hibition of oil and gas which has char mterized the last twenty years, and will probably characterize the next ten ol twenty years, is m-verthelcsi, not only geologically but historically, n temporary and vanishing phenomenon -one which young men will live to sec come to its natural end Arid this opinion Ido not entertain in any loose or unreasonable form; it is the result of both an active and a thoughtfiil acquaintance with thr subject. ” It is istimated by insurance companies that in tin- United Stati s Inst year dwell mg h uses wer" burned at the rate of one every hour, with an average loss of $1394. Birns and stables, fifty per week. Country stores, three per day, with n loss of $11<),0o )pir wi k. Ten hotels burn weekly, wit'i alo-s pry -ar of $1,000,- 000. Every other day a lumber yard goes up in smoke, each representing $20,000. Forty four cotton factories, the loss in each ' use te-ing $28,000; forty three woolen mills nt $25,000 each and forty two i h< mi< al work- at s27,ooocue)' were destroyed by lire last year. Forty two lr«,t and shoe factories were con sumed, the loss being $17,0 )0 each. Theatres were lapped up by tin- flames at the rate of five pi r month ; average loss $19,000. Only about half as many court housi * wi re destroyed, the cost of each being about $20,000. - ——. Charged by n Bison. In William T. Hornaday's “Two Years in tin Jungle," the following thrilling account of being charged by u bison is given. “After a long chase," he snys, “we came up with the bison, and saw him standing about eighty yards off. I wim armed with a .500 express rifle, and instantly fired, but unfortunately only wounded the animal. lie dashed away. With a party of Irulnrs (natives), 1 fol lowed, and cnnie upon him a mile further on. The instant lie caught sight of me, hi- turned to charge, when I fired again, and he gallop -d mndly off into the forest. We followed down the side of the hill, and I was locking about, trying to mnk< out wliiTe In- could have gone, when 1 caught sight of hia nose nut two feet from me. lb- hud backed himself into u dense matt of creep r*, n:i 1 was lying in wait fur me. "In half a second, with a snort like a steam-engine, le- sent me fly ing through the air. I fell mi my bu k, and wns immediately struck a blow on my ribs thnt made them spring inward, a- the top of a hencoop would with a lu aiy man sitting on it. 1 felt that my la-t hour had come. He struck me with his head again and again, some times on my breast, back mid sides, sometimes on my thighs, while again he only struck the ground in his blind fury. I ti lt that nothing could save me. He tiled to turn in ’ over with hi- nose, that lie might pierce me with hia horns, and gi tting one horn under my b It, he ai tu nlly lifted me up bodily. Luckily it was an old belt, ami ta- buckle snapped. I sie/ed his horn and held mi to it with all my strength. In trying to shake himself free, he took th* whole of the skin off the under side of inv right arm with his horn. The whole of this time, no less than six Irulurs natives had been er.liii li looking on, mid I heard one of th- in say : “ 'Dear me! the bison is killing the gentleman!’ "Another said, ‘send for the n.’.ii. m to shoot It.’ "The s/ißiire. was two miles away with my tiffin basket! One of the Irular* now uttered a most diabolical yell. The bison thn w up his he:ul, then turned tail mid dished down the hill. The next day 1 was carried into Coimbatore, where I was confined to my bed fora fortnight, my whole body being black and blue. Ni v. rtheless, that bison', head now adorns my dining room.” Illc Curative I'ewer of Nature. The old writers rce.'gtiized, in n blind sort of way, that then' was a force in the organism which tended toward recovery from disease. This they called “the curative power of nature." On:' of the glorious triumphs of mo I era medicine is a more perfect apprei iation of this great fait. “To let well enough alone," and to not weaken or prevent the action of any organ or structure iink-s it is clear that Mum thing is to be gained bi so doing, are the results of this fact being da v apprei .t. I The “kill or e'ire" dis trine is utterly abandoned by all who have any real knowledge of modern sci <ll ■<*. In order to oecure the full operation of “the curative |>ower of nature” the sick d. g go. - may by himself and obtains rest and quiet All the intelligent ani mals do tile soon . Rest for the debili tated tesiy, or of tin |x'rt:en of it injur es! by i-vi-nts. or disease, is one of the most < th, lent metbmls of obtaining a res toration to health. The signs that rest is needed may be visible only tx> thoae who hart studied the action of the organs in a healthy stair. Rest of one jiart mar bring injury to health organs. Exerciseof th« naiur-.l power- in health is generally the only tmthixi of securing their future healthy actis-u. Life Piel ares. A glow at morn: The rree half tempted into blooming re 1 Bright hope* just born That ere the eve, must shod Their |»tefs, though we never deem them daad. A warmth at noon, Full souh-l ami odorous; and life all fair As summer moon, When star, lace beams as rare As laughter which hath not behind some care. A rest at eve: The ardor and the heat of day is o'er. Hope can ileceive No longer, life no more Can weave romances from a jxiet's A hush at night: We fold our wings as birds that seek the next. Earth is badight With rose no more. The zest Os lifusinks with the sunlight in the west. • sea It Is no dream. No nuitle t.nil .ing time, that we call life To catch the gleam , Os heaven in the strife. Our toil must tend to reach the better life. There is much rixim For gratitude, much n»rn tor tendernesa In all the glisini Os sorrow, much to bless, If we will labor more, and niunnur less. Ix-t us not turn To s s-k in clouds our happiness, but try Each day to learn That near home blessings lie. This.-die bi live who first have lived to die. —Harriet. Kendall, in the Quiver. A COUNTRY COUSIN. “Yea, I remember her very well,” said Miss Ni-mourvillc. “A black-eyed romp, chasing the wild horses all over the farm, and pitching hay up on the mow, exactly as if she were a boy. Our third cousin, wasn’t she -or fourth, or some such far away kin? But what of her?" “What of-hcr?" snarled old Colonel Nemourville. “Why, just this. Her folks are dead. And one of the officious Meadow Hill clergymen has written to us, asking us to adopt her. Just as if we hadn't enough to trouble us, with three daughters on hand already, and no earthly chance, that I can see, of their getting married” (this last envenomed phrase accompanied by n gloomy contrac tion of the speaker's shaggy brows), “without assuming the charge of all crea tion into the bargain! Adopt her, in deed! Why, w hit claim has she onus, I’d like to know? The impudence of some people?" “We couldn’t possibly think of such a thing! ’ said Mrs. Nemourville, an elder ly lady, with a good deal of powder sift ed skillfully over her features, and a lace cap patterned after the latest French models. “Our income scarcely meets our expenses as things are at present. 1 do wonder at the assurance of those peo ple out there!" The Nemourville family had always kindly remembered their relationship to Mrs. Vassail when the vertical sunbeams of July and August made city life a bur den to them, mid their purse strings, straightened by the ceaseless attempt to keep up a style far above their means, refused to admit of a trip to Newport, Saratoga or the White Mountains. Mr- Vassail had welcomed them with the sweet grai iousness of thnt hospitality which comes from the he irt. Lassie, the “black-eyed romp,” had shown Blanche, Vera and E litha Nemourville the nooks where the clearest springs bubbled out, and the dells where feathery sprays of mnidcn-hnir could be gathered by the double handful, and no pains were spared to make things pleasant for the city cou sins during their somewhat prolonged visits. But all this conveniently effaced itself from their memory now . Adopt Lassie Vassell! Make them selves responsible for her board, and clothes, and bulging? Good heavens! What were people thinking of? So Colonel Nemourville wrote back a polite declination, fairly glittering with its icy conventionalities. Lassie Vassal, sitting in her deep-black robes, heard the good clergyman's wife read it twice over before she fairly com prehended its meaning. “Don’t they want me to go to them?" she asked, lifting the heavy, black-fring ed lids that were wi ighteil down with tears. "I'm afraid they don’t, dear," said the clergyman's w ife. Lassie drew a deep sigh. "Then 1 must try to find some wav of earning my own living," sard she. “You have nil been so good to me, but it must come to an end sooner or later. Dear Mrs. Hall, won’t you go and see that ladv who wanted a nursery governess to travel with her little children to Scotland? I always liked children, and they fortu nately don’t require many accomplish ments. I dread crossing the ocean a little, but I must try to leave off being a coward.” So the Nemourvilles heard nothing further of Lassie Vassell. But the girl herself did not forget all this. "They might have te'en a little kind to me," she kept repeating to herself. "They might have been a little kind to me!" The Nemoorvillca meanwhile bravely kejit upx although against wind and tide, the struggle f ir a satisfactory matrimonial •ettlement for Blanche. Vera and Editha. They gave five-o’clock tea*, purple dinners and pink lunches; they sent out cards for eoireet; went to all the charity b.dls, kirm sse» and chance-parties to which they could obtain an intree. Th -y smiled, and simpered, and danced, and promenaded with Spartan endurance; and still they remained the Misses Ne mourville. But when the waves of aociety were rippled by rumors of the advent of a live English baronet, Blanche, Vera and Editha began to hope anew. Mi.-a Clitchett, one of their particular friends, had been introduces! to Sir Iteve ' K< nnett at a Delmon co bull, and she had promised to ask the Nemourville girls to a charade party where the English bar onet was to lie present. Miss Nemourville ordered a new dress of white brocade. Vera ordered Madam Petheriquc to make over her cherry satin with flounces of black Escurial lace and a train a full quarter of a yard long. Editha, who enacted the juvenile role, ripped her one white muslin to pieces anil remade it, with puffs and plcatings of Spanish blonde and occasional knots of the palest blue ribbon. But they were doomed to the saddest disappointment. They went to the party. So did Sir Revo Kennett. But somehow they could not get near the reigning star. “DI never forgive Cornelia Clitchett!” said Miss Nemourville, as pale as her own brocade. “She hasn't taken any more notice of us than if we were those big china jars iu the corner!” “She meant a deliberate insult!” gasp ed Vera. But they were wrong. It was only that jh or (' irnclia Clitchett had entirely forgotten all about them in the rush and crush end excitement of the evening. “How handsome he is!” said Editha. “Oh, oh, why can't we get an introduc tion? Look, look! he's coming this way. Who is that lady on his arm—the tall lady in white, with the magnificent eyes and the necklace of pearls?” “Don't you know?” said Mrs. De Sain tin. “It’s Lady Kennett.” “Lady Kennett?" “His wife,” explained Mrs. De Saintin, graciou ,ly. “He is here on his wedding tour. Lady Kennett is charming. They arc to give a ball at the Windsor Hotel, in return for the hospitalities they have received here.” “Oh!” said the three Misses Nemour ville, in concert. “Haven’t you been introduced?” asked Mrs. De Saintin. “No? Pray allow me the pleasure!” And presently Sir Reve and Lady Ken nett were b iwing their acknowledgment of the profuse courtesies of the Misses Nemourville. If the English guests had been crown ed monarchs, these damsels could not fnave been more obsequious. Sir Reve was tali and strikingly hand some. Lady Kennett had fine eyes and a graceful figure, but was not otherwise remarkable. "Nemourville!” she repeated. “Did you say Nemourville?” "A pretty name, isn’t it?” said Mrs. De S lintin. "But it is not new to me,” said Lady Kennett, smiling. “I have met these ladies before.” “I'm sure, your ladyship, I don't know how that could be," said Blanche, quite fluttered with the idea of addressing a lady of title. "Oh, I declare, your ladyship!” gig gled Vera. "Your ladyship is making fun of us," said artless Editha. "Oh, but lam quite certain of it!" said Lady Kennett, iu her slow, graceful way. “Y’ou,” to the elder, “are Blanche,. aren’t you? And you are Vera? And this is Editha? Now, am I not right? Is it possible that you have forgotten me?” The three Misses Nemourville would not for the world have suspected an En glish baronet’s lady of inaccuracy. But they certainly viewed her with re spectful incredulity and amazement. "I am Lassie,"said she—“ Lassie Vas sal], who used to pick blackberries and gather autumn leaves with you. lam your cousin three times removed!” The three Misses Nemourville were straightway lifted from comparative in significance to the top wave of populari ty. As three elderly spinsters, they had i een rather drugs in the market than otherwise. But as Lady Kennett’s cou sin-, the dawn of a new social existence was brightening over them. "You darling!” cried Blanche, when she cime to lunch nt the Windsor Hotel, the next day, with Sir Reve and Lady Kennett. “Now you must tell me, how did it all happen?" "1 don't know, I am sure," said Las sie, timidly. “I went to Scotland as a nurse y-governess with a lady who was a friend of good Mrs. Hall’s; and at Loch Lomond we met Sir Reve. and—and—" ’ And I can teil the rest," said Sir Reve, laughingly, taking up the dropped chain of Lassie’s words. “And Sir Reve fell in love with you, and he would give you no peace at all until you married him , —eh, little girl?” And as Lassie smiled shyly up at him, Blanche Nemourville could not but ac knowledge to herself that this third cou sin of hers had wonderful dark eyes. “But for all that," she afterward told Editha and Vera, "I can*t sec what there was in Lassie Vassail to attract such a man a* Sir Reve Kennett. If it had been ; me, now, or either »f you—" “Yes,” nodded the two other sisters, ' ‘•if it hud been either of u»! But a mere country chit, right off the farm, without a particle of style about her!” And then they all three cried in chorus: “It's quite unaccountable!',’ — Helen Fvrreet Grarei. Why Be is Proud. “There is one thing in my life,” said a veteran, “that sends the blood through my veins in proud exultation to this day, and the thought of it never comes to me but what I want to step outside of myself and pat myself on the shoulder. There are hundreds of things in my life that I am ashamed of, and that I would gladly forget. There are hundreds of things that I have done which never come to my mind without making me wish that I had the power to kick myself from one end of the street to the other. But the memory of this one thing that I did is a compensation for all the things that I am ashamed of. “In one of the squarest, fairest, fiercest battles of the war. 500 men were thrown forward to check for a moment the furious charge of twenty times as many Confederates. Os the 500 men in line at the beginning of the charge, five stood at the end by the colors. I was one of the five, and I never think of the hail of bul lets, of the hurricane swoop of charging thousands that swept men to sudden death or away before it like chaff in the wind, but I see those five sullen, desper ate, white-faced, stubborn men gathered in a startled group about the torn and blood-stained flag that had been down and up a good many times. Dazed they were, half-crazed they were, by the over whelming catastrophe, but the instinct ot clinging to the flag was there. “My comrades were better soldiers than I. They were men whose eyes flashed, and whose nostrils widened when conflict became furious, and it was a delight tc me in that minute to know that in thii hour of trial my controlling impulse, my instinctive move had been the same as ■theirs, to cling to the flag. I had no idea, then that, we would live five min- : utes, and yet I exulted in the thought that when put to trial I had done my full duty. We brought the flag out of the fight. Four of the men are living yet, i but they have not met since the war. i They are all in humble walks of life, and not one of them is given to self-adulation, but to all of them that incident of battle ( is a precious memory. After that, as one of the old codgers said in iiis own quaint way, ‘They were a leetie too proud evei to do a cowardly thing again.’ ”—Chica go Inter- Oc an. Silenced. The Scotch often use humor to settle a question which, otherwise, might give rise to an excited argument, involving much hair splitting logic. The follow ing anecdote of Norman McLeod, the ; eloquent preacner, illustrates this happy use of the wit which transfixes a man as an entomologist does a bug. He was or. his xvay to church, to open a new place of worship. As he passed slowly and gravely through the crowd gathered about the doors, an elderly man, with | the peculiar kind of a xvig known in that district—bright, smooth, and of a red dish brown—accosted him. “Doctor, if you please, I xvish to speak to you.” “Well, Duncan,” said the venerable doctor, “can not you wait till after wor ship?" “No, doctor, I must speak to you now, for it is a matter upon my conscience.” “Oh, since it is a matter of conscience, teil me what it is; but be brief, Duncan* for time passes.” “The matter is this, doctor. Ye see ; the clock yonder, on the face of this new ' church? Well, there is no clock really there; nothing but the face of a clock. There is no truth in it but only once in the twelve hours. Now, it is in my mind very wrong, and quite against my con science, that there should be a lie on the face of the house of the Lord.” “Duncan, I will consider the point. But I am glad to see you looking so well. You arc not young now; I remember you for many years; and what a fine head of hair you have still.” “Eh, doctor, you arc joking now; it is long since I have had any hair.” “O Duncan! Duncan! are you going into the house of the Lord with a lie upon your head ?” This, says the story, settled the ques tion; and the doctor heard no more of the lie on the face of the clock. Byrou Swinimln? the Hellespont. It was in May, 1810, that Lord Byron, iu emulation of Leander, swam across the Hellesjxmt. The distance, however, being two miles from the European to the Adriatic side, when he reached the latter, from exhaustion, he was compelled to seek repose in the hut of a Turkish fisherman, where he remained carefully attended by the wife for five days. Upon his departure, his lordship, whose rank and fame were unknown to the Turkish peasants, received a gift of a loaf, some cheese, a skin of wine and the blessings of Allah. In return Byron sent the fish erman a few fishing-nets, a fowling piece and several yards of silk for his wife. The Turk, overwhelmed with gratitude, resolved to cross the Hellespont to thank his unknown guest, but in the passag. his boat was upset, and the poor fellow met with a watery grave. 'AN ODD CHARACTER. Anecdotes of an Old Ken tucky Congressman. How He Defeated His Opponent and How He Won a Law Suit. A Washington letter to the Minneapo lis Tribune, says: One of the characters in the House is General \Volford of Ken tucky. When he is at home he wears an old flannel shirt and trousers strapped about his waist. When he came here he found he had to change his costume and put on a “biled” shirt and black clothes. At first he was averse to this, but some friends bought him a black suit. He has worn it ever since, and this is his second term. But he would not dare to go home dressed as he is now, for his constituents would think he had become effeminate. Several good stories arc told of his first campaign when he took the stump against General Fry. When he was first nomi nated for Congress, General Fry asked him to unite with him and make several speeches together. Wolford accepted the invitation. The first meeting xvas enough for General Fry. General Wol ford commanded the first Kentucky cav alry in the Union army, and the regiment was known as the “critterbacks.” He had several of his men on the platform with him when he made his speech. He opened most brilliantly, but suddenly startled General Fry by asking the as semblage if they knew what the Union had done with General Lee after he sur rendered at Appomattox. “Why, gen tlemen, will you believe it, when he was. out walking under an apple tree, near the very hotise xvhere. he surrendered, they grabbed him. Y'es, the men who had granted him a parole seized him, and, sir, they not only did that, but they hung General Lee to the very apple tree under which he was walking! Hung him dead!” General Fry at first was so surprised he could not speak, but jump ing to his feet, he said: “General Wol ford, you know that is not so. General Lee was never hung.” “But, sir,” exclaimed General Wolford, “I was there, and I know it is so. Wasn’t it, John!" and he turned to one i of his “critter-backs.” The man nodded his head, as did the others, who sat near him. General Fry sat back in his chair • overcome. “This is net all,” said General Wol ford, turning to the crowd in front of him “The Union men locked Jeff. Davis up in Fortress Monroe, and one beautiful moonlight night xvhen the tide was low, they took him out and tied him to a stake on the beach. The sea came in gradually, the waves swept over him and he was drowned, and they stood and heard his cries.” This was too much for General Fry. Again he protested and said that Jeff. Davis was alive still, but the “critter backs” endorsed General Wolford, and seeing that his opponent intended to* keep the thing up, General Fry xvithdrew aud General Wolford was elected by a rousing majority. Another story is told of General Wol ford when he was trying a case in his na tive toxvn in Adair county, Kentucky. His client had been charged xvith poison ing some one. The chemist for the state had testified to finding arsenic in the stomach of the deceased, and then Gen eral Wolford took the witness in hand. “Do you find any flies’ wings in the stomach?” asked the general. “No, sir, i for I did not look for any. I found ar i senic," answered the chemist. “Could you swear that there were no I flies’ wings in the stomach?” he asked. “No, sir, because I did not look for them.” “How did you know they were not there?” “I don’t say they were not. ” “That’s funny; you say you found ar senic but no fly wings. Y'et you are not certain as to tiieir not being there,” said General Wolford. The witness in vain tried to explain, the lawyer had twisted the witness up, and so lie addressed the jury. “Gentlemen, I demand the aquit tal of my client. This chemist says he found arsenic in the stomach of the de ceased, but no fly wings. Yet everybody knows that when any one swallows one or two flies they turn to arsenic in the stomach, yet no fly wings xvere found; therefore I doubt if there was any arsenic there either.” The man was acquitted! Thonght He Needed One. Scene: Jones’s dressing-room. Brown: “Ah-h, Jones, what have we here?” Jones: “Oh, that’s a tidy I bought at the church fair, don’t you know. Charming girl—Miss De Johnson— bought it at her table, you know. Real ly couldn’t help myself, she smiled so sweetly and said I’d find it so useful.” Brown: "Did she though! Why man. it’s one of these crocheted washrags.”— Life. The Name Appropriate. ‘‘What a queer name for a bonnet!”" exclaimed Mrs. Snaggs, as she was read ing the fashion notes in last night’s paper. "What is it?” asked her husband. “The 'Giraffe.’ It has just been intro duced in Paris.” “I expect the altitude of the price makes the name very appropriate,” ex plained buaggs.— Pittsburg Chronicle.