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>TV ' ' » . i - J J »tSft!te KO fllUC USE THE OLD TIM*. , " ,*>^4 *( : •^t BY OLIVER WKNDKIiL BOLXK^ to no time lik« the old time, ' •mW' l-ste. P* : m-. •- •). ? - -i* !"<•-- 45 1 SteJkfj When yon and I were young, When the buds of April blossomed, And the birds of spring-time BUiif. The garden's brightest glories By rammer guns are nursed. Bat O, the sweet, sweet vioiets, Has flowers that opened first! There is no place like the old plsoe, Where, jou and I wore bora, Where w<i lifted first our eyelids, On the splendors of the morn, 1 Prom the milk-white breasts that warmed BS| from the clinging arms that bore,ife,f 1 Where the dear eyes glistened o'er w * That will look lor us no mor«! *-*.» •f1 There Is nn frlptld like the Old fileal That shared our morning day*, No greeting like his welcome, No homage like his praise; Fame is the scentless sunflower, With gaudy crown of gold; Bat friendship is the breathing With sweeU in every fold. There is no love like the old lore ' That we courted in our pride* • ,«-•,• Though our leaves are falling, ralU'qff' And we're fading side by side, There are blossoms all around us. With the colors of our dawn, And ire live in borrowed sunshine When the light of clay is gone. There are no times like the old timet-- They shall never be forgftt! There is no place like the old plaoe-- Keep green the dear oid spot! ' There ave no friends like our old friends- May heaven prolong their lives! There are no loves like the old loves-- , fiad bless our loving wives! AT GEORWIE. I have been asked to tell the story; imt. if I tell it at all, it must be in my own way. I'm an old woman now, and if I ramble and maunder at times, why, perhape you would do the same if you •were sixty years old. It wasn't necessary to see through a millstone to see that one of the girls loved him with her whole heart, while the other--but there 1 I , (|pve got into the middle of the story, ibd haven't told you the beginning vet. There wasn't any great hum in Ida-- I believe that thoroughly--but the child VB8 too much of a kitten to know her own mind. Pretty? Oh, yes, very pretty, even to my old eyes; just the sort of beauty that old age likes, with plenty of light and color about it--great soft dark eyes, and heaps of dark tan­ gled hair, and the bloom of the datnoalr rose on her soft oval cheeks. She was * good little thing in the main, but fan- dful and flighty and capricious as a will- ©*-the-wisp, and with a whole storehouse Of romance treasured up in her foolish little brain.. It was really as good as a to see that dainty, luxurious little weature sitting there in her silks and Iftoes, talking about self-sacrifice and the pleasure of working and economizing lor the man one loved. Work and econ­ omy, forsooth! Mid she knew about as Until of either as a mollusk does of alge- ttta.- Not that I know what a mollusk is --heaves forbid!--bat it seems to be tftie fashion now to talk the most of what you understand the least Yes, Ida was • nice little thing, bright and good- natured, and generous in an impulsive, open-handed way; but, bless you! she had about as much power of loving in her as a kitten. She could like people and be fond of them, and all that port of filing, as long as everything was smooth «nd pleasant; but at the first touch of adversity--puff! her little rush-light of love was out with a whift, instead of horning up clearer and stronger ar>^ fiercer for the blast, as it ought to do if H were the right sort. What is the use of being hard upon flbe child, though, for what she could no more help than she could the mole upon her cheek, which troubled her so ? Love i» a gift and a talent, like any other. Borne people have it and some haven't, and whether it is a gift to be prayed for or not is a question my poor old brain flannot pretend to settle. I believe in it ye^ old as I am, and I believe in ins&ni- : tjjF, but it's precious little I've' seen of either the one or the other. They say we are till crazy, more or less, only in jiaost people it never comes out very strong, and perhaps it's the same with love. I suppose most of us have more «r less of the commodity lying loose ..about us ready to be squandered on . .anybody that comes along. People in : geiierai are satisfied to dribble it out, here a little and cLere & little, until it is all |one, and nobody the better for it-- •or the worse. Once in a while, though, You come across somebody who has hoarded up the whole stock, and kept it . intact until the one comes along who •claims it all. Is that the better way? Tm sure I can't tell. It all depends Upon who comes in for it at the end. Georgie was one of that kind, I think; a little mite of a creature, with none of Ida's brightness or bloom about her, hut taking, in her way, too, with the look of quiet resolution about the square chin and firm little mouth, and the •wistful, yearning spirit that seemed al­ ways peeping out of the blue-gray eyes. 8oft brown hair, and a fail's, quiet little tape that could wake up and sparkle Vith life when anything stirred or ftmused her--that was Georgie. And hoth of the girls thought they loved him, though what there was about that was so wonderfully attractive I never could see. A good-looking young fel­ low enough, tall and manly, with a • brown mustache, and a clear frank look in his brown eyes. You see hundreds as good as he1 is every day, and what h ere was about him Well, well, girls are mysteries, and very different from what they were when I was young. we didn't consider it proper to 4alk, or even think, about such things. *Ve took the good the gods gave us in that line, and were thankful; or, if we flidn t choose to take it, we went without, 'end never vexed our heads about any might have beens." That's what I did, and I'm none the worse for it now. Per­ haps, though, if Georgie's father - But that is all over and done with long ago. Sometimes I think, though, that that may be the reason I love tiie girl so well--better, yes, certainly better, *Ha Ida, though she is my own niece. But kere I am maundering c& about my own views and my own thoughts and my own feelings, and haven't told you who they all are yet. Ida, you see, is my niece--Ida Merton, my brother^ •only child. Georgie is Georgie Gresh- 8JXL, a distant connection of Ida's, who " Jives in the house, but supports herself iby giving music lessons. Such a patient, plucky, indomitable little mite as she is, trudging out in all weathers, and coming back pale and tired, but with never a complaint from her firm little lips, and always with a bright smile and a cheer­ ful word for " Aunt Jeanie," as she, too, calls me. I believe the child really does love me; and does Ida, only hers is a different sort of love. You feel that if you were away, Ida would lOve a stick, or a stone, or anything that might hap­ pen to be in your place; but Georgie would never forget you--never. The young man is Mark Drayton, and he is •0nly a clorlt sn my brother's store; but, lor all that, he is of good birth and breeding. The wheel of fortune has ; f.range ups and downs, and he was glad enough of the place when Mr. Merton nought him out and offered it to him, in memory of early benefits which he had received from young Drayton's father. Neither of them had ever had any re*soT> to repent the step, for Mark had proved to be steady and honorable, with rare flashes of what was almost like a genius for business, if there can be such a thing. He had risen steadily, until it was quite understood that next year he was to be a partner in the large whole­ sale and retail dry goods house of Mer­ ton & Co. All things considered, he would not have been such a bad match for Ida, only that I knew that the child did not really care about him, and there was Georgie breaking her prsud, patient little heart for his sake, and nobody s<tw it but one old woman, who had been through it all herself and knew what it meant. It was hard enough for her sometimes, but she was not the kind to fret or bemoan herself. Of course the young man was caught by Ida's witcheries, for the little puss was as fond of admiration as a cat is of sparrows, and spared no pains to fasci­ nate him. I wonder that the two girls continued as good friends as they did ; but I think Georgie saw that Ida was not to blame, and was only acting out her nature, in perfect ignorance of the dead­ ly hurt which she was inflicting upon her friend. For though Georgie had told her of her long, long friendship with Mark Drayton when he was only a poor, struggling clerk, she had never told of the looks and words and ways with which he had won away her heart before either of them knew it. Not that the young man was dishonorable either. She had been his only friend in those days, you see. That was while her widowed mother was still living and Georgie was living with her. It was not until after her mother had died that the girl came to live in Mr. Merton's house. Sympathy and friendship are very sweet, and Georgie had been patient, tender and true, and the young man had learned to think of her as a sister, and perhaps to love her as something more, but it all seemed so hopeless that he never spoke. And then he met Ida, and was dazzled and bewitched by her, and so Georgie was eclipsed for awhile --only for awhile, I felt sure, if he and Ida could but be kept from committing themselves until both had had time to wake up from their foolish dream. That evening, though, I began to fear that the rash young things would take matters into their own hands. Mark al­ ways did run about the house like a tame cat; there were few evenings that did not find them in our drawing room. No doubt it was very good for the young man, and kept Mm out of a great deal of mischief, but I could not help thinking sometimes that he was not the only one to be considered. That even Ida exert­ ed all her witchery. Such a bright sparkling little puss she was when she chose! It was not what she said ; that was well enough in its way, but neither remarkably wise or witty, but so en­ forced and pointed by droopings of the long lashes, and poutings of the red lips, and flashing of the dark eyes, and fiutterings of the little white hands, that even an old woman like me Couldn't help forgetting for awhile what nonsense the whole thing was, and be carried away and captivated and fascinated in spite of herseif. And all the while my little Georgie sat there, with her pale face and her gentle, quite ways and her quaint little words, just the same as ever, for anything they could see. And I fancied now and then that there was a quick catching of her breath or a passing con­ traction of her pretty forehead--why, perhaps it ips only my fancy. I tried to think so, at all events. Presently they began to tftlk of the opera, and Ida declared with her pretty hands clasped, that she adored Nilsson. Didn't Mr. Drayton think she was juat divine ? And oh 1 what would she give to see her in "Faust"? She never had seen her in that, and was sure she must be a perfect Marguerite. Did Mr. Dnyton know that that was the opera for to-morrow night, and perhaps that would be the last time it would be given? And Ida stopped, with her hands still clasped and her eyes fixed on the young man. I declare I could have boxed her pretty pink ears. Georgie could not have done it; but then things that would have seemed forward and unmaidenly in other girls, in Ida seemed so simple and artless and unconscious that you could not be disgusted with her. Of course there was nothing for Mr. Drayton to do but to say that lie would be delighted to escort her. I caught one swift glance from Georgie's eyes, and then I remembered that he was to have taken her on that very evening to hear a celebrated pianist, who was set- ing the whole city wild ; but Georgie did not speak. She was only a friend and a sister, and must learn to be quiet­ ly put aside when others claimed his services. Perhaps, the young man's conscience smote him a little, for he was tin usually gentle and attentive in his ways to Georgie that evening, and I heard him say, "You know, Georgie, that he will be here for some time, and aqy night will do for him, but Nilsson may not appear as Marguerite again." " Oh, yes, it is all right. I quite un­ derstand," said Georgie ; and if his ear was not quick enough to detect the lit tie quiver in her voice, nor his eye sharp enough to see the flutter of her lip, though my old eyes and ears could per­ ceive both, whose fault was that ? Love is blind, they say; but a calm, friendly indifference is blinder than any mole. I scarcely saw Georgie the next day, but Ida was in and out, bright «ind bUthe as usual. When the evening came both the girls were in the drawing room. Ida was radiant. Her dress was of black silk, but all tricked off with soft, fine laces, with flecks of scarlet here and there. Scarlet fuchsias nodded in her hair and dropped at her dainty throat. Georgia looked like a pale shadow beside her, in her soft gray gowh, unrelieved by a single dash of color, bat, to my eyes, so sweet and fair in her grave, quiet com­ posure. Well, the eveuingcrept slowly on, and Ida grew impatient, flashing hither and thither in her quick, restless way, while Georgie, half hidden in the shadow of the curtains, knitted on steadily at some piece of soft fleece work, apparently un­ moved. The carriage had been waiting at the door for ah hour, and still no of Mark. _ Just as Ida was for the fortieth time appealing to us to know if it were not the strangest thing we ever heard of,and where in the world could he be, the door opened. 2nd Mr, Msrton entered. ^ f«»ii fine-looking man was this brother of mine, with silver hair and clear bliie eyes, and the port and bearing of a gen­ tleman of the old school, with the pol­ ished courtesy of that by-gone class, too, and the dignified calm which scarce any­ thing could ruffle. So it startled us to see a shadow on his face, which deepen­ ed after the quick glance which he cast aroundlkhe room. " What is the matter, brother Paul f" I asked ; and both girls looked up. "I am vexed and puzzled," was his reply--a most unusual thing for him, " I came in hoping against hope to find Mark Drayton here. YcfU have seen nothing of him?" Mark Drayton! Ida listened in earn­ est now, and even Georgie dropped her work. 1 "Itis a most perplexing thing,"he went on. " I would stake my life on the young fellow's truth and honor; yet what can have become of hira ?" Become of him! A perfect hurricane of questions arose ; only Georgie was silent as death in her obscure corner. As soon as Ida could be induced to listen and let the rest hear, brother Paul told his story. How that in the morning a lady had entered the store, a lady regal in silka and laces, more regal in port and bear­ ing, so brother Paul said, tall and fair, with, great flashing hazel eyes, and hair of palest gold. How that this lady, af­ ter inspecting and lavishly ordering the richest and costliest goods, velvets, silks of every shacle, laces--old point, Horn- ton, guipure, Mechline--" enough to dress you from head to foot, Ida "--had suddenly discovered that she had forgot­ ten her purse and check-book. In sore perplexity she sent her card to Mr. Mer­ ton--Mrs. Launce D'Arleton was the name he bore--with a request for an in­ terview. Explaining that she was ob­ liged to leave town that afternoon, she begged him to send a trusty clerk in the carriage with her to receive and bring back the money. "So," said brother Paul, in conclu­ sion, " I asked Mark to go as a per­ sonal favor. It is hardly his business, but I thought I could trust him." "Well, papa?" said Ida, as he paused. "Well, that is all," said brother Paul. " All, papa ? But where is Mark ?" " Ah I that is the question. Since he entered the carriage with Mrs. D'Arle­ ton, nothing has been seen of him. The sum was a large one, and whether he has yielded to the sudden temptation--but that is impossible. Yet foul play, the only alternative, seems equally impossi­ ble. I have set the police on the track, but I am utterly baffled and bewil­ dered." I cannot pretend to describe the scene that followed this announcement. I know that for a moment there was dead silence in the room. We were all, I think, too much shocked and stunned to speak. Ida still stood in the middle of the floor, with a face from which every vestige of color had fled. Then Georgie come forward, and, as if her movement had snapped the spell, the silence broke up suddenly--questions, surmises, doubts, suspicions, set aside as soon as formed, for none of us could really sus­ pect of any evil-doing the young man whom we had known so long and so well. But all came back to the oHe horrible, unanswerable question, where could he be? I can only tell the story from my own point of view, and there is no use in my trying to enter into the details of the police search, of the rewards offered, of the clews which they thought they had found, but which invariably led to noth­ ing. Had the earth opened and swal­ lowed Mark and that mysterious woman, they could not have disappeared more utterly. The detective system was a mystery past our comprehension, and we could do nothing but sit at home and wait, deluded with fresh hopes or sick­ ened by fresh fears as day after day crept slowly on. You understand that, apart from the horror of the mystery so suddenly thrust into our midst, my heart was wrung for Georgie, bearing her burden of anguish so patiently. Day by day her little face grew paler and thinner, and the wistful, yearning look deepened in her eyes, and her lips were more firmly set in their resolute line. But I knew that her dread was only of his death ; I knew that no shadow of a doubt of his truth and honor had ever crossed her mind. And how was it with Ida ? The child, at first, was the most wretched of any of us, and yielded to her feelings without restraint. But when the firstliorrible shock was over--how shall I express it I I think the long misery of suspense bored her. She could never endure ennui, and, sad and shocking as it may be, there is a certain dreadful ennui in all protracted grief. She grew tired of it jjired of waiting and hoping and fear­ ing; tired of our sad faces ; tired, most of all, of the long strain of grief on her light, careless nature. So at last it was really a relief to her to open her ears to the rumors and suspicions which circu­ lated among those who did not know Mark as we did. It justified her in cast­ ing aside the show of sadness, which had already ceased to be anything but a show, and when a doubt was once enter­ tained, it was easy for it to become a settled, angry conviction. Well, time passed on, as it always does, whether its foot falls on roses or on breaking hearts. We were all col­ lected in the drawing-room. How well I remember the scene! The room was lighted only by the wood fire, which sent its fine flickers wavering over floor and ceiling. Georgie sat on a low otto­ man. How thin her face looked as the bright lights and deep shadows chased each other across it! She was dressed in black, put on, perhaps, poor Child ! as a silent emblem of the sorrow that had almost died into hopelessness. Ida was at the other side of the room, talk­ ing to young Somerby, who had dropped in, just as she used to talk to Mark, with the same pretty gestures, the same arch inflections, the same soft, ringing laughter. How coiild she? But it was the child's nature. I dared not forget that, or I should have hated her for her fickleness and heartlessuess Suddenly the door into the hall open­ ed. And who stood there, a black fig­ ure sharply defined against the glare of light ? For an instant we all sat mute and motionless, uncertain, I think, whether it was a ghost or not. For we had become so sure, Georgie and I, that he was dead, you see. though neither of us had breathed, the suspicion to the other, nor would we have acknowledged it had we been taxed with it. For an instant we sat so, and then with a low cry of "Mark! oh, Mark! is it you at last ?" Georgie sprang forward, her face all lighted up with eager joy and tri­ umph. But he? He scarcely noticed her-- my poor little Georgie I -just took her hand mechanically as he peered into the shadows. " Ida J" I exclaimed, sharply, for the child had never stirred, though she saw him well enough. Then she came forward, slowly and re­ luctantly. I think she was frightened, for she hated tragedy with every fiber of her nature, and she had been living in the midst of it for two weeks, and now its culmination in bodily shapes tood be­ fore her. She did not know what to do. The kitten had nothing in her nature to enable her to rise to the level of such a crisis as this. She cotild neither cast away her suspicions nor avow them, bold­ ly to his face. She just stood before him, with eyes half downcast, half avert­ ed, but with fear and suspicion and dis­ trust written so legibly on every feature that the young man must have been blind indeed not to read that silent lan­ guage. Not a word of welcome, not a question as to where he had been, noth­ ing but that confused, blushing sience which the most easily deluded lover could never have mistaken for the timid­ ity of love and joy. I think Mark <was bewildered at first, but as he stood and gazed at her, gradually the meaning of it all grew plain to him, and his expres­ sion changed. I eaw the pride and calm contempt slowly rise and overflow his face, as it were, as a wave may spref slowly over a flat when the tide com in. There was no anger in Ms look,: resentment. He seemed only like o: who wakens slowly frOm a pleas dream. And then--then he turned my Georgie at last, and aver his f< there came a glow and a light such had never seen there before, as he simply : " But Georgie believed in me." And she went to him and wept heart away in his encircling arm, an drew Ida softly away and left th Young Somerby had had sense eno to take himseif^ff before, So Geo: had won not much of a prize, after to my thinking ; but if she was sati that was all that was necessary. Of course I was dying to hear story, but I had not the heart to in upon them then. When he did tell it tit last, it seemed more like a crazy dream than a sober, matter-of-fact episode of the nineteenth century. When he got into the carriage with Mrs. D'Arleton, she, it seems, began to talk in so bril­ liant and fascinating a manner that he did not notice the direction in which they were driving until they stopped be­ fore a large building, whicn he recogniz­ ed as the lunatic asylum. Requesting him to wait a few minutes, as she had busi­ ness inside, she left him. Shortly after he was greeted politely by the doctor in charge, who came to the carriage, and, addressing him as Mr. D'Arleton, re­ quested him to step out for a minute. Mark disclaimed the name, but for t.hia Dr. Langley was prepared, as Mrs. D'­ Arleton had told him that her husband was the victim of a strange hallucination, believing himself a cleric in the house of Morton & Co., and giving his name as Mark Drayton. Recognizing the trap set for him, Mark by his own account, lost his head for the moment, knooked down one or two of the men who ad­ vanced to seize him, and conducted himself generally so like a lunatic that there was no room for doubt of Mrs. D'Arleton's story in any mind. Of course he was overpowered at last and taken into the building, catching a glimpse as he passed of Mrs. D'Arleton in an attitude of bitter and most becom­ ing grief. She had taken the precau­ tion to pay his board a month in ad­ vance, thus securing his detention long enough to allow her to escape with her booty. As time went on and he became calmer, his entreaties to be confronted with Mr. Merton, which at first had been treated as mere ravings, began to make more impression. At last Dr. Langley, meeting Mr. Merton accidentally, men­ tioned the circumstances and the result, of course, was Mark's release. So there is my story, and if it is not artistically handled, why, I am an old woman, as I told you, and not used to such things. To me the chief interest centered in Georgie, and if I have made her the principal figure, and rather slurred over Mark's adventures, it is partly for that reason and partly be­ muse, beyond the bare outline, we could not get much out of him. He had suf­ fered too much, I suppose, during his incarceration to let his mind dwell upon it willingly. Mrs. D'Arleton was never traced; but whenever we take up a paper and read of a successful swindling opera­ tion, we look at each other and wonder, " What is she ?" Georgie and Mark are very happy, if we may judge by appearances, and I think we may. Ida has outgrown her suspicions, and Mark has forgiven her for them, but the old glamour has gone forever, which is very fortunate for all concerned. And if Ida and young Som­ erby should come to terms, why, I think it will be a very good thing, for there are no heights in the nature of either after which the other must m vain. So my task is done, and now I canlay down my pen and take my rest by the hearth where we have sat, Georgie and I, so many times, and where we have both dreamed our dreams--I of a dark­ ened past, she of a darkened future. We dream them no more; and if her future is bright, I see beyond and above a future for me which is bright with a brightness that earth can never give.-- Harper's Magazine. Don't Judge by Appearances; A sharp trick that was, as told to us last evening, which occurred day before yesterday in a saloon in this city. We are told that the trick is an old one, in­ troduced to this country from across the big pond. On the day in question a flashily dressed fellow entered the sa­ loon referred to, called for a cock-tail, and then took a seat at a table, read the papers a while, and then fell asleep. Presently two men entered, who, after taking a drink, seated themselves at an adjoining table, and engaged in conver­ sation about some property one was evi­ dently trying to sell the other. In the «orir«ft of a naif hour there were some three or four other arrivals, when one of th© first mentioned two gents addressed his friend in a voice that could be heard by all: " If I was that gent I wouldn't sleep in a saloon; it isn't quite safe with all that jewelry on his person." The sleeping gent had one o f those heavy gold neck chains, with a massive slide, and, judging from that, he must have had a valuable gold watch attached to it. The other made answer, " Oh, I guess it's snide; or very likely he has only an oroide watch." And in a playful man­ ner he proceeded to gently draw what ought to be the watch from the sleeper's pocket. This of coarse attracted the at­ tention of the others in. the bar-room, and one of them asked him if he was ac­ quainted with the gentleman asleep. He answered, "No, but I want to see what time it is." In place of a watch it turned out to be a nicely polished piece of wood, made in the shape of a watch. When it was exposed to view of course there was a general laugh, which woke up the gentleman, snd he was greeted on all sides with, " My friend, what time is it?" " Nice watch, that, you carry !" etc. Seeming not to understand their questions, he placed his hand over his pocket, and feeling that everything was all right, simply remarked, " Gentlemen, my watch has run down." This, of course, only renewed the laughter on the part of the crowd, when the gentleman who made the exposure offered to bet him $10 that there was not a watch-key in the city that would fit that watch of his, Another offered to bet $10 more that he didn't have a watch, when the gent indignantly said he did if he was not robbed while he slept, and that he would take that bet. While fairing out his pocket book, two or three others of- gentlemen plices with the owner of the watch in this clever little trick. ̂ --Davenport Dem­ ocrat. A Million Postage Stamps. Several times there have been pub­ lished stories to the effect that some good little boy (after the manner of the Sunday school books), animated by a noble ambition to distinguish himself, had undertaken to collect 1,000,000 de­ faced postage stamps, but usually these stories are discredited, and cynical peo­ ple intimate that the statements are printed to cover design on the part of dishonest persons to collect large quan­ tities of old stamps, and then by re­ moving the canceling marks, dispose of them as new stamps to the innocent and unsuspecting. Here is a story, however, which is strictly true. Some time ago a young girl, a pupil in an up­ town Sunday school, over which one of our dry goods princes presides as super­ intendent, received a promise from a wealthy gentleman, a patron of the school, that if she succeeded by July 1 in collecting 1,000,000 he would settle an annuity upon her sufficient to sup­ port her for life. She communicates (this extraordinary promise to the afore­ said superintendent, who told her to get it in writing. She obtained the written promise, and now the superintendent is assisting her to procure the requisite number to obtain the annuity. He has already interested such firms as H. B. Claflin & Co., Peake, Opdyke & Co., Keane & Fniyne, the Home Insurance Company, and others who receive a large number of letters, and already she has on hand nearly 400,000 old stamps. She had received over 20,000 from Claf­ lin alone. Doubtless if any of your readers wish to assist in this laudable enterprise, contributions to either of the houses mentioned will find their way to the painstaking girl in question.--New York Cor. Chicago Tribune. Riding Camels. Mounting the oamel is not difficult, but it has some sweet surprises for the novice. The camel lies upon the ground with all his legs shut up under him lil™ a jackknife. You seat yourself in the broad saddle, and cross your legs in front of the pommel. Before you are ready, something like a private earthquake be­ gins under yow. The camel raises his hind quarters suddenly, and throws yon over upon his neck ; and, before you re­ cover from that he straightens up his knees and gives you a jerk over his tail; and, while you are not at all certain what has happened, he begins to move off with that dislocated walk which sets you into a see-saw motion, a .weaving backward and forward in the capacious saddle. Not having a hinged back fit for this movement, you lash the beast with your koorbash to make him change his gait. He is nothing loth to do it, and at once starts into a high trot, which sends you a foot into the air at every step, bobs you from side to side, drives your back­ bone into your brain, and makes casti- nets of your teeth. Capital exercise. When you have enough of it you pull up, and humbly inquire what is the heath­ en method of riding a dromedary. It is simple enough. Shake the loose halter rope (he has neither bridle nor bit) against his neck as you swing a whip, and the animal at once swings into an easy pace ; that is, a pretty easy pace; like that of a rocking-horse. But every­ thing depends upon the camel,-- War- ner'* Jiook on Egypt. * Pith and Point. Silent deeds are better Bimi unprofit­ able words. The first gambler mentioned in scrip­ ture was Alpha. Alphabet---eve ry knows. " He's a polished gentleman," «Mvid she, gazing fondly at the bald head which showeth Jier handiwork. Civiuty doesn't cost as much as half a pint of peanuts, and yet some people prefer investing in peanuts.--Boston Post. Wht doesn't Secretary Robeson have halh introduced into the navy as a means of deadly warfare? It's the very best thing in the world to repel boarders. Thev say that at the centennial ball in 'Frisco a gentleman presented an apple to a lady who was in a very undress uni­ form, with the remark : "As I see, madam, you came as Eve, permit me to complete your costume." The Southern negroes are mystified over the recent visits of cyclones and hurricanes, and an aged Savannah darkey remarks : " If dese winds can't be down a little, what's de use ub buying mules and 'clumulating a family ?" English sparrows have built their nests in the nostrils of a horse on which is placed a statue of Washington, at Richmond, Va.. It don't affect the horse's swallow at all, and its a neat tribute to that on-nest man George W. _ Prof. Cbookes discovers that the light of a candle weighs 0.001728 grains. lamp light is of course still heavier. This is the reason why young folks some­ times turn down the lamp. By the way isn't it a funny fact that light is heavy? Rathbb remarkable, ain't it, sir ? But 'ave you never noticed as mostly all the places on this line begins with a H ? Aw, beg your pardon ? Look at 'em ? 'Amstead, 'Ighate, 'Ackney, 'Omerton, 'Arrow, 'OUoway and 'Ornsey Punch. " Sappho was about the first woman who struck a lyre. There may have been other women as able as herself, but the lyres were scarce." Sappho could have struck a heap of them in Con­ gress assembled.--Cincinnati Saturday Night. " How had you the audacity, John," said a Scottish laird to his servant, " to go and tell some people that I was a mean fellow and no gentleman ?" " Na, na, sir," was the candid answer, "you'll no catch me at the like o' that. I have kept my thoughts to mysel'." A scientist says: " Eventually, as our globe contracts, there will be only thir­ teen days in the year." It will be jolly to have Christmas, Mardi Gras, and the Fourth of July in the same week, and be able to remind the creditors that come nosing around that the legal holidays must be respected. Upon the rink the lady rat, Beside her lay her dainty nit All crumpled; She looked the picture of diatreu, So dusty was her pretty dress, And rumpled! "I cant get up," in faltering tone She said. I thought that, perhaps, alone She would not. picked her up. She was not hurt-- 'was but the tightness of her skirt-- She oonld not! '--Punch. A New York State man labors under the hallucination that his wife is a shingle nail, and he keeps hammering at her.--Detroit Free Press. Well, what's the woman growling about ? Did she expect to preserve her shingle blessedness aft>er she yielded to the hammerous appeals of that New York State man ?--Philadelphia Bulletin. A gentleman stopping at a fruit stand and inquiring the price of some pine­ apples displayed was dissatisfied, and said so. The dealer replied that he didn't make any profit on the fruit, any­ how, keeping it merely for show. The possible pnrchaser then remarked that pineapples ~ were not very good eating, and t^e dealer answered that pineapples were nice if they were only fixed rightly --sliced thin, soaked in sugar for a few hours, seasoned with lemon and nnfcmeg, and then taken in sherry wine. The only remark of the other man as he turned on his heel and walked away was: " Why, turnips would be good that way 1" IPs a Boy. One evening, recently, the friends of a married couple in Chillicothe, deter­ mined to give them a surprise party. To this end, twelve couples of young ladies and gentlemen, with well-filled baskets, made their appearance before the house about 9 o'clock. As they came up to the door, they saw the gen­ tleman standing in the alleyway with Ms overcoat on, smoking a cigar, and the parlor was all lighted up. This struck them as rather singular, but the leader grabbed the door-knob, and they rushed hilariously in. The gas was burning brightly, and six dignified old ladies were sitting around the stove, looking as solemn as grand inquisitors. " Oh, my t where's Mattie," ahouted one exuberent young lady, sitting her basket on the piano. " She's up stairs," said the old lady, looking over her spectacles with solemn acrimonv. " Let s have her down," screamed half a dozen girls in chorus as they made a break for the hall. " Here, girls, girls, don't go up there!" and the old ladies made hasty attempts to check the proposed raid. " Why, what on earth's the matter here, anyhow ?" inquired the impatient darlings. " Well, I believe it's a boy." "Oh, let's go!" And that company of nice young men and women moved away like a soap-bubble in a hurricane, and the girls ne^vr stopped for beaux or basket, but stutl'ed their handkerchiefs in their mouths to hold their breath down till they were safe behind their own doors, and not a girl in the Fourth ward knows where Mattie lives.--St. Joseph (Mo.) Gazette. Recipes.--For an imitation of shellao varnish, gum sandarac, pale rosin, each pounds, benzine 2 gallons ; for nf. fensive breath, calicyiic acid 5 grains, ijk a drachm of glycerine and half an ounoe of water ; for cleaning silks, J cup each of ox gall, ammonia, and J pint of tepid soft water; to restore faded manuscripts, dampen witn a solution of sulphide of ammonia. - I pii 'Twi