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ili riai . A,POEM;WirH A MORAL. fThe following lines were written by David Barker f or the New York /W about twenty years ago, and art as admirable for their quaintness as for the lm pMtant lesson they convey.] , |THE^LTON^AKD THE SKUNK--A DBJEAJt. -1 met a lion in my path, (Iwas on a dreary aatamn night), Who gave me the alternative To3 ither run or fight; dare u ot turn upon the track, I dare not think to run away, J For fear the lion at my back; _ wcui;i tv.p m his prey.* 80 summoning a fearless , _ . ihough all my «onl *11 fail ot Mgn^, I said unto the forest king, ^ " I •wiii not run, but uglit."^ We fought, and as the fates decreed, I conquered ill the bloody tMJ; For soon the lion at my feet • lifeless carcass lay. A little skunk was standing by And noted what the lion spokeS And when he saw the lion die, The lion's track he took. E e us«d the lion's very speech. And stretching to his utmost height. E e gave me the alternative To either run or fight. &• I raw he was prepared to fling Vile odors from bis bushy tail,'I And knew those odors very soon i * My nostrils would assail. So summoning a humble air, Though all my soul was free Mot flight, I a*M onto the dirty brute, *' 111 ran, but will not fight." aroBAi,. As years begin to cool my blood, I'd rather all would doubt my sptmk Than for a moment undertake To battle with a skunk. , Jack WAITING FOR AS ANSWER. MJ story? my life? Oh, it has been too uneventful, too simple in its inci­ dents. I could tell you the sorrows of others, but my own--well, well! as you will. You shall hear. The wound has never healed, and if J put my hand above it, the place still throbs, even as it will beat and ache till kindly nature says to me, "Sleep, poor weary one, and rest." And then peacefully, trustingly, and with a simple hope of forgiveness, may I sleep that long sleep which they say so flippantly has no waking, but which has a waking, as every lesson which we learn in life persists in teach­ ing us. You will smile, perhaps, when I tell you that I was once what people called pretty--that this pale-lined face was once plump and rosy, these sad eyes bright, and this gray, scant hair golden - brown, long, and flowing. But why should I think you would smile ? Do I not know that you must have seen the gay young plant patting out its tender leaves in spring, growing green and lux­ uriant of foliage in summer, ripe and ruddy in autumn, and gray, bent, ajid withered in age ? And should I be pitied because I have but followed in the way of nature? Surely not. It is not for that I ask your sympathy, but for the blight that fell upon the young plant and seared and scratched it so that it seemed for months that it would die ; but it lived, as I have lived to tell you this. Do you know that wondrous feeling which comes in the early year, and that strange sense of keen delight, that elas­ ticity of spirit, when, full of youth and hope, the very tears of joyous sensibili­ ze start to the eyes as you wander amidst the trees and flowers in spring ? I re­ member how I felt, oh! so well, even though it is now fort} joars ago, and I was 20. Jack and I were engaged. It was all such a simple homely, affair. We had known one another for years--the chil­ dren of neighboring farmers. Jack--I still call him by the simple old pet name of those days--Jack had been away at a good school, and being bright and shrewd and clever he had won his way on, taking to engineering instead of his father's farm life, and now it had come to this that he had been staying at home for a month previous to going out to a .good appointment in Melbourne. That month in spring, how it passed! "We had met again and again, and in his ?honest, manly way, he had asked me to be his wife. " You know, Grace, that I have always loved you," he said; "and now I have lopes and prospects, it cannot be wrong "to ask you for your promise." We were 'walking by the river-side as he said this, and how well I can picture it all--the soft gliding water mirroring the trees on the opposite bank, the Soung, green buds just breaking from leir cases, and, above all, the soft ten­ der blue of the spring sky--the blue, he had told me, that was like my eyes. "Do you want me to promise, Jack?" I said simply, as I looked up in his faee. " No, darling; I am satisfied," he cried, as his strong arms held me to his broad breast, and that was all. No oaths could have bound me more tightly to him. I felt that I was his wife when he should come to claim me. We were late that evening, and en­ tered the house shyly, for there had been so much to talk of and plan. In a month's time Jack was to sail for Melbourne; then he was to work very hard for three yearB, and come and fetch me to be his wife. That month glided by, and the last day had come. It was, as I told you, spring-time--joyous spring-time, with the hawthorn's snowy blossoms, the apple-trees pink and the pear-trees pearly v.ith their pyramids ot flowers. Every meadow I passed was starred with golden, butter-cups, and from every spray the birds trilled or jerked fortn their merry songs of hope and love. I could not feel sad, even though I was gring to meet Jack for the last walk before he went away; but as I said, mingled with the feelings of ec­ stasy there was a strange tearfulness of eye, and my breath would come at time with a sob. He was by the stile, -waiting for me-- | the stile down by the long mead, half­ way between the two farms--and, as he took my hands in his, we neither of us spoke, but stood gazing away over woodlawn and meadow, all clad in their wondrous beauty, and listened to the birds. Now it was the soft tender coo of the stock-dove from the wood, now the jerked-out song of the linnets ; then, soft and mellows from the thick hedge­ rows floated towards us the fluty notes of the blackbird, while on high trilled away the larks, singing one against the other to their mates, sitting in the tall grass of the golden meads. We could not talk, oar hearts were too full, for Jack was to be off at daybreak the next morningr But there was no need for words. We loved each other in the simple, nature-taught way that has been since the world began, and we knew that every joyous song around tl at thrilled up«n our ears meant love, and even in our sorrow we were happy, "Only three years, darling, whispered to me, " and then " The tears rose to my eyes as I tried to answer him, but I oould not speak a word. " And you will let me find a long letter when I get there?" he said tenderly. " Yes, .Joek. I promise," I said, and then it was time to return, for the hours had glided by, how we could not tell. Jack spent the evening with us at home and then he left us hurriedly, for our farewells had been said in the wood, and it was one hearty kiss, given and taken before the old people, and then good-bye. But I saw him pass soon after day­ break and he saw me and waved his hand, for I had sat by the window all night, lest I might let him go by and I asleep. And then time glided on sadly, but pleasantly as well. Mine was a busy life, for soon my father took to his bed, ill--a bed he never left again, for he gradually sank and died, leaving my poor mother in very indifferent circum­ stances. It was a hard blow for us both, for he had been one of the kindest and truest of men, but while poor mother pined and waited, I had my hopeful days in view, and from time to time letters from dear Jack, all so true and honest and full of trust in the future that I felt as if I could not repine even when greater troubles fell upon me. For at the end of two years I was standing by the bed-side where lay poor mother, sinking fast. She had no par­ ticular ailment, but had literally pined and wasted away. The toird had lost its mate of many years, and when at last she kissed me and said "good-by," it seemed to me to be in a quiet, rest-seek­ ing spirit, and slie spoke like one looking hopefully forward to the meeting with him who had gone before. But she could think of me even then, and almost the last whispered words were: " Only eleven months, Grace, and then he will be back to fetch you." Poor mother! she would not have' passed so peacefully away if she had known that which I withheld--namely, the news that came to me from our law­ yer. For, through thefailure of the enterprise in which my father's sav­ ings had been invested, and which brought us a little income of £60 a year, I was left penni­ less--so poor in fact, that the furniture of the cottage in the little town, to which we had moved when we left the farm, had to be sold to defray the fu­ neral expenses. It was very hard to bear, and for a month I was terribly depressed ; but there was that great hopeful time, ever drawing near--the end of the three years, when Jack would come to fetch me to be his wife. It was now for the first time that I remember feeling particular about my personal appearance, and I studied my glass to see if Jack would find me look­ ing careworn and thin, and my glass told me truly--yes. But I had to be up and doing, and be­ fore another month was over, through the kindness of people whom we had known, I was placed where I could work contentedly for the bread I must earn till Ja«k should come to fetch me away. It was at a large West End dress­ maker's, and it was hard work to get used to the hurry and excitement of the place, where there were twelve girls living in the house, and as many more came every day. There were all kinds of petty pieces of tyranny to submit to at first, and I suppose some of the foolish girls were jealous of me and my looks, so much so that I found they nicknamed me " The Beauty." Poor girls! If they bad only known how little store I set by my looks they would have behaved at first as they did later on. The first thing that won them to me was when Mary Sanders was taken ill with a terrible fever, alme. Grainger was for sending her away at once, on account of her business and the infection, but the doctor who was called in, a young, im­ petuous, but very clever man, told her that it would be at her peril if she did so, for Mary Sanders' life was in danger. So the poor girl was shut up in her bed­ room witnout a soul to go near her ex­ cept a hired nurse, and after the first night this woman staid away. No one dared go near the poor girl then, so I timidly asked leave to nurse her, for I felt no fear of the infection, and it seemed so hard for her to be left there alone. I obtained leave, and went up-stairs, staying with her till she recovered; and from that day there was always a kind look for me and a kiss from every girl in the place. What was more, oddly enough, per­ haps because I was so quiet and re­ strained, first one girl and then another came to make me the confidant of her love secrets and ask my advice. I gave it, such as it was, though heart- sore myself, for Jack's letters to me had suddenly ceased. We had corresponded so regularly; but it had struck me that his last two letters had been formal and constrained; they were full of business matters too, and he had hinted at its being possible that he should not be able to keep time about the three years, in consequence of some contract. I did not think this when I first read these letters, for then I had kissed and cried over them, but when no reply came to my last, I re-read them, and the cold­ ness seethed apparent. But I waited and waited, and then news came from the country. Jack's father, a widower, had died suddenly; and I said to myself, with throbbing heart, as I longed to be at his side to try and comfort him in his affliction, " Poor Jack, he will come home now." But he did not come, neither did I get any reply to my last two letters, Another month and the three years would be up; and, as I sat over some work one spring morning by the open window, with a bunch of violets that one of the girls had brought me in a glass, the soft breeze that came floating over the chimney-pots and sooty roofs wafted to me the scent of the humble little blos­ soms, and my eyes became full of tears, for in an instant the busy work-room passed away; and I was down home by the river-side listening to dear Jack, as he asked me to be his wife. Only a month! only a month! my pulses seemed to beat; and as it hap­ pened we were all busy upon a large wedding order, and I was stitching away at the white satin skirt intended for the bride. I tried so hard to bear it, but I oould not; the rush of feelings was too great. Another month and he was to have letcliOu Xu6 to V>6 uio wife, Htid X bad nui had an answer to my last two fond and loving letters. As I said, I tried hard to bear it, but I oould not, and stifling a sob I hurried out of the workroom to reach my attic, throw myself upon my knees by the bed, &uu burying my face in my hands I sobbed as if my heart would break. For a terrible thought would come now, fight against it as I would--" Jack had grown tired of waiting, and has married another." I fought so hard with the disloyal thought, but it would come, and I was sobbing passionately, when I felt a soft arm steal round my neck, a tender cheek laid to mine, and 1 found my poor tear- dewed face drawn down upon the bosom of Mary Sanders, who had stolen out of the workroom, and come up to try and comfort me. " Pray, pray, don't fret., my darling," she whispered. " Madame 'will be so cross. Those wedding things must be in by to-night, and they want you to help try them on." I don't know how I got through that day and night, but I believe I did such duties as were expected from me me­ chanically, or as if I had been in a dream, and at night I lay wakeful and weary, with aching eyes and heart, thinking of that dreadful idea that was trying to force itself upon me. I waited till the three years had ex­ pired, and then, with what anguish of heart no words can tell, I wrote to Jack again--my fourth letter--begging him, imploring him, to answer me, if but to tell me he was weary of his promise and wished to be set free ; and then, making a superhuman effort over myself, I wait­ ed, waited, month by month, for an an­ swer, though I knew that it must be at least six months before one could come. I had given up expecting one in the interim, and I was too proud to send to his relatives--distant ones, whom I had never seen, and who had probably never heard of me. The thought had taken root now and grown to a feeling of certainty, but I waited for my an­ swer. Three months--six months--nine months passed away, and hope was dead within my heart. They said I had grown much older and more careworn. Ma­ dame said I worked too hard, and the sharp business woman became quite motherly in her attentions to me. But I would not take any change, for work was like balm to me ; it blunted my thoughts; and, knowing that I was daily growing pale and thin, I still waited. I knew the girls used to whisper to­ gether about me and think me strange, but no one knew my secret--not even Madame, who had more than once sought my confidence; and so twelve months passed away-- four years since Jack had left me. It was not to a day, but veiy nearly to the time when he had parted from me, and it was almost two years since I had heard from him. I was trying hard to grow patient and contented with my lot, for Mme. Grainger had gradually taken to me, and trusted me, making mc more and more her right hand, when o"ne glorious spring morning, as I was com­ ing out of the breakfast-r®om to go up • stairs to work, she called me into her little snuggery, where she sat as a rule and attended to her customers' letters, for she had an extensive clientele, and carried on business in a large private mansion in Welbeck street. " Grace, my dear," she said, taking me in her arms and kissing me, " it worries me to see you look so ill. Now, what do you say to a fortnight in the countrv?" A fortnight in the country! and at her busiest time, with the London season coming on. I thought of that, and then, as 1 glanced round at the flowers and inhaled their scents, the bright fields near Tem- plemore Grange floated before my dimming eyes, a feeling of suffocation came upon me, and the room seemed to swing round. I believe that for the first time in my life I should have fainted, so painful were the memories evoked by her words, when a sharp knock and ring at the door echoed through the house, following instantly upon the dull fall of a letter and the sharp click of the letter box. It was like an electric shock to me, and without a word I darted into the hall, panting with the excitement and my hand at my throat to tear away the stifling sensation. But it was a letter. I could see it through the glass in the letter-box, and I seized it with trembling hands, in­ spired, as it were, by some strange power. " Jack t dear Jack at last I" I gasped as I turned it over and saw it was a strange, blue, official-looking letter, for­ mally directed to me. Even that did not surprise me. It was from Jack, I knew, and I tore open the blue envelope. Yes, I knew it! The inner envelope was covered with Australian post-marks, and, ignorant as I might te with its contents, I was raising it to my lips to cover it with passionate kisses when I saw it was open. Then a mist came over my mental vis­ ion for a moment, but only to clear away as, half stupefied, I turned the missive over and over, held it straight for a moment, and then, with a sigh of misery and despair, I stood mute and as if turned to stone. " Grace, my child ! In mercy's name tell me " It was Madame, who passed her arm round me and looked horror-stricken at my white face and lips. The next mo­ ment I dimly remember she had caught the letter--his letter--my letter--from my hand, and read it aloud: " Mr. John Braywood, Markboro, R. County Melbourne," and then, in her excite­ ment, the great official sentence-like brand upon it, "Dead !" That was the beginning of my first and only illness, during which Madame tended me like a mother, even to giving where she died, and left me well-to-do, as you see. I have grown old since then, but I am not unhappy, great as was the trial, and it has led me into what I hope has been a useful life. And, be­ sides, why should I sorrow, knowing as I do that which came to rfie years and years after--that Jack died with my name upon his lips--died true to her he loved? and I am but waiting till we shall meet again.--Geo. Manville Fern in Cassell's Magazine. Battle-Soarret! Presidents. "The Cincinnati Commercial, com­ menting upon the statement of a con­ temporary that liov. Mayes, if elected, would be " the first President who, in battle, has had a limb fractured, or re­ ceived a bullet-hole," says : " The writer had evidently forgotten the his­ torical fact that President Monroe, when a Lieutenant in the Revolutionary army, was severely wounded by a bullet in the shoulder at the battle of Trenton. Pres­ ident Jackson had two bullet-holes in his person--not received in battle, however, but in private combat. In his duel with Dickinson, in 1806, he was shot in the left side, breaking a rib, and inflicting other injuries, from the effects of wliich he suffered for the remainder of hie life. ' It was Dickinson's bullet which killed Andrew Jackson at last/ says Parton, his biographer. In his affray with the Bentons in the city of Nashville in 1813, he was desperately wounded by a pistol shot. The weapon was loaded with two balls and a large slug. The slug tock effect in Jackson's left shoulder, shatter­ ing it horribly. One of the balls struck the thick part of his left arm, and buried itself near the bone ; the other missed. JtJefore the bleeding could be stopped two mattresses, as Mrs. Jackson used to say, were ' soaked through and through,' and the General was almost reduced to the last gasp. He could not mount his horse without assistance when he started in his campaign against the Greek Indians, and at no time during the war was he able to wear an epaulette upon the injured shoulder on occasions of ceremony, without suffering intense pain. The bullet in the arm was not extracted for twenty years, and until after he was President. "Of our other military Presidents, Washington, although frequently ex­ posed to great peril, notably at the battle of the Monongahela (Brad- dock's defeat), where his uniform was Eerforated with bullets and several orses were killed under him, escaped without wounds. Harrison was never hit. At Tippecanoe he seemed to bear a charmed life, for he was well known to the Indians, and many of the best marksmen sought especially to kill him. Colonel Owen, of his staff, who hap­ pened to be mounted on a horse belong­ ing to the General, was killed, under the belief that he was the General himself. Taylor was struck by a ball on the buckle of his sword-belt in the battle of Okechobee, during the the Florida war. It sickened him at tne stomach for a moment, but did no further harm. Pierce, who was a Brig­ adier in the Mexican war, was so seriously injured by the falling of his horse, on the day preceding the battle of Con- treras, that he fainted upon the field at the beginning of that action, and was compelled to relinquish his command. The circumstance gave rise to much un­ generous satire in the election campaign of 1852. We remember that some Democratic editor, in describing the battle, spoke of it as a "sharp conflict." The editor of the Louisville Journal admitted that fact, as Pierce fainted at the edge of it. Grant was never wounded. He had a horse killed under him at Belmont. The fclreat American Family. The ad mission of Colorado makes the twenty-fifth new State added to the Union since the War of National Inde­ pendence^ The original family, who united July 4. 1776, to form a nation of one people, were: No. Free States. |A'o. Slave States. 1. New Hampshire. | 8. Delaware. 2. Massachusetts. I 9. Maryland. 3. Khode Island. j 10. Virginia. 4.. Connecticut. ill. North Carolina. 5. New York. |l2. South Carolina. 6. New Jersey. 13. Georgia. 7. Pennsylvania. ' The following States have been ad­ mitted in the years set opposite each name: Wo. Admitted. 14. Vermont (from Hew York).. 1791 lfl. Kentucky (From Virginia) 1792 Tennessee (from North Carolina) 1796 Ohio (from Nortnwestern Territory) 1802 Louisiana (bought from France 1803) 1812 Indiana (from Northwestern Territory) 1816 Mississippi (from Georgia) 1817 Illinois (from Northwestern Territory.... 1818 Alabama (from Georgia) 1819 Maine (from Massachusetts) 1820 Missouri (from the Louisiana purchase).... 1821 ; LouBiana purchase).... 1836 Arkansas (from the Michigan (from Northwestern Territory) . .1837 Florida (ceded by Spain, 1820)admitted.... 1848 Texas (from Mexico) annexed 1845 Iowa from the Louisiana purchase) 1843 Wisconsin (from Northwestern Territory) .1848 Calllornia (conquered from Mexico) 1850 Minnesota (half from Northwestern Terri­ tory, half from Louisiana purchase) 1857 33. Oregon (from England by treaty) 1859 34. Kansas (from Louisiana purchase of 1803). 1861 35. West Virginia (from Virginia) 1803 36. Nevada (conquered from Mexico) 1864 37. Nebraska (from Louisiana purchase of 1803) 1867 38. Colorado (partly from Lousiana purchase and conquered from Mexico) .1876 Territories remaining to be organised into States; 1. New Mexico, organized 1850 2. Utah, organized .....1850 3. Washington, organized 1853 f. Dakota, organized 1861 5. Arizona, organized '. 1863 6. Idaho, organized 1863 7' Montana, organized 1864 8. Wyoming, organized , 1868 9. Alaska, organized e868 District of Columbia, seat of government... .1790-1 Worse than Savages. [Constantinople Cor. New York Tribune.] A Polish gentleman has arrived here from Bulgaria, who was himself in the Polish insurrection, but has long been in the service of the Turkish Govern­ ment. lie says that all the barbarities of Russia in Poland were as nothing in comparison with what he has seen with his own eyes this month. His own Turkish guard cut down every man, woman and child they met on the road, spite of all he could do. . If the Turks would content themselves with simply killing their victims, it would be some­ thing ; but this is not all ; they inflict the most horrible tortures upon these poor defenseless people--burn them alive, cut them in pieces, mutilate them in every way possible. There is no excuse for these barbarities in Bulgaria, such as has been offered in Bosnia and A CURIOUS OLD TOWN. Interesting Historical Localities In an Ancient Place on the Mississippi KlTer. [St. Louis Cor. Cincinnati Enquirer.] The old French town of St. Louis, which was laid out more than 100 years ago, was eleven squares long and four squares--and precious short ones at that--wide. It extended from what is known now as Biddle street to Poplar, and from the river bank to Fourth street, npjjig jjo condition in the earlier davn when it was yet a French town and paid its tribute to the French crown. In the year 1807 it was ceded to the United States under the consulate of Napoleon I., and was at that time a growing young city of 13,000 inhabitants. There is a building here which stands at the foot of Christy avenue and in the shadow of Eads' bridge of the nineteenth century, which was built in the year 1715 by Regis Loysel, who came down from Canada in the year 1714 to buy furs. He built it for a warehouse, and built it strong, with thick, stone walls, small windows, and a long sweep of roof. After 161 years of tolerably active ser­ vice it still stands pretty firm on its pins and invites the public patronage with its sign, "The Live and Let Live Saloon--Lodging, Wine and Liquors, Boarding-house, Tobacco and Cigars, Liquor five and ten cents a drink 1" In England they would have fenced in such an historic building, and charged four pence admission to see it; in Boston they would have torn it down to make way for a new street; here they put a low grade gin-mill into it and give everybody a chance, and our republi­ can institutions are thereby glorified. Down at the foot of Chestnut street stands another monument of the early history of the city. It is the old ware­ house of Cyprian Chouteau, and was built in the year 1746, the walls being of stone cemented to the bed-rock which underlies the city. A sidewalk sixteen inches wide runs along the entire length of the building, and Chestnut street at this point is only a little more than twelve feet wide. This building, crowded, as it must be, with historic memories, is now occupied by the I' Louisiana Exchange," and offers an inducement to the wayfaring men in the way of "five cent beer and pretzels." When he built this structure, Chouteau had already followed the windings of the Missouri river a distance of 800 miles northwest of here, and had estab­ lished his fur-trading agencies in what is now Dakota Territory, not far from the region of the Black Hills. Still further down the landing, and opposite where the steamer Grand Republic lies moored, is the building of Sila-Brent, an English trader who came here in 1770 and, like the others, went into the fur tfade with the Indians. This building shows the characteristics of English architecture in its broader doors and windows, its higher ceilings, and its old- fashioned high roof, protected with fire walls. More substantial, it is less orna­ mental than its neighbors, and shows the plain but steady habits of the na­ tionality to which Mr. Brent belonged There are half a dozen other old land­ marks which are pointed out to the stranger wh > wants to contrast St. Louis ancient with St. Louis modern, but they do not materially differ from those al­ ready spoken of. When you are standing on the landing in front of Cyprian Chouteau's venerable pile, dedicated to Mammon 130 years ago, and looking across the long lines of steamboats which he moored at the wharf, you catch an occasional glimpse of the green trees on the opposite side of the river. If your curiosity leads you to step down to the deck of one of the boats you will see an island off to the left, a little beyond midway of the stream. That is Bloody Island, another place that bears historic interest. There one morning in February, 1824, Thomas H. Benton, after pacing on the bank for half an hour, holding a piece of ice on his pulse to steady his hand while he waited for Lucas, his opponent, took his place marked off by the seconds and shot that opponent dead in his tracks. There, too, the famous duel between Spencer Pettis and James Biddle oc­ curred, the most horrible that ever oc- currcd in this country. Pettis, in the year 1837 or '38, was a candidate for Congress. It was about the time that the old United States Bank went under, and, in the course of his canvass, Pettis had charged that Nick Biddle had stolen money belonging to that institu­ tion. James Biddle, a brother of Nick, was living here at that time, and for ihe utterance of that charge he challenged its author. Pettis took no notice of the challenge, though, and after being elect­ ed went on to Congress and served out his term. At the end of that time he came back and announced that he would not be a candidate for re-election. Then he published a card in the papers saying that he was no longer the representa­ tive of the people, but was now his own master, and this being the case he ac cepted Biddle's challenge. Being the challenged party he named the place of meeting, the distance, and weapons, The place was Bloody Island, the weap ons horse-pistols and the distance three feet. With their seconds they repaired thither one bright morning in May, and standing face to face, and separated by a handkerchief between them to mark the distance, they both fired, each one killing the other instantly. These and a half-dozen other such stories connected with its history give Bloody Island its name, and show the character of publio sentiment that used to prevail here even after St. Louis ceased to owe allegiance to the French crown and become a factor in our Amer ican system. to ̂ Pith and Point. A COMMON mull-tipple--Spiced rum* THE Boston Base Ball Club are fed on fish balls and batter pudding. Now is the time for the old joke about the West Point boys finding the heat in­ tents. > NEW YORK is to have an elite directory. Some ladies 'leat their heads off to get into it. ̂ dresses are oovered with but- tOuS this seaaou, while mauy a mat! has to use a pin for the lack of one on shirt. FARMERS are 00M TRAINING that a spe­ cies of grub is eating up their corn. This is a clear case of grub eat grab.--Chicar go Tribune. ' 'MID sylvan soenea And kidney beans The farmer sweats around; In home-made clothes And a sun-burned nose He spends his days In trying to raise The mortgage that covers his ground. . An editor, quoting Dr. Hall's remedy " eat regularly, not over three times a day, and nothing between meals," adds : " Tramps will do well to out this out and put it in their bank books." " MARX," said a mother to her little girl, "if I was a little girl Like you, I should pick up all those chips." " Well, mamma," answered Mary, "ain't you glad you are not a little girl ?" A YANKEE, describing an opponent* whose person was extremely thin, says : " I will tell you what, sir--that man don't amount to a sum in arithmetic; cast him up and there's nothing to carry." A WICKED Wyoming lawyer holds up his right hand and swears that, whereas a female juror may not always yield to the bribe of a stick of gum, the promise of a new-fashioned bonnet will influence her verdict every time. " THERE'S such a rude gentleman din­ ing up' stairs to-day. Missus was Br talking about the Akkademy, and if he didn't tell her as he could see she paint­ ed, and so she do every night; but ha needn't a said so afore people." THE man who is hardest to find is the one who has an "office," particularly if he has " office hours." Whenever a man wishes to conceal himself from the world he rents an office, hang out a sign stat­ ing his office hours, and then stays away forever. A NEGRO preacher, in translating to his shearer the sentence, " The harvest is over, the season is ended, and thy soul is not saved," put it, " De corn has been cribbed, dare ain't any more work, and de debbil is still foolin' wid dis community." " Wi go to press at 2 instead of 4 to­ day," said a Tennessee paper, " in order to attend to some business of importance in the country." At precisely five min­ utes before 4, two high-toned looking men with shotguns called, and wanted to know where the editor was.--N. Y. Com. Adv. A CLERGYMAN, observing a poor man by the roadside, breaking stones, and kneeling, to get at his work better, made the remark : "Ah, John, I wish I could break the stony hearts of my hearers as easily as you are breaking these stones." " Perhaps, m § ter, you do not work on your knees," was the reply. A PRAYER MEETING was held in James Foster's cell, Warrenton, Mo., on the night before he was hanged. " Are you ready to die ?" asked a clergyman, at the conclusion of the exercises. " Guess I'll have to be ready in the morning, anyhow," he said, and winked at a by­ stander. ON board the Cunard steamers the church service is read every Sunday morning. The muster-roll of the crew is called over, and they attend service. A gentleman one day said to one of the sailors, "Are you obliged to attend pub­ lic worship?" "Not exactly obliged, sir," replied Jack; " we should lose our grog if we didn't. A WEST SIDE man who saw a load of coal at a house and arranged to go over and borrow part of it after the other man was in bed, got around that night and found that it had all been put in the cel­ lar and carefully locked up before night­ fall. He remarked the next day that it was shocking to think how little trust­ fulness people seemed to have in human nature.--Norwich (Conn.) Bulletin. LADY customer--"Have you a nice book, all covered with red leather, with gold letters on the back ?" Shopkeeper --" Yes, madam ; we have De Quincey's works, three volumes, in Russia ; or Gen. Sherman's ' Memoirs,' two volumes, in calf." Lady customer--"I don't want anything about Russia. Give me the book about the dear little calves ; be­ sides, it was by a General." PROCESSOR (after waitiiig some time for an answer to a question which he had just asked Mr. H.)--" Why, don't you see what I mean ?" Mr. H.--"Yes, sir-, it's--a--it's--ah--" Professor--" What I wish to get at is, that if an imponder­ able string is stretched by an infinite number of equal weights applied equal distances from each other, the funicular polygon becomes a parabola." Mr. H. (enthusiastically,--"Yes, sir;yes sir; you get my idea." Herzegovina. There is no evidence o that even the armed Bulgarian insur- up her business afterwards, and retiring I gents have committed any similar out- to live with me here in this quiet street. I rages against the Turks. PRIOR to 1817, tnere had been three Congregational churches built in Lyme, Conn., and they were all struck by light­ ning and burned down. Then the church now standing in the center was built, and the bill for liquor drank during the work was over $500. At that time everv one was taxed to support the gospel, and, if he did not pay, his property was seized and sold at the post. A FRONTIERSMAN was requested by the Sheriff to come to the jail to identify an inmate who was charged With a serious offense. "I'll go and look at him, but I'm not going to be familiar with him until he apologizes for shooting my brother-in-law last fall," was the naive reply of the guileless child of the flower- bespangled prairies. -- San Antonio (Tex.) Herald. VIRGINIA CITY is proud of its athletes. Regnier, the French wrestler, went there, made a match for $500, and was easily thrown by a miner. Fred Bus- sey, a prize-fighter from Chicago, was whipped twice in bar-rooms while talk­ ing about a regular fight in a ring. John Paddock, a Boston pedestrian, was readily beaten in a walk of a hundred miles. The Chronicle says, also, that men should not come there expecting to win anything at poker. SEX<KIRK'S Island, with the adjoining Santa Clara and Mass Fuera, are rented by the Chilian Government to a specula­ tor from Valparaiso, who uses tnem for stock raising and sealing. Large quan­ tities of fur seals are taken on the islands every season. The soil is extremely fer- > tile, quinces and peaches growVild, and the higher parts of the islands are covered thickly with very valuable timber. THE French Chambers of Commerce are planning for a grand canal between Havre and Marseilles. One of the plans is for a ship canal ten feet deep, 100 feet wide, across the Isthmus of dhiienne and Languedoc, shortening the sea ronte by 800 miles. %