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TMI C1BOMC GHOWLKB. B»grftWteaba«tt>i8 boarding plaost U» trOWin a boat his b.xl ; Rl growl* nbout 'most e*erythins§i§;3 Want* something clao (intend. • - H« (.mwls about hia Iftundryman, J ; Ho growls nbout Ui tailor; i « growl* about the fit of things Like Jock Tar board a whaler. R« growlK about th« daily news, He ifrowls because it's new; Ha prowls about an article Tliat docsu't suit his view. He growls about hia daily work, He growls because It's labor; Ha growls because lie's uot botn (CM^ As was his next door neighbor. He growls bocnuse he hn« no wife; He growlK about the ladies; He growls about the style they weal'-- Consigns them all to Hades. He prowls when he to theater Be growls about the seats; > He growls about the jilny ifgpa : To every one ho meets. ;r " He prowls about a legacy. Ho growls because 'tis small; He crowls as if it wn his right That he should get it all. M- ' "s5 A 4- ' He growls about tlie Holy Writ, He growls because he can; He growls because he's bound to gNNHt He's such a. cranky num. < THE SECRET WEDDING, BY KATE GARDNER. r v On the evening of a dark and lowery day . In late autumn, a close carriage was driven '*o the door of an inn in a manufacturing town of Derbyshire, from which alighted a female closely cloaked and veiled. She seemed to know that the landlord was a Innd-hearted man, and one to be trusted. She called him aside, and said, without raising her veil, but in a voice of rare "sweetness, and evidently that of a young person, "I must trust yon, good sir, with more, perhaps, than life. X wish you to . nerve me without asking a question: lean *" give you my word, in the outset, that no , harm can couie to you on my account in anyway. I must be married. I must bo fa wife within this hour; and you must find me a husband. I only ask that yon will find a man who can legally take a wife; a man not a rascal; a man who will take three hundred pounds aud give his solemn pledge j,never to seek me, nor to speak to me after the final word of the marriage ceremony shall have been pronounced. If yon can find such a man, and bring him hither, and then bring a willing clergyman, yon will do me a great favor." "But the license, madam?" "I am provided. I have a special license, wanting only the name of the bridegroom." It took the host some little time to make up his mind that the lady was in earnest, and that all else was right so far as the law was concerned. When he was satisfied upontheBe points he nodded and pleasantly wmited. Just the man required was in his employ. He went out into the stables, where he fonnd Mark Conroy at work over a favorite Jiorse. Mark was a splendid specimen or physical and mental manhood. Nearly six feet tall, perfectly proportioned, with features regular and handsome, an eye like a well of light, and a clustering mass of nut-brown curls setting off his shapely jhead, he was a man such as might win the love and esteem of any woman; and the <only reason why he had not married or leourted any one of the many damsels who Jsought to attract him was that his love for |his beautiful horses engrossed his whole Iheart. IS ear at hand lived an accommodating rector. He came in, fully understanding the work he was to do, and alter a few whispered words with the lady, he signified his readiness to proceed. The name of Mark Conroy was filled into the license, after which the work was quickly done. "Must I sign the register?" the newly- ' made wife asked, uneasily. The clergyman insisted upon it. The law required it. Mack signed his naiae in a bold, strong, round hand. Then the lady took the pen, land tremblingly wrote a name, saying, ["That is not the name by which I am •known, but I have a sacred right to it." She had written "Cordelia Temple." i She gave to the rector five pounds--to the host five more; aud then she counted "Jout six cri&p, new fifty-pound notes to her husband. Mark took them, and put them into his pocket, and then he drew from his puree a half-sovereign of gold, and laying * it upon the post of the big oaken chair, he placed the edge of his pocket-knife upon it, and with a single blow of a billet of wood he cut it into two equal parts, one of which he handed to his wife. "Lady," he said, "I need not tell you that this, to me, is, and must l>e while I live, a serious matter. Do not tremble. You have my word! But will you not take this bit of gold, and keep it in remembrunce of the man whose name you can wear when you will, and who must henceforttfbe true to you?" She took the piece of gold and turned away, as though to hide an, emotion which : she did not care to be seen. One step, and Mark Conroy was by her side. He took, her hand, and raised it to his lips. "I do this revefently," he-said. almost in a whisper* "And now, lady," he added, lifting his head proudly, and stepping back, "know that I shall be true to the vows : this night taken upon myself. If, in the , time to come, Mark Conroy can in any , way serve you. you may command him without fear. He will never intrude, and he will never take advantage of any service lie may happily render. Adieu! May God ^ , and the good angels watch over you, and 7 bless you ever!" " And with this he turned away, and was gone. The lady could not have spoken if V- she would. i; "I suppose," said the landlord, as the J lady wa-i ready to dfpaxt, "that yop want this kept a secret?" . 5 "No!" she cried, vehemently. "If men ' i should trace me to this place, tell them ex- actly what you have seen; but for his sake --my--my--husband#--do not give his ] j: name. Will you promise this?" T . The good Boniface promised, and very ; shortly afterwards the lady's carriage waB . whirling rapidly away in the gloom towards ' Cheshire. * 7"? The clock in the tower of the old stone church was striking the hour of nine as the strange woman drove away from the Derby­ shire inn. Two hours later--as the same bell-hammer was pealing forth the eleventh hour--another carriage was driven rapidly up. from which alight >d two gentlemen-- one an elderly man, with a hard, hawk-like K face, and the other younger, and evidently a debauchee. Their quarry had escaped. Mark Conroy from that night became a new man. He borrowed books, and read and studied, and went at French and Ger­ man. He had told the landlord that the three hundred pounds might be the making ^ of him; nor did he mistake. The owner of r a place near to Derby--a raiser of thorough­ bred stock--was glad to sell him a half interest, and in a very few years the horses ' ~ from the stab'es of Modkton and Conroy * gtood at the head of the list in England. The Earl of Bentley let his favorite filly go to pay a betting debt, and Mark bought the animal for twenty guineas. Four years later tnat filly became celebrated, and Mark sold her for ten thousand pounds, aud she •Won the money back in one season. Hiis was but one circumstance- of many. ' Mark Conroy had one great aiui of life, and in that direction he bent every energy. At the age of two-and-thirty he sold out all interest in his Derby property, and his fands in the hands of his bankers amouuted > to more than eighty thousand pounds. He had not made one mistake in all his ven­ tures, and foitune had literally smiled * upon him. And through it all--by day •when business seemed to entirely engross , him, and by night, in the still, thougntful watches, oue iulluence was never absent-- the music of that sweet voice he had heard !' in the old Derbyshire inn. Eight years had elapsed, and he had grown from four-nnd-twenty to two-and thirty, when he took a notion to make i -tow of the Continent* H*W«i# Paris first, and thence into Germany; from city to city, seeking a pleasure he did not readily find, until at length ho found him­ self in the quaint old walled city of Ulm, on the Danube. He was standing in the quaintly-con­ structed hall of a quaintly-constructed inn, with innumerable nooks and corners and dim recesses, when he was attracted by the sound of a familiar voice. It was the voice of th ? Earl of BentleV, whom he recog­ nized as one of the pursuers of his wife, and he was talking with his valet, a dark- visaged, powerful rascal, evidently en- Sged because of bis physical strength and ring. "She trill be alone in her chamber an hour after dark," said the voico of the Earl, "i hare bought up her maul. My boat is at the old landing. I must not be seen here. Will you CQrry the lady to that boat?" The valet said he would do it. He knew how to accomplish the task. He would bear the lndv to the boat, and she should make no outcry! "Once she is in my power," went on the Earl, "all else is simple. We will prow her professed marriage all « sham, and she shall marry with me, or " The rest of the sentence was lost. . Conroy'8 heart beat hard and fast. He knew very well who was the liuly al­ luded to. He inquired of the laudlord, however, and was informed that the occu­ pant of the suite he had designated was an English Kuly, who h ul been with him sev­ eral weeks--Lady Isabel Cordelia, of Tem- pleton. She was a beautiful woman, but evidently uuhappy. Mark Conroy found the suite" "of apart­ ments, and did not lose sight of the en­ trance. About an hour after dark he saw the maid come out. and saw her speak with a man who was hiding in a recess. Pres­ ently after thai this man was joined by another, whom he had called by a low whistle, and the two entered the chamber from which the maid had come. A few moments, during which the watcher's heart beat furiously, and then came the sound of a smothered cry. f With a bound, Conroy was in the cham­ ber. wht r > he saw a lady struggling in the grasp of two men. Wi;h a blow of his fist that might have felled an ox, he sent the valet to the floor; then with a backward sweep he knocked the other against the wall; and then, winding his left arni around the lady, he held her in safety, while with his right he drew a pistol and leveled it. "Perdition!"exclaimedthe valet, when he had,picked himself up, and looked upon the man who had knocked him down, "it's the horse-tamer, Conroy!" "And you'll find him something more than that if you do not take yourself out of this. Go tell your master that Mark Con- roy knows all, and that if he is in Ulm to­ morrow morning he may suffer for it!" The two men slunk away, and then Con­ roy led the lady to a seat, and would have let her go, but she clung to him. He was able to speak with comparative calmness because he had carefully prepared himself for the meeting. "Lady, I have not forgotten my promise. I have watched over you when you knew it not. Yon may command me, even yet." She looked up into his face, still cling­ ing to his strong arm, and a variety of emo­ tions were shadowed upon her surpassingly beautiful face. 9 "You are Mark Conroy?" "Iam." "Do you know who I am:? "I do." "Do you know that you ever saw me be­ fore?" "I cannot say that I fcTtow, but my heart tells me that it is 6o,--it tells me that you have the mate to this." And he drew from his bosom, where it had hung suspended from a silken cord about his neck, a tiny bag of chamois-skin, from which he took a semi-disk of gold. A moment she stood irresolute, and then, while a rich glow suffused her,cheeks, mounting to her temples and brow, and im­ parting to the lustrous eyes a living light, she drew from her own bosom, where it had been kept in a velvet pouch, the other half of the golden half-sovereign. Conroy could contain his great heart no longer. Grasping both the lady's hands, and looking earnestly and frankly into her face, he said, "Lady, from that hour of the other years--that hour in the old Derby­ shire inn--I have kept the faith then pledged. Your voice betrayed to me a pure and worthy woman, and I have held the sweet remembrance in love and true devo­ tion. I dare not, knowing who and what you are, ask you tojshare my lot; but oh, if you ' She put out her hand and stopped him. "Mark Conroy, from that same hour I have not lost sight of you. I know how you have lived--how you have thrived and prospered " "But," he cried, interrupting her, you do not know that the one thought of yourself has been the blessed spirit of my uprising." "But--lluire hoped it" she said. "You--have--hoped?" w0h, mv husband! if yon can claim me for your wife, and love me always, I will be happy!" And so, after the years of waiting, Mark Conroy found his reward; and he was not ?louder nor more happy than was the Lady Babel Cordelia, heiress of the vast estates of the Earl of Tempieton. A distant cousin inherited the title, but the wealth was hers. Lord Bentley, when he learned the truth, not only gave up his striving and his per­ secution, Dut he descended to beg that the story of his fruitless endeavors might not be told in England. But in England Mark Conroy and his wife lived no more. They found a pleas­ ant er home on the Rhine, where were coun­ trymen enough to make it homelike, and where they were estimated in society for the grandgqualities of head and heart that endeared them to all with whom they came in social contact. Fighting a Prairie Fire; article in Outing, Captain In an Bourke says: "The command was threat­ ened l»y a great prairie fire on coming down into the broad grassy valley of the Janos. Under tlie impetus of a tierce wind the flames were rushing upon the camp. There was not a mo­ ment to be lost. All hands turned ont --soldiers, squaws, Chiricahu warriors, and even children. Each bore a branch of willow or cotton wood, a blanket, or scrap of canvas The conflagration had already seized the hill-crest nearest our position, brownish and gray clouds poured skyward in compact masses, at their feet a long line of scarlet flame flashed and leaped high in the air. "It was a grand,' a tumble sight; in front was smiling nature, behind, ruin land desolation. The heat created a vacuum, and the air, pouring in, made whirlwinds, which sent the black fun­ nels of steam winding and twisting with the symmetry of hour-glasses, almost to the zenith. For one moment the line of fire paused, as if to rest after gaining the hilltop; it was only a moment. 'Here he comes!' yelled the men on the left, and like a wild beast, flinging high its tawny mane of cloud and flash­ ing its fangs of flame, the fire was upon round and about us. "Our people stood bravely up to their work, and the swish! swish! of the wil low brooms proved that camp was not to be surrendered without a strugle. vCfiisipn the day; that is, we saved the camp, herds and a small area of pastur­ age * but over a vast surface of territory the ruthless flames swept, mantling the land with soot and an opaque pall of mist and smoke through which the sun's rays could not penetrate. Sev eral horses and mules were l^jily burned, but none to death." THE only English sentences the feii- nese Minister can use are "How do;you do," "Good-by," and "Oliampagng is good." H - •:» ; U..-W i. I O BILLY THE NUTS. An Irishman Who W&» Easily gatliill. . There was a fellow in Ireland once. He was nicknamed "Billy the Nuts," and the boys on the streets of Dublin, had impressed him with the belief that he was a great orator. He had the faculty of being very quick in repartee, as may be proved by the following story of him: He was loitering in Dame street, Dublin, when a burly policeman cried, "Here! here! Git out of the pathway." Billy'dropped a basket he was carry­ ing on the sidewalk and jumped into it, saying: * "Oi'd like to see any peeler in Oire- land take a man out iv his own shop." On another occasion he wan brought before Judge Porter. The offense charged against him was drunkenness. "I see you are here again," said the Judge. "Oi'm sorry yer sight sarves you in this case, yer Honor," was the reply. . "Where do you live?" said the Judge. "Number three arch, Carlisle Bridge," said Billy, raising his voice. "When the tide is in Oi'm out, and if it is in while Oi'm asleep Oi'm washed." The Judge said: "Forty-eight hours." • "Well, that seems a comfort," said Billy; "the jail is dhry." The times became hard for Billy, and he felt that Dublin was no longer a place for him to waste his time in, so he resolved to leave Ireland and come to the United States, hearing that orators were scarce here, and take the reins of government in his hands. He took passage from Cork, crossed the channel to Liverpool, and then took passage on board of an American bark. The wind blew fairly off the land. Billy, full of hope, looked alternately to the shores he was leaving and toward the land of promise beyond the sea. It is proverbial with sailors to find fault with the ship, and to praise the last ship they were in. Billy heard a burly fellow who was standing in the fok'Ble say, as he looked at the main-top, "She's about five points off. This old lugger will never reach her port." Billy became alarmed and his soul was filled with one loud prayer as he murmured to himself: "I hope that fellow's a liar, if iver there was a liar out iv Oireland." Night fell. A squall came up and threw the vessel over on her beam ends. Billy was below at the time, and made a frantic rush for the companion-way, struggled to the main deck, and rushing forward seized the weather rail. Moving cautiously along he reached the quarter-deck where the captain stood. Taking the captain by'the shoulder he roared, loud enough to be heard distinctly amid the noise of the elements: "Did I pay four pounds ten to come here to be slaughtered?" - The captain, though slightly alarmed, could not refrain from smiling as he said: "The ship is old and full of seams, and if this continues I would not give much for all our chances." ~ "Thin, be jabers, this is no place for me," said Billy, and he sprang over the stern of the ship into the ocean. "Where are you going?" roared out the captain. "Oh, oh!" said Billy; "sure there is more room here and less danger. There's nothing in that rotten ould ship can fall on me now." Now, the rest of this story is told by the fairies in Ireland. The Goddess of Liberty flies round the confines about once a month, and she happened to be sitting on a cloud at the time the foregoing occurred, and looked down on poor Billy, whose nose was pointing toward Columbia. He had only about 2,5(X) miles to swim, but, being an Irishman, that was a trifle to him. She murmured: "With all his faults, he is brave and patient. I have triad his kind on many a hard-fouglit field, and never found them wanting, and I'll^ give him another chance." She swept down to where he was mounting the crest of a wave and whis­ pered: "On one condition, I will give you another chance." Billy looked up, and when he saw the beautiful face: "Arrah, me purty col­ leen," he cried; "save me first and min- tion the condition afther." She said: "All I expect of you is, if I allow you to land in New York, that you will not aspire to my Presidential chair." "Oi'm yours,"shouted Billy, "without another word. Sure the Governorship of a State is good enough for me." She saved him, and he is here. Look out for him.--J. C. Roach, in New York Telegram. Great Fire of London. Meanwhile the fire continued; and on Monday night and Tuesday it raged with increasing violence. The very heart of the city was now eaten into by this insatiable monster--Soper Lane, Bread Street,Friday Street,Old Change, and Cheapside being in one blaze. It was indeed a spectacle to fill all who beheld it with consternation; and that which followed was yet more terrible, for already St. Paul's Cathedral was doomed to destruction. Threatened on one side by the flames which devastated Cheapside, and on the other from those creeping steadily up from Blackfriars to this great center, it was now impossible to save the vener­ able church, which Evelyn terms "one of the most ancient pieces of early Christian piety in the world." Seen by the fierce light and overhung by a crimson sky, every curve of its dark outline, every stone of its pillars and abutments, every column of its incomparable portico, stood clearly defined, so that never had it looked so stately and magnificent, so vast and majestic, as now, when beheld for the last time. Too speedily thet fire advanced, watched by sorrowful eyes; but even before it had reached the scaffolding which now surrounded the building, the vaulted roof, ignited by showers of sparks, had burst into flames. Then followed a scene unspeakably grand, yet melancholy beyond all telling. In a few moments a pale yellow light had crept along the parapets, sending faint clouds of smoke upwards, as if more forcibly marking the course of destruc tion. Then came the crackling, hissing sound of timber yielding to the fire, and soon a great sheet of lead which covered the roof, and was said to meas­ ure six acres, melting by degrees, down came on every side a terrible rain of liquid fire that seamed and burned the ground, and carried destruction with it in its swift course toward the Thames. And now, by reason of the fearful heat, great projections of Portland stone, cornices, and capitals of column flew off before the fire had time to reach them. Windows melted in their frames pillars fell to the ground, ironwork bent as wax; nay, the very pavements around glowed so that neither man nor horse dared tread upon th;-m. And the 'flumes, gradually gaining ground.danced fantastically up and down the scaffold­ ing, and covered the edifice as with one blaze; whilst inside transom beams were snapped asunder, rafters fell with destruction, and tlie fire roaring through chapels and aisles as though in a great furnace, could be heard afar. And that which had l>een a Christian shrine was now a smoking ruin. Raging onwards in their career, the flames darted towards such buildings in the neighborhood as had been pre­ viously untouched, so that Paternoster Row, Newgate Street, the Old Bailey, and Ludgate Hill were soon in course of destruction. And from the latter spot the conflagration, urged by the wind, rapidly rushed onward towards Fleet Street. On the other hand, it extended from Cheapside to Ironmongers' Lane, Old Jewry, Lawrence Lane, Milk Street, Wood Street, Gutter Lane and Foster Lane; and again spreading from Newgate Street, it surrounded and de­ stroyed Christ Church, burned through St. Martin's le Grand towards Aldgate, and threatened to continue its triumph­ ant march to the suburbs.--Anon. Wagner as a Boy. Wilhelm Richard Wagner bom at Leipzig, March 22, 1813. ^ • When he was 9 he went to school, where he was the despair of the teacher who instructed him in music; he paid no attention to practicing, but seized every opportunity of repeating the melodies that he had heard, especially those of "Der Freischutz," which had already kindled his powerful imagina­ tion. Ancient history, mythology, Greek, and Latin were his favorite stu­ dies, but his heart was really in none of these, for he had a secret aim which ab­ sorbed all his thoughts and feelings--• he was a poet! In his eleventh year, he won a prize for the best poem on a dead schoolmate, and soon after this he translated the first twelve books of the Odyssey. He taught himself En­ glish, and immediately became so ab­ sorbed in Shakespeare that he decided to write a tragedy.. For two long years he toiled, and during this period he con­ trived to kill off forty-two people in his drama. He was forced to relent, how­ ever, and to recall them as ghosts, in the last act in order to have perform­ ers enough to play the parts. Mean­ time he had left Dresden, where lie had been living, and entered a school at Leipzig, but he had so neglected his studies for musical composition, that he was put back a| class; this so discour­ aged him that he gave himself entirely to his tragedy. When he had nearly finished it. he first heard Beethoven's music. This had so strong an influence over him that he determined to set his tragedy to music, and purchased a book on thorough-bass to prepare himself for the task. So fascinated did he become with the study, that he determined to be a poet no longer, but that music should have the devotion of his life. When his family learned of his tragedy, they were much troubled, for they felt it was the cause of his backwardness t.t school; but when they found him to be writing music they were in despair, for they beleived it to be nothing more than a fancy, and that it might do the boy great harm. He was not to be dis­ couraged, however, and composed in secret. But at last he was placed un­ der the instruction of Theodore Wein- lig, a man steeped in the spirit of Father Bach," who put him through a six months' study of counterpoint. Now he learned and loved Mozart.--Agatha Tunia, in St. Nicholas. Sleeping Face Downward. Hunters, scouts, children and wild men sleep with their spine upward. , So do animals, all but civilized men. If a dog, a cow, a cat, or a horse were forced to lie upon its back it would die. Among the Arabian jugglers and show people that have been brought to this country it has been noticed that they always turn over upon their breasts ^hen they go to sleep, and lie that way till they wake. It seems to be the natural way. It pfotects the vital or­ gans in case of a shot from an enemy. The spine and the great amount of nerve tissue that starts from it are the most sensitive parts of the body. Lying with the great weight of the stomach, heart, intestines, and other organs pressed upon these nerves it seems must in time work injury. Even the half weight, as when a person lies upon his side, must have its bad effects, it is said. The spine and nerves are also abnormally heated by the common way of resting. Keep the spine and spinal nerves cool, say the advocates of the cow's and the wild man's way of sleep­ ing. There are such advocates, among them able physicians. They affirm that turning upon the breast to sleep will relieve backache. Also, it will leave the nerve stimulant free to flow vigor­ ously from its centers, and in that way will remedy indigestion and take away the bad taste in the mouth. Men will be surprised to find how difficult it is to lie with face downwards, after years of reposing in the other atti­ tude. One cannot do so comfortably ten minutes at first, but practice will overcome the difficulty. The natural method, so called, of sleeping, has many able advocates recently. It Wasn't Polite. The small boy who teaches theology to the historian was very bad indeed at the table the other day, so naughty, in faot, that his sister said to him seri­ ously : "You seem to get worse every day. Are vou ever going to be any better?" To-morrow," asserted the small boy, with engaging certainty; "I'm going to pray to God to-night when I go to bed to please make me good, and then I'll get up early in the morning and be good all day." You'd better pray now, and begin right off. God can hear you now just as well as at bedtime." Oh, maybe he can hear me now, but I ain't going to pray now. Tain't polite to God to pray except at bedtime."-- Boston Record. Didn't Care far Apples. "If I had been in Adam's placev In the Garden of Eden I don't think there would have been any fall," said one of the parties in an animated discussion on theology. "And why not, I should like to know ?" inq uired the other. • "Well, I never would have lost my place for a green apple anyhow, I, can tell you that." "How do you know you wouldn't?" "Because I never did care a snap for apples, anyway,"-- Chicago Ledger. THE Rev. Dr. Barrows gave some idea of the magnitude of this country in a statement recently made by him. He said that if the entire population of the globe, estimated at 1,400,000,000, were divided into families of five, the State of Texas alone could give each family half an acre of land to live upon. . MANY an ass believes that his tickle the feet of angels^ v Southern Oom-Ckewcn odDtppan. At the high bridge overlhe Kentucky River the train on which I was Rugby- ward bound was boarded by a party of gay young people, a bevy of girls, and their attendant admirers came to see them safely off on some little jaunt. From scraps of information I overheard,- amid peals of laughter, enough to show that they were Kentuckians. The men answered to the accepted type of the State, being tall, lank, and keen-eyed. Hurried good-bys were said, the train moved on without the gentlemen, and the girls settled themselves into their seats. If all Kentucky women are as fair as these, no wonder the name "Kentucky belle" is everywhere a synonym for beauty. Tall, superbly built/with slender throats like a small column of alabaster, cheeks like the pink-tinted peach, "eyes of most unholy blue," exquisitely molded arms and hands--what, by the way, were they all doing with their hands that made it im­ possible to see if they were as well shaped as the rest of their queenly forms ? While chattering like magpies, they wero pulling something out of their mouths that looked like macaroni, but it was chewing-gum, a large lump of which was stuck into the satin-soft cheek like a quid of tobacco, then pulled out with both hands further and further to the utmost length of the arms, till the gum looked as fine and white as a thread of cotton, and was then sud­ denly thrust back into the mouth. The fun consists in seeing how far the gum can be drawn out without breaking, pulling it out and pushing it back as quickly as the fire-eater in the circus pulls ribbons out of his jnouth--and that's how a Kentucky belle chews gum. No Northern girl has got it down to such a fine point, but it is a disen­ chanting sight. The beautiful picture I had been ad­ miring of- the lovely girl in the fresh, rosy dawn of womanhood vanished, and in its place appeared the yellow, wrinkled, and attenuated crone who "dips." » "I don't dip no mo'," said <fne of these to me later on. "I used to, but my husband--he's one of them thar nasty pertickler ones, didn't kind o' like it, so jes' to humor him, I giv it up, and now I smokes a pipe." Dipping is not, as some of us North­ erners suppose, an operation like rub­ bing the teeth with tooth-powder, and there an end. A piece of wood about as long and thick as a woman's little finger is pounded into a sort of brush at one end, which is dipped into snuff and then put into the mouth close up to the teeth and kept there almost con­ tinuously, as a man holds an unlighted cigar. Dogwood or locust wood further down South is generally used for dip­ ping, but in Tennessee they prefer the stick of an herb that grows wild in the woods, called the "devil's shoelace."-- Cor. of the New York Sun. A Great Dictionary. The first suggestion of this great diction*.originated with a paper read before the London Philological Society, in 1857, by Dean Trench, entitled "Some Deficiencies in Our English Diction­ aries." The society immediately took the matter under consideration, and in January, 1859, published a prospectus of the proposed work. Tneir plan was to make a lexicon which should contain every word ever used in English litera­ ture, and they called upon students of the language in England and America to help them in collecting material for the work. The general editorship of the work was given to Mr? Herbert Coleridge, but his death a few years later was a great drawrback fo the un­ dertaking. Another editor was ap­ pointed, but little was done save to amass material until 1876, when Dr. Murray, an English philologist of high repute, was chosen to supervise the work. He entered upon it with much enthusiasm, and immediately sent out an appeal to teachers in all English and American colleges for co-operation in the work. His request was that per­ sons interested would read one or more books of some author, and make notes of all unusual words, or any word employed in a somewhat unusual sense, these to be written on slips with exemplifying quo­ tations and sent to him. Dr. Murray now had an iron building erected in his garden, fitted up with shelves and over 1,000 pigeon-holes. Here, with four assistants, he began the work of sorting the immense amount of material sent to him. The enthusiasm of those out­ side persons who had undertaken to read for him was so great that in a number of instances a single individual has sent in 12^000 or 15,000 slips. He has derived, he says, very great assist­ ance in this line from American teachers and students. The contract for the printing of the work was made with the Clarendon Press, at Oxford, in 1879, and in 1881 type-setting on the work was begun. In 1883, the firft part of the book was sent from the press: in 1885, the second part. These contain about 250 pp. each, and together bring the lexicon up to the word Bat­ tening. It is thought that the work will contain about twenty-four such parts. Their price is 14 shillings ($3.50) eachl For every word a complete his­ tory is given, its earliest forms, all its derivations, its derived meanings, with quotations and examples to illustrate, with all possible combinations. It is a work for scholars only, being far too bulky and costly for general readers. It is thought that the entire work will be completed about 1892, and that, en­ tire, it will cover more than 8,000 quarto pages. This will be over four times as large as Webster's Unabridged Diction­ ary, and twice as large as Littre's great French Dictionary, hitherto the largest lexicon in existence.--Inter Ocean. , Lost Couple fn Hell. Barley-break, or, as it was otherwise called, the "Last Couple in Hell," was a game played in old times by six peo­ ple, three of each sex, who were coupled by lot. A piece of ground was then chosen and divided into three compart­ ments, of which the middle one was called hell. It was the object of the couple condemned to this division to catch the others, who advanced from the two extremities, in which case a change of situation took place, and hell was filled by the couple who were ex­ cluded by preoccupation from the other places. This catching, however, was not so easy, as, by the rules of the game, the middle couple were not to separate before they had succeeded, while the others might break hands whenever. they found themselves hard pressed. When all had been taken in turn, the last couple were said to be in hell, and the game ended. LABOR takes man away from himself --idleness makes him his own disagree* able associate. MRS. BROWNLOW, the famous Parson's widow, is still living at Knoxville, Tennessee. PBE88IXQ SgQp.WDrDOm " The lTlnc Art of Attracting Customers by • XMnpl»jr oT Wares. The arrangements and combinations of goods in the show-vindows of retail establishments, known technically a& "window-dressing," has become a fine art, and persons displaying skill and ingenuity in the production of novel and pleasing effects can always command a good position and salary. Every large dry goods and fancy goods establish­ ment constantly employs men whose sole duty it is to place goods in the windows in such a manner as to attract the attention of passers. Here it is not yet looked upon as an art, as in many foreign cities. In Paris there are men who earn very comfortable livings go­ ing from one jewelry store to another, in the Palais Royal, to arrange tha win­ dows in their most attractive way. 1 Such a profession requires a good knowledge of the diverse tastes of peo­ ple, prevailing fashions, and of the class of goods which the house is most de­ sirous to sell. Besides this artistic skill, some knowledge of colors and the effect of the juxtaposition of decided tints, natural good taste, and mechani­ cal skill are all necessary; ' The hardest task of the window- dresser is that of making the show- window of a restaurant look inviting and appetizing.^ The really first-class restaurants do not ordinarily indulge in this sort of advertising, and disdain to tempt passersrby by any indication of •he contents of their larder. On the contrary, the evident desire with which the tastes of the large majority of their patrons coincide is to withdraw the interior of the dining-room as far as possible from the public gaze by the erection of wire, silk, velvet or plush screens before the lower parts of thfc windows. The restaurants of a lower grade, however, all want to place in their show-windows such articles of food and such dishes as are likely to attract customers and induce them to enter. Large and intensely yellow pumpkins, of gigantic proportions, suggestive of vast quantities of pie, with a statement of the place of growth and weight duly attached, is a favorite exhibition piece. Unusually large fish of finer varieties, such as brook and lake trout, salmon, striped bass, shod, and terrapins lying on their backs, with a label pasted on the frontal bone attesting the weight; choice cuts, or often whole carcasses, of venison, bear, antelope, buffalo, English mutton, huge potatoes, tremen­ dous lobsters, very large oysters, or oither shell-fish, and abnormally large fruits, are some of the articles shown. One of the plainest and neatest, yet most attractive, show dishes is a big, red porterhouse steak, with an edge ol snow-white fat, laid in the center of a wreath of green parsley or celery. A haunch of venison in the suggestive neighborhood of small dishes, filled with currant or. wine jellies, is also calculated to excite the appetite of the hungry. In the show-window d'f an up-town oyster saloon a large red lobster, stand­ ing with outstretched legs amid a bed of gigantic oysters, is the central object of exhibition. In the window of a Broadway restaurant, chiefly frequented by ladies, are shown the components of a dainty repast. On large fruit and pound cake are laid small slices of the same, rich with raisins, almonds, and citron, while snow-white cream cakes, or Charlotte russes, crown the whole. Other confectionery, fanciful in shape, variety, and material, is placed around, all in a way to please the most delicate in taste. Meats are never shown, and the suggestion of anything so gross is studiously avoided, this is left to the restaurants patronized by men, who are supposed to find a stronger appeal in more solid and healthier food. While the custom of showing food in this manner may seem of doubtful taste to the gourmand, and to those wrhc can afford to dine in a first-class res­ taurant, there can *be no doubt that a large custom is attracted to the restaur­ ants that resort to this form of adver­ tisement.--New York Commercial Advertiser. FtTH ASDWHT. The Menagerie. THF HIPPOPOTAMUS.--Yes, as I was about to observe, mum, this is the liip- l>opotamns--the beautiful river-horse ol the Nile. In his native land he feeds on the lotus flower and the papyrus plant. No, my boy, he never climbs and sports in trees, as doth the little busy monkey and the brisk and gam- bolsome baboon, thought he is some­ times seen takin' a stroll along on the bottom of the sea. At certain seasons ol the year, mum, river horses goes tc bathe in the Nile in sich wast numbers as to dam the river, causin' those in­ undations of the walley as perjuces that wonderful fertility of which we have all read. No, aunty, he doesn't open his mouth that way because lie's sick; he's never sick except oncu in a great while when he happens not to be in good health. No, mum, he's not sub­ ject to the toothache. He's a werry af­ fectionate creetUr, and he only means to smile when he shows his teeth like that. Ah! could have told you, sir, that you'd loose the tail ofFn your coat if you persisted in leanin' against tha cage of the wishious bobtailed baboon THE OUNCE.--My good woman, what you see before you is an ounce, but it ig an ounce that weighs many pounds. This is a little joke that we have about the animal. You may allow your little boy to laugh,-mum. Even in this great moral exposition we are not averse to little harmless witticisms that advance knowledge and improve the understand­ ing. The children, mum, generally ad­ mire the joke about the ounce. A re­ markably bright little boy that of yours, mum; already begins to snow the pene­ tration of his mother. Oh, your sister's child? You are fortunate, mum, in havin' such a sister. She is already married, I presume? If that South American sheep spit in your eye, you young rascal, it was because you was a- punciun' of him up! THE HYENA.--Here we have the wild liigli-ena of the hills. He ransacks graveyards, digs up dead bodies and devours them. His native home is in the tombs and pyramids of Egypt, and his nat'ral food is mummies--the Poti- phars and Pharaohs. This is the highest ena now trav lin in the United States. We had a low ena for a few months, but found he was too low for a high moral show sich as this, so had him shot. Madam, I would advise you to stand further back from the cage ii the little darling there in your arms has not been vaccinated, for the animal now under consideration had half a small-pox patient for his breakfast this mornin'.--California Maverick. She Didn't Understand. "William, do you run a bone-yard?" "Mercy, no, Agatha! Whatever put such an idea into your head ?" "I heard the tailor and the grocer say last night that you had refused to pay for any more dead horses."--Exchange. SOTOD concern--the ohnroh b$!L EX-CHAVOB--sleeve-buttons made OT<C ̂ of quarters. * NEVER approach an editor when he H in an armed chair. ̂ A SACRAMENTO young lady speaks si| languages fluently. May the good Lorft help the man 'that marries her.--Math:. ' H erick. _ IN Kentucky a man named Brecki% ridge or Clay can get a ten c«nt drink of whisky for a nickel.--Merchant, Traveler. . JAT GOULD says that wealth don't worry him. Shake, Jay, old boy; wij|>; • are troubled with the same complaint* --Maverick. . - f ' • THE young man who spends money - ' before he earns it is always slave# him who earns it before he spends it.-- , Merchant Traveler. " ' , A MAN who saved a young womafer ̂ s- from drowning in New Jersey, re­ cently, made a proposition of marriage to her, and was accepted. In less thaa a year this same young man will be r$- r' < gretting that he ever learned to swini; • ^ --Chicago Ledger. A FATHER was very much annoyed the foolish questions of his little soi^ "Johnny, you are a great source of ai)> »' noyance to me." "What's the mattef*r pa?" "You ask so many foolish ques­ tions. I wasn't a big donkey when||^^ v was of your age." "No?. pa, but youNp*- ;J growed a heap since."--Troy Tress. # "Why, Palette, old boy," said Robin- ' son, heartily, "where have you beett; lately: out of town ?" "Ya'as," replied v Palette, "been up along the line of the « Hudson painting little bits of Bcenery--- trees, rocks, and that sort of thing, y'know." "Ah, ah! Patent medicine ads, I suppose?"--New York Time*. NEW excavations in the ruins of Thebes have revealed stone tablets i<j» scribed with jokes anathematized cfli account of age and gray hairs by the ancient priesthood of Egypt. Printed, reports of the discovery have been palmed off on the English public for American funny newspapers and sold at a shilling apiece. PROF. EATON, of Yale, thinks the apple with which Eve was tempted in the Garden of Eden was a quince. Quite likely. It would be just like the Old Boy to hand Eve a quince and tell her it was an apple. And this gives a more satisfactory explanation, of the many wry faces that bite has caused.--- Norristoivn Herahl. "A MAN who went to church especially to hear a certain lady sing, fell dead as soon as she began." His act was fool­ hardy. If the lady's singing was so terribly bad, why didn't he leave the room ? If every man who attends apt operatic performance was to fall dead because of the bad singing, the ceme­ teries would soon ,be overcrowded.-- Norristown Herald. MARY'S LITTLE DOLL. Mary hod a little doll, (There's nothing strange in that,) Its wool was white, like other dolls'. Its little nose was flat. Its cheeks were red as roses are, Its eyes the kind that shut. Its dress pinned on--It seemed, in short, A common dollv-- But-- When round its dainty waist she felt; Aud tonehod a hidden spring, It warblod underneath its bolt, "I'm sawdust when I sing. Puck. JONES--"There's a voung man going down the street. lie was born k. ^ Yankee, but it seems to me he's becom­ ing an Irishman." Smith--"How do you make that out?" Jones--"Well, he came from the rural districts a fetr weeks ago fresh as new-mown liay.* , Smith--"Well?" Jones--"Well, sinife then he has been roped in by two or three bunko-steerers and been fleeced in scores of ways." Smith--"But what has that to do with his becoming an . Irishman?" Jones--"Well, you see;.. he is beginning to learn a thing or two --getting wisdom by experience." Smith--"Iam no wiser yet." Jones-- "Why, don't yon see? He's wearing oil the green."--Boston Courier. An Illustration. An old negro asked a State official foi 50 cents. "Go on away," said the official, "I gave you 50 cents some time ago." "Cap'n," said the negro, "yer puts ^ in mine o' de old man wliutdiad gin his " dog so much. It is er standin' 'lustra­ tion ober in Tennysee an' mebby ver've hearn o' it, but no diffunoe. De man wuz er eatin' dinner an' his daug come in an' gunter wag his tail an' frisk roun! powerful anxious to eat suthin'. • 'Go outen lieah."sklaimedde man, 'I gin yer er hunk o' co'nbraid not mor'n a munf ergo an' now yer acks like yer's er haun- gry.' Dat's de way ver looks at me, * boss. Yer gin me 50 cents las' munf an' 'specks dat I doan need one ergin bydistinie." "Here," said the man, banding him 50 cents, "go on away and don't ask me again." "Oh, thankee," sah. De white gen- nermen nearly alius comes roun' when I gins 'em er 'lustration. I'll try ter make (lis las' ez laung ez it will, sah, but in dese heali 'stravigant times yer kain' 'speck er pusson ter keep fifty cents mor'n er week. Gin me er dollar --oh, go on, den, fur yer's gunter look like yer's sorry yer gin me dis much." Arkansaw Traveler. •1 Bostoii-s Greatness. When we arrived in Boston, says an jEnglish tourist in Macm Ulan'# Maga­ zine, we hired a cab, and told the driver to show us the principal sights. :He jumped upon his box with alacrity. "I'll take you first," he said, "to see J. L. Sullivan's house." "Who is he ?" we inquired. "Never heard of J. L. ?" responded Cabby. "Why, where do you hail from ?" "From England," was the reply. "Never/heard of him there? Why, he's our gTeat fighting man." "Rubbish!" said my friend, impA* tientlv; "we come to see Boston, a great intellectual center, and the first thing you propose to show us is the house of* brutal prize-fighter." ^ Cabby muttered that the house in question was a fine one, and then sug­ gested driving us to the market. After this second proposal we had to take the matter into our own hands and make our own selection. Misunderstood ReprooL "Charley, Charley, you must not talk that way to your playmate. Didn't I hear you call him a liar ?" reprovingly chided a San Francisco mother as she called her little son in from the street. "Yes'm," replied the boy. "Go out immediately and tell Jimmy you are sorry." The boy went out and shouted to Jimmy, who was half a blook away, oil his way home: "Hey. Jimmy! I'm sorry you're ft liai;!"---Ca/tfornia Maverick. .