4ACK OF THK TLX*®,. » $ »T»MT lum. V. *; * * ffcwwtffy yon question sonor, and tftWSey ^ s*<9 You are no novice. Confoss that to little • Of my poor BOS nip of Million and Puoblo You arc a stranger. Am I not right? All! believe me, that ever Since we joined company at tbe poaada I've watched you closely, and--pax-don an old priost-- , s„ , I've caught ytra smilingl i- Smiling to bear an old fellow like me talk Gossip of pillage and robbers, and ««8S Air his opinion of law and alcaldes ; Like any other I • Now!--by that twist of the wrist on the bridle. By that straight line from the hi el to the shoul der, By that curt speech--nay, nay --no offense, son. You are a soldier? Not Then a man of affairs ? San Sebastian t 'Twould serve me right if I prattled thus wildly 3B0--say a sheriff? No? Just caballero? Well, more's the pity. _ v ill %hstT**ant here is a man of year pres ence; Sano, secreto--yes, all the four S's, .* • Joined with a boldness and dash when the time comes, And--may I say it?-- , On® not too hard on the poor country people- Peons and silly vaqueros, who, dazzled JBy reckless skill, and percBance by reckless laigess. ' Wink at some queer things. Mo? Yon would crush them as well as the rob bers ; Boot them out--scatter them? Ah I you are bitter-- And yet-- quien sabe?--perhaps that's the one, • way To catch their leader. Al&C) myself, now, I'd Fhare your displeasare-- For I admit in this Jack of the Tules Certain good points. He still comes to, oon- fession-- You'd like to catch him? Ah, if you did at such times you might lead him Home by a thread. Good! Again you are smiling; You have no faith in such shrift--and but little In priest or penitent. Buenot We take no offense, sir, whatever It please you to say; it becomes us, for church's : '-v.- s a k e , . ' To bear in peace. Yet, if you w«re. kinder-- * ' And less suspicious-- I might still prove to you Jack of the Tules Shames not our teaching--nay, even might show you, Hard by this spot, his old comrade, who, wounded. Lives on his bounty. If--ah, you listen!--I see I can trust you-- Then, on your word as a gentleman--follow. Under that sycamore stands the old cabin; There sits his comrade. You would try to arrest Oh, well, take the test of Hey!--all of What, are you mad? , him-- Yotl, with a warrant! them: Pedro, Bfll, Murray, Pat Doolan. you. Tumble out--d--n it I Ttoere, that'll do, boys! Stand back I Ease his elbows ; Take the gag from his month. Good. Now scatter like devils After his posae--four straggling, four drunken-- At tbe posada. Too--help me off with these togs and then vamose! Kow, old .leff Dobbs!--sheriff, scout, and de tective ! You'rt- so derned ante I Kinder sick, ain't ye, bluffing .lack of the Tulea? --Harper's Weekly. THE HERMIT BROTHER. BI F. CHESSWELL. Many years ago I had a friend, Kenneth Lambert. He was younger than mvself, at that time five or six and twenty, full of aspirations for a better, purer existence than the life we le<L His day-dream, cherished for a long tune, was to leave society, and choosing some retired spot live there alone with nature in study and contemplation. "Talk," his friends called it when they heard of it. Bat Kenneth through all his work--and fce was no idler--retained the notion' of this plan. At last an unex pected legacy enabled him to leave the bar and purchase the chosen site for his new home*. It was a rained chapel on the side of a moor, a place he had known all his life. Of the wayside chapel nothing was left but an archway. Behind this he had new vails built dividing the house into two rooms, one over the other. When all was completed he went there. Some people, I know, thought him mad; his sisters laughed, Baying he 6©on would be tired of his scheme. I believed in him. I would gladly have joined him, but a man with a wife and child iB not a free agent. He cannot retire into a life of contemplation, however much he may wish it. I went to see Kenneth in his new home. The place was almost inaccessible; had not Kenneth met me on the hill-top and shown me the way over the moor and moss I should never have found it. The chapel was in a copse; a wild Btream brawled by it. The oak, elder, and holly were re strained by a fence from encroaching on the chapel, and marsh plants thrust their stems through the bare. The nearest house was a farm half a mile away. Kenneth's bedroom w as simple, his sitting- room furnished in perfect taste. On the walls some fine etchings, a plaster relief whence smiled the homely face of Socrates, on the bracket an image of Buddha. Be tween these was an engraving of Dora's "Yale of Tears." Books too there were in Elenty, and the fox terrier--such were Kenneth's companions. "And nature," he Baid when I made this remark. "And here it is that you will stay, in peace and quiet." I said, "until your mis sion sends you forth." "Peace and quiet?" he answered, smiling; "BO, those are not for me. I have a pre sentiment that this ideal life will not last long. J shall marry." I looked incredulously at him. He showed me his hand. "It is written here," he Baid; "I see it too plainly. Far as it is from my desires, it is fated." For more than six months I heard noth ing of Kenneth. We went for the winter to Torremouth, I and my wife, and to our surprise and pleasure found the Lamberts had the house next our own. We had a flat, and on the flat below us lived Mrs. Vernay. Mrs. Vernay was the belle of Torremouth, and justly. I oever saw any woman so beautiful, never shall again see such a face. She was tall and slight, with a fair skin, blue eyes, shaded with dark lashes, and her shapely head crowned with really golden hair. No art was there, it was all nature, nature in her utmost per fection. She was young, a widow, said to be enormously rich, but had she been a beggar maid we all should have worshipped her. Young, old, single, married, tlierfe were none but paid homage at her shrine. Frank Lambert was badly bitten by her charms. He wus two-anrl-twenty, home for his fi»4 long leave. Mrs. Vernay en couraged hi in-more than any of the others perhaps being such a boy she looked on him as a safe game. I knew that she stole his heart with the first glance of her violet eyes, and that he has never covered from her influence. t ^ere sitting together one afternoon in the Lamberts' drawing-room when Ken neth walked in. Torremouth was not more than ten miles from his retreat, and he haa walked over, not to pay his mother a passing visit, but to stay if she would nave him. m°?eL<5ver refu8e to receive her eldest son? How the KUIS laughed at turn, declaring their prophesies true, and J»ying he was weary of solitude. I felt _ little surprised at him. Only one person preserved her faith in him; this was Grace Cheslyn, the girls friend, almost like an other sister. She was staying with them, and upheld Kenneth, whatever he micrht say. ® Mrs. Vernay dined that night with the Lamberts, coming in like some beautiful being from another world, jewels glinting in her tlress, and in her hair a snake that glittered with diamonds pnd rubies. We all came and paid «o«rt to her, Ken neth included. She looked with interest at him, saying: "Ah! the Hermit brother. I have so wanted to see you. Have you left your seclusion?" Marie Lambert. "The cold weather I that moor could not be endured." "My sister is mistaken," said Kenneth; "I lel't for other reasons, and did not par ticularly like coming away from my soli tude. " "We will teach yon the pleasures of society," Mm. Vernay cried. "Solitude is horrible. Man was not made to live alone." Did I see Kenneth wince? I could not tell. Then Grace came, asking Mrs. Vernay to write in her birthday book. And the beauty inscribed "Lily Vernay," in a clear, beauti ful writing, matchless as herself. Kenneth read it over Grace's shoulder. "Your name is Lilith," he said to Mrs. Vernay. " Who told you that?" she asked, and he replied: "I know it," without offering any ex planation. "Lilith! horrid!" murmured Grace, as, with Frank, Mrs. Vernay moved towards tbe piano. "I think it pretty; why horrid?" Marie asked. • "Dou yon not know about Lilith?" her friend remarked. "She was Adam's first wife, and for transgression was turned out of Paradise. She is the enemy of all little children, and when Jewish babies are born the nurses write 'Lilith avaunt!' against the wall, lest she should come and kill the child. And tradition says that 6he haunts ?he world as a beautiful woman, who en tices men to marry her and then strangles them in her golden hair." "A tradition," said I, "something like the legends of the Greek Lamai." "How do you know that there is not truth in traditions and folly in rejecting them?" Kenneth asked. Meanwhile Mrs. Vernay was singing song after song, and with every note stealing away a bit of Frank's heart. And her music won Kenneth to her side, for he took his brother's place at the piano and stood there turning over her pages--X believe in all the wrong places, for he looked more in her face than at the music. I confess that in those days I was vexed with Kenneth, for he seemed to have taken a 6udden and unexplicable plunge into the society which a few months previously he had abjured forever. There seemed only one explanation--his ideal life had proved dull and inksome. Everywhere I met him, chieflv with Mrs. Vernay; often Frank was with them, a woe-begone, undesired third party. And the girls declared that it was a shame Kenneth, who railed against mar riage, should come and steal her away from his brother. A few women there were who disliked Mrs. Vernay. My wife was one of them, and well enough we all knew the reason. For when, with maternal pride, she one day showed off the children to the pretty widow, Mrs. Vernay turned from them with a cold look of disgust, saying, "I detest children." An insult no mother could forgive. "That unnatural woman," my wife from henceforth called her. How lovely she looked at the Christmas ball when, radiant with delight, she crossed the room to say to me, "Look at the pro gress of my conversion. Here is Hermit Kenneth in this frivolous scene." I wish I was at the chapel," Kenneth himself remarked; and certainly no man looked so unsuited to a ball room. He had grown pale and thin during his solitary life, and wore a thoughtful air I never be fore hud noticed in him. "Why on earth don't you go back?" said I. "Nothing has surprised me more than your appearance here." I knew it would be so," he answered. "I had to come." ^ Then, in that incongruous place, he be gan telling me his experiences in that wild olitude. "I began to think my life there uselesB-- a mere indulgence of my own tastes. I read and thought, but the mysteries of life seemed unfathomable as ever. One even- ning I felt myself no longer alone. I saw nothing. I heard nothing, yet I absorbed this command into my being: 'Go into the world, fore there is a life you must save, a demon you must vanquish, and the life you have led has given you power to fight and conquer. The world will mock, and your friends misunderstand you, but heed them not. By this token know both destroyer and destroyed.' Then across the floor of my room glided a glittering snake, unlike anything we see upon English moors. And I, obeying the command, came here to find the destroyer." At that moment he trembled, touched my arm, and bid me look across the room. There stood Frank and Mrs. Vernay--she with the jewelled snake twisted in her hair, he with another, a bracelet of hers, clasped around his wrists; some joke had passed between them, and she had slipped it on. "My dear Kenneth, these are fancies, nothing but fancies," I said, for his manner alarmed me. "You can't think that anything more dangerous than a boy ish love affair can result from Frank's friendship with Mrs. Vernay." "Lilith!" was all he said. "Tell me, how did you guess her name?" "It came to me as that command came, when J saw her write," he replied. Then crossing the room he asked the beauty to dance, taking her away from Frank. I believe bets pussed between the men at the Torremouth clubs as to which of the brothers would marry beautiful Mrs. Vernay. I confess I wondered myself whether Kenneth would relinquish his noble schemes and marry like any other ordinary mortal. I rarely saw him without Mrs. Vernay. He rode with her, drove with her, spent long hours in her pretty drawing-room, and walked with her on the esplanade. I asked him what was coming from all this, and had for reply, "If I don't marry her, Frank will"--an" answer which at the time Btruck me as strange. And one day Frank came to my wife to pour into her sympathetic ears wild, fierce ravings against his brother. Why had Kenneth talked all that nonsense about celibacy and seclusion, when he came and took away the only woman Frank ever would, ever could love? And thus we heard of Kenneth's en gagement to the beautiful Mrs. Vernay. All the men in the place envied him, but never in my life have I seen so grave and gloomy a lover. Yet, like all tbe other men w ho met her, he seemed to adore her. I never heard anyone question his devotion. Perhaps their eyes were blinded. I know we all pitied Frank. And the time passed merrily by to the wedding day, Mrs. Ver nay growing daily more beautiful. Once she passed me as I walked with a friend on the esplanade. "Good heavens!" he cxclaimed. "What a likeness!" "To whom?" I asked. "To a peasant girl in the Black Forest who a few years ago created a great stir in her village. All the young fellows were in love with her; she married one of them, and a few days later he was found dead in his bed, the bride having vanished no one knew whither." "An unpleasant story," I said, little pleased to notice Kenneth near me, who must have heard every word. "Of course, it is only a chance likeness," said my friend. "Lilith!" murmured Kenneth as be passed me. A week or two later and there was a fashionable wedding in 1 orremouth, dismal as are all such festivities. Kenneth had begged his might be quiet, but Mrs. Vernay laughed in his face. "You ridiculous boy!" she said; "people will think you are ashamed of me." The only member of the family not present was Frank. He had rejoined his regiment. It was over--breakfast, speeches, and all --and I was refreshing myself by » walk near the sea. A total stranger came up and addressed me, inquiring about that morning's wed ding. He appeared to have been a spec tator in the church. Among other things, he asked tbe bride's name. "She was a Mrs. Vernay,* I replied. . * "Ah," he said, "I thought I knew her again." " May I ask you where you met her?" "In Ceylon. She came ont as a bride-- after three weeks " He Ipaused, bufl begged him to go on. ̂ " "It is an unpleasant story," he said. "Her husband was foand strangled in bed. They thought one of the Syces had done it, but some thought Mrs. Vernay could have explained the matter." I asked no further questions--a voice seemed to whisper in my ear, "Lilith!" and the stranger went on hie way. But I forgot my forebodings as the days passed bringing nothing but good news of Kenneth and his wife as they traveled in the Lake District. We talked of th^m, of the weather they must be enjoying, and speculated as to their future home, as yet undetermined. One night, after my wife had gone to bed, I was lingering over the fire. Care lessly I raised my eyes toward a mirror hung above the mantel-piece, and then my attention was riveted by the reflection that met my eyes. It was no repetition of the room I was in, but a faithful picture of Kenneth's retreat at the chapel. I saw the door open and saw a flood of pale moonlight stream into the room. I saw Kenneth and his wife enter as from a long journey, and I noticed her passing round the room looking at his treasures while he lit a lamp. She had something' in her hands gleaming against her dress, and I noted how she stole behind him as he bent over the light. Then a cloud of vapor arose from the lamp, and he turned to face her, stern and unyielding. She threw herself kneeling, praying, at his feet, but he never flinched; then she rose, changing into a tall, thin, pale figure, with a deathlike face and hollow, gleaming eyes. Still he never faltered, and with a cry this being rushed through the half- open door into the moonlight. The vision haunted me, though in every way possible I tried reasonably to account for it. The next morning I left Torremouth by the earliest train, stopped at the station nearest Kenneth's retreat, and with some little difficulty found my way to the chapel. All was lonely and deserted, yet I seemed to note hanging round the room faint traces of that smoke-like vapor. 1 returned to Torremouth telling myself that it was but fancy, and that Kenneth with his wife was in Westmoreland. At home, to my surprise, I found Frank waiting to see me. "1 have seen Kenneth," were bis Hint words. "When?" I cried. "He came to see me last night; I have seen her too," (lowering his voice), "in her true form. I know now all that he did for me. See--he gave me this." It was a noose made of a thick coil of woman's golden hair. From that time to this I have never again seen Kenneth Lambert nor has anyone else. Now, perhaps, you may call me a silly old fool for thinking anything super natural lay behind circumstances. You may call Kenneth mad, as many do, and find excellent reasons to account for every thing else. I have told neither more nor less than I saw. Put what interpretation yon please upon it, I can offer none. Was she Lilith? I cannot tell. But she cost the life (no matter how it ended) of one of the noblest men I ever knew. And Frank still suffers from having once been beneath her in fluence. Artemns Ward's First Lecture. You speak of Artemus "Ward. Yes, Artemus made his mark on the Plain- dealer, and I don't know but you were present at the old Melodian Hall when he gave his first lecture. George A. Benedict introduced him, and Artemus told me that he was never in such an awkward position in his life. Bene dict was a little too lengthy for Arte mus, and made several efforts at humor, and held the poor boy back so long that he got almost put put from what he was to begin with. He made his first sally on Painesville and now to come home and do it he tfas afraid he should fail, for at Painesville every effort he made at it was listened to as if he was passing a eulogy on the dead--he could not wring a smile from or on a single face and he was afraid he had mistaken liis calling. But he made a success in the old Me lodian Hall, and from tlicnce he went forward to conquer. At the close of his entertainment at the hall he rolled up his sheets to withdraw as he made his final awkward bow, and was immedi ately surrounded by a lot of newspaper reporters; who" begged, to take his man uscript to take notes from. "Well," he jid, "I don't want to show any par tiality, and you three may have it if you will agree in any way to dispose of it." The roll was placed in the hands of Sage, of the Herald, and the two young reporters followed Sage away up the side stairs of the Herald office and got. seated around a table, with paper and pencil, to take notes, but when the scroll was opened every sheet was blank, and Artemus had won a point. Cleveland Plaindealer. Turkish Women at Home. In the house (says a writer in the Brooklyn Magazine) the Turkish wo men appear to better advantage. They wear handsomely decorated slippers, or more often sit barefoot, and the dress skirt is let loose to trail; the trousers are drawn down to the ankles, and the ferijee thrown aside with the yashmak; and above all, the face is washed of its disfiguring paint, which is only worn in the street. The Turkish women then are seen to have-smooth, polished skins, clear complexions, and a pretty color, though dark. They are in many re spects the handsomest race of women in the face, though they have abso lutely nothing but rolls of fat by way of figure. The Georgians and Circas sians that you see among them arc slenderly built while young, though the life of utter idleness and constant gor mandizing makes them grow fat also. The drollest thing is that freckles are considered the highest mark of beauty, and oniy the Circassians have them. The women eat much sweet food, candies and preserves, and drink in ordinate quantities of Serkys tea and milk for their complexion, and eat rice in every imaginable form. A Good Reason. German (to barkeeper)--"Say, Her man, how vas dot?" Hermon--"How vas vot?" "Vv, ven you keeb der blace down on der gorner, vy, efry dime I de saloon come in you say 'come haf glass beer,' und now, since you gum ub hier you ne!>er say 'haf glass beer.' How vas dot nohow ?" "Veil, I dells you how dot vas. Ven I vas down on der gorner I vas vorking far Meester Smidt." "Yah." "Und de beer vot I gif me avay gost me nuding." ' "Yah." "But now, I owns dis blace und de beer vat I gifg er vaygost me some- dings. Dot vas de vay. ' If you bring somebody else's beer my house in I gif you all of it you vant."--Arkansaw Traveler. ; 41 FROM Scotch census returns, Dr. 'If. B. Russell finds that there is a very close relation between mortality and the number of inhabitants per inhabited room. For instance, the number of persons per room was 1.87 in Dundee, 1.91 in Greenock, 1.98 in Paislev, and 2.05 in Glasgow; and the mean death rate rose steadily in the same order to 25.7, 27.4, 27.8, and 28.6 per 1,000, re- ipectireljr ail thaselour towns. EDITOR CHILDS' DINNER-SET. Quite « Mice Fortune Invented In Silver, China, «M<i ('lmuwarcu Mr. George W. Childs* dinner-table, as it appears when set for a banquet of a dozen courses, has been made the subject of a full-page illustration in New England magazine devoted to the interests of the higher life of the house hold. The picture is beautifully exe cuted, snowing the table standing in a palatial dining-room of Mr. Childs marble mansion, and ablaze with the glitter of the superb collections of glass, china, and silver and gilt candel abra that have made it renowned as one of the most magnificently furnished and hospitable boards in the United States. The entire table-service owned by Mr. Childs is estimated to be worth be tween $40,000 and $50,000, and he has been collecting it for upward of fifteen years. Only a small portion of this great collection can, of course, be used at one time; but, as was the case when the table was set to have its picture taken, or when some distinguished guest is being entertained, the choicest gems are selected and artistically ar ranged, and the result, as seen beneath the soft light of scores of waxen can dles, is almost indescribable. The cloth on such occasions is of heavy material from the "Vale of Cashmere," of the richest scarlet, and heavily em broidered and fringed with gold bul lion. In the center is a mirror lake, four feet long by three feet wide, and above it stands a center-piece in richly chased silver gilt, vasiform, and fin ished at the top with eight burners, which, however, Mrs. Childs generally prefers to have filled with rare and beautiful flowers, instead of tapers. It has a gilt open-work border of a grace ful floral design standing three inches above the mirror in which it is reflected: At either end are exquisitely de signed candelabra in gilt and silver, which stand nearly two feet in height and hold a number of lights, being also draped with flower-bespangled vines. Standing by the candelabra at' one end of the table is a silver wine-cooler, with four raised panels of cupids and graces. The corresponding article at the opposite extremity is a crystal bowl, fifteen inches in diameter and nearly as high, used for flowers. This and its companion in another city are the finest pieces of glass yet made by any Ameri can manufacturer, and for beauty and perfection of cutting they are unex celled. The work was done by Thomas Hawkes, the great-grandson of that Mr. Hawkes who first introduced cut glass into England. The profusion of crystal upon the table in the shape of exquisite carafes, compote, fruit and bonbon stands, low and high, and with or without silver bases, is a revelation of the stage to which glass-cutting is carried in the United States. But all nations are represented. Claret jugs and wine-glasses from Bo hemia, and a set of claret-tumblers from Carlsbad, ornately enameled with sprays, flowers, and butterflies in gilt, crimson, and blue, give dashes of col oring and variety of form to the pro fuse and varied service. Amid the col lection of crystal is a set of Bohemian champagne-glasses, which are so unique and beautiful as to challenge universal admiration. They were presented by Gen. Grant. The silver objects on the table are so numerous that onlt a few can be men tioned, perhaps the most interesting being the coronet of that wise and witty English peer and statesman, Lord Broughton, which has been made to do duty as the ornamental base of a crystal fig-holder. Another odd bit is *a silver bottle shajied like an owl, copied from one in the British Museum especially for Mr. Childs, and there are several novel bot tle cases wrought in the same precious metal. But it is in the vast stores of valuable porcelain that the collection is so won derfully rich, and the crown jewel of the lot is a marvelously-large and splendid set of Minton ware, made with especial care, and decorated with exquisite daintiness and good taste. The design for the plates, which are in keeping with every object in the set, is a gilt band, about half an inch wide, on an ivory ground, looped with garlands of brilliantlv-hued flowers, tiny in size but perfect in shape. Mr. Childs'mon ogram, wrought in the same delicate flower, occupies the center of the plate. Other sets of plates show nothing but fish, others only birds or flowers, while there are several harlequin sets, in which each plate is entirely different from any of its fellows, and each is a veritable gem. In that storehouse of wealth, the china closet, which is a good- sized room of itself, are arranged scores of dozens of beautiful plates, of every size, and for every use. Many are of plain colors, but the majority show some beautiful designs. Sharing the same shelves are dozens of coffee and tea cups that have been brought from every part of the world, where the potter and the artist unite their skill. In intrinsic value this great collection far exceeds the estimate placed upon it above, for many of the pieces have as sociations that give them additional worth, while others could not be repro duced save by the expenditure of a dozen times their original cost.--Phil- adelphia Record. The Language of the Train. To sit on one seat and put your feet on another signifies, "I am not accus tomed to upholstered furniture at home." To occupy four seats on one ticket means, "1 am a hog." To lean half way out of the window in order to, see the country means, "There are no glazed windows in my house." To turn a front seat and ride backward, staling the whole car in the face, means, "I may not be pretty, but I think I am." To expectorate on the car floor means, "I have no carpets at home." To say of the station that you "cannot see the town for the houses" signifies, "I have never been anywhere before." To drink all the water in the tank and go to sleep at 8 o'clock in the morning means, "I was out with the boys last night." To be bounced off the train means, "I am dead broke." To chase your children away from your own seat to be entertained by the other passengers signifies, "I cannot afford to keep a nurse." To talk so loud the whole car can't help hearing you signifies, "I am telling all I know." To bore a reluctant stranger with your conversation signifies that you ought to l>e taken out and shot. To eat your dinner with both hands means that you would eat like a gentle man if the railroad company gave you ^ time. To whistle in the car signifies that you have no ear for music. To drum on the window with your fingers shows that you do not know how to drum. To walk through the car with a lighted cigar in your mouth indicates that it is your first cigar. To do any or all of these things just when you feel like it signifies that |fgja are away from home ana are gpingi to enjoy yourself in your own way, and you don't care who knows it. To be run over by a truck load of theater baggage on the platform signifies, "I seem to be in the way." To go into the restaurant and come out wiping your mouth with the back of your hand signifies, "I am a prohibitionist, but I am not bigoted." To change a $50 bill for a plain old farmer from Schoharie means, "I am out $5(j." To run up town five minutes when the train stops only three means, "I am liable to get left." To buy an expired liniited ticket over the Boston and Maine, and try to ride over the Eastern railway with it means, "I am a fool." To save a half-fare by telling the conductor that your 9-year-old boy will be five next June means, "I am a liar." For ninety-five passengers to get into a car that will seat fifty means, "Somebody is going to stand up."--Robert J. Bur- dette, in Pathfinder Guide. The Goat. The common or domestic goat was originally a native of the highlands of Asia. Naturalists generally regard it as having descended from an animal found in the Caucasus Mountains and the hill country of Persia, called in the Persian language, the paseng. Its legs are longer than those of the common goat, and its horns are very much larger. It is not always easy to dis tinguish between the species and varities of goats. The common goat has existed * as a domestic animal in Oriential countries from the very earliest times. From there it spread all over the world, manifesting a re markable adaptability to climate and circumstances. In this diversity of sur roundings, a . great diversity of breeds has appeared, such as the Angora goat, the Syrian goat, the Cashmere goat, the Guinea goat of Africa, and many others. No quadruped, except the dog, has shown such susceptibility of varia tion. These differences show most markedly in the quality and quantity of the hair, and in the relative abundance of the two coats, the long, silky outer covering and the soft, woolly hair be neath it. Goats are found wild in mountainous countries only; they are very sure-footed on narrow ledges or rocks, and show great strength and ability in leaping. They also prefer as food the leaves and branches of shrubs and the herbs found on mountains to the herbage of the richest lowland pastures. Among the Greeks and Ro mans the goat was sacrificed to Bacchus because of its tendency to injure grape vines by eating its young tendrils and leaves. The goat is not found wild in extreme Northern countries, but when under domestication thrives as well within a shed in the Northern districts of Scandinavia as in the hottest parts of Asia and Africa. All the species of the goat are natives of the Old World. The Rocky Mountain goat, so-called, of North America, really belongs to the antelope family.--Inter Ocean. He Thought of Hogs. "Just previous to the war," said a Mississippi planter the other day, "I Vas out in the field giving an old and favorite slave of mine some instructions about a change of fence, when I heard the hiss of a snake and jumped aside just in time to avoid the fangs of a cotton-mouth. I was for the tame badly rattled, while the old man seized a club and killed the snake. Several months passed, and the incident had been forgotten, when I got into trouble and was challenged to fight a duel. I accepted, and named the next morning at 8 o'clock. How the news got to the old slave I never could understand and he would never tell, but in some way he got an inkling that I was to fight. In the afternoon, as I sat alone on the veranda, he came shufling up, pulled off his hat, and when I gave him a nod of encouragement he approached and said: " 'Mar's James, dey dun say you am gwine to fight wid Mar's to-mor row.' % " 'Hush! What nonsense!' " 'I ain't gwine to say one word to nobody, Mar's James, but de old man " 'What ?' I asked as he hesitated. " ' 'Member dat cotton-mouf down by de swamp, Mar's James ?' " 'Yes.' " 'Member how--how you dun turned pale an' trembled ?' " 'Perhaps I did.' " 'Wall, Mar's James, if you am gwine to fout wid Mar's" jis' doant fink of shakes 'tail when you am standin' up to shoot. Put yer mind right on dem eighteen hogs which rooted under de fence an' got into do brush de odder day, an de Lawd will help ye drap him.' "The duel came off, and Mar's was 'drapped' with a bullet in his shoulder, and the old slave didn't quit Routing and praying for a week."-- Detroit Free Press. Lead Pencils. Strictly speaking, there are no lead pencils in existence. It is over forty years since a spiracle of lead cut from the bar or sheet sufficed to make marks on white paper or some roughed abrad ing material. The name lead pencil conies from the old notion that the products of the Cumberland mines in England are lead, instead of being plumbago or graphite, a carbonite of iron, capable of leaving a lead-colored mark. With the original lead pencil or strip, and with the earlier styles of the "lead pencil" made direct from the Cumberland mines, the wetting of the pencil was a necessary preliminary of writing. But since it has become a manufacture, the lead pencil is adapted by numbers or letters to each particular design. There are all grades of hard ness, from the pencil that can be sharp ened down to a needle point to the one which cannot make other than a broad mark. Between these two extremes are a number of gradations which cover all the uses of the lead pencil. These gradations are made by taking the original carbonate and grinding and mixing it with a fine quality of clay, in different proportions, according to the quality of the pencil required to be pro duced. The mixture is made thor oughly, and then squeezed through dies to form and size it, after which it is dried and incased in its wooden En velope. WHEN Mr. Lincoln, then President elect, passed through Rochester, N. Y., in February, 1861, en route to Wash ington, his face was smoothly shaven. It is said that on his way from Illinois to Washington a little girl remarked to him, "Mr. Lincoln, your face would not seem so long and you would look better if you wore whiskers." The President laughed, thanked the young miss and went his way. Thereafter he let his beard grow. THOSE who think that money will do, anything, may be suspected of doing' anything for money. As AN ambiguous statement is nwtW here nor there, where i» it ? ^ "" A HOT COLD DECK. A Poker Story of Early Dajn on the Pacific Coast. e In the early days of California--in the good old times before the ranch men and Judge Sawyer came with their injunctions to put a stop to hy draulic mining, and a stopper on the men of the mountains who first lifted California out of the hide-and-tallow trade and placed her in the sisterhood of States--in those days when the hon est miner was digging his bushels of money out of the gulches and hills, and making life possible and profitable to those on the ranches in the valleys, gold coin and gold dust were not held with the throttling grasp characteristic of this horticultural and bucolic era. Then the eager and alert eye of the calculating rancher sought out the miner as he descended from the heights of the Sierras, ai;d his hand was ex tended in welcome while the man of nuggets and "cliispas" was still afar off. In those "days of old, and days of gold," Reddy & Andrews (Tom An drews, a man well known to all the old-time Pacific Coast sports), owned immensely rich diggings at Forest City, Sierra County. They frequently cleaned up from $20,000 to $30,000 at a time. When a clean-up was made one of the partners would take the dust to San Francisco to the mint. In making these trips they generally took turns. It was before the days of tlie railroads--was in the old, romantic, sociable, happy times of the steamer lines on the rivers of the Golden State. It was the regular habit of the part ners, on getting off the rolling and thumping mountain coach, to stay over nyjlit at Sacramento, taking the boat tlie next afternoon, at 2 o'clock, for San Francisco. When it was the turn of Andrews to go down to the Bay with the dust, he frequently did battle with the tiger while lying over at Sacramento, but Reddy's strong suit was poker. Three aces was his big hand. When he held three aces he would bet his "bottom dollar and go his liver and lights blind." This was so well known that it had passed into a proverb among the Sac ramento sports. On one occasion, when Reddy had been playing all night with some Sac ramento men, and had ' quit $8,000 ahead of the game, it was concluded to follow him up. In pursuance of this plan, some of the sports with whom he had spent the night--Charley Dawson among the number--told Reddy that they had concluded, just for the fun of the thing, to take a little run with him down to the Bay. The boat had not proceeded far down the river before, as the most natural thing in the world, a poker game was started. In the game were Reddy, Foster, a hotel-keeper from one of the southern counties, Charley Dawson, and two other sports. A job had been put up to raise a cold deck and give Reddy his favorite hand of three aces. The game proceeded, and at the proper time Dawson raised the deck. The cards were dealt and Reddy got his three aces, Dawson three kings, and the others indifferent hands. In the draw, Dawson got the other king. Reddy drew two cards, but having his three aces he felt strong enough to fight an army, and did not pick up or look at the two cards he had drawn. Betting began and Foster and the two sports with Dawson did not come in. Having four kings, and being confi dent that Reddy had only his three aces, Dawson went in strong; and, hav ing his three aces, Reddy felt that noth ing could whip liim. He was so sure that he was right that he paid no at tention to the cards lying by his side, which he had gotten in the draw. The betting very shortly became red- hot. Most of the loungers about the boat were soon gathered around the two men, watching the game with breathless interest. Among the lcokers-on was Domingo Joe, a nervous, and restless little sport, who was Dawson's friend and chum. Joe--a Portuguese or Spaniard--was skipping back and forth in the restless way that seems characteristic of under sized men--manikins--peeping over the shoulders of the two men at their cards as often as an opportunity offered, his eyes sparkling and dancing wkh ex citement. He felt pretty confident that tlie cards had been properly stocked, yet he would have given whole liandfuls of gold for a single peep at those which Reddy had not yet picked up. Several thousand dollars had already been bet, and finally, as a stumper, Dawson went $2,000 better. Reddy promptly saw the raise and said: "I go you another $2,000 better!" Quite absent-mindedly he then picked up the two cards that had all the time been iying unnoticed by his side. The weasel eye of Domingo Joe de tected the other ace as the cards were lifted. Instantly an ashy pallor spread over his weasen visage. It was almost as though he had been stricken with death. However, the stroke paralyzed him for only a moment. Almost instantly he recovered his self-possession, and, thrusting both hands into his trousers' pockets, and assuming an indifferent air, he sheered off from the party. Carelessly sauntering up and (lown the boat, he began singing: And the other iell in too, boys, / And the other fell in there, too, \ This was enough for Dawson. The words of Domingo Joe's pretended song came to his ears as a death-knell. He turned pale, then red, threw down his cards and said: "Take it all--I squeal!" As Reddy raked down the whole pile he threw a glance around the cir cle of pale and silent spectators, and sang, as the words of Domingo Joe had just reached his ears: And the other fell in too, boys, And the other fell in there, toot --Virginia City Letter. Mother. Around the idea of mother the heart clings with kind affection. It is the first dear thought stamped upon our infant hearts when yet soft and capable of receiving the most profound im pressions, and all the after feelings are more or less in comparison. Our pas sions and our wilfulness may lead us far from the subject of our filial love; we may become wild, headstrong, or angry at her counsels and opposition, but when death has stilled her moni tory voice, and nothing but calm mem ory remains to recapitulate her virtues and good deeds, affection, like a flower beaten to the ground by rude storms, raises up her head and smiles amidst her tears. Round that idea the mind clings with fond affection; and even when the earlier period of our loss forces memory to be silent, fancy takes the place of remembraace, and twines image of our departed parent With a garland of graces, beauties, and virtue* which we doubt not she possessed. PITH AND POINT. .GFE. A hobby is a nigtit-nqMiu THE right side of a cause is offen left. A BACHELOR'S miss-shun is not a miss* take. A VOLUME appropriately bound the volume pf trade, bound in our direc tion. • - ISN'T it paradoxical that 1:20 o'clock is past one, while 1:30 o'clock is only half past?--Texas Siftings. ' RESTAURANT Customer--What have you this morning? Waiter--Beefsteak and shad; shad all gone. What'll you have ? SPEAKING of wages, it is when the harvest comes that the farmers go in for a general out down.--Boston Courier. "WHO," said a member of the Cana- ciian House of Commons to the mem- bers who were trying to choke him off, who brayed there ?" "It was an echo,* retorted a member, amid a yell of de light. ,,, OVERSET from the omnibus: "So, Freddy, now must thou the dear uneto congratulate. His birthday is the sarne as thine." "So, so, the uncle has to day also birthday? Then are we twin brothers!" "WELL, may I hope, then, dearest, that at some time I may have the hap- piness of making you my wife?" "Yes, I hope so, I am sure," she replied. "I am tired of suing fellows for breach of promise." A MAN in Indiana 'recently irent crajly in an attempt to decipher a supposed Assyrian manuscript. Upon examina tion, however, it was found to be simply a description of a fashionable weddihg trousseau. --Lynn Union: "THE Butter of the Future" is the title of an article in an agricultural ex change. But it isn't the butter of the future, kind friend, that interests us; it is the butter of the past, the 'way back and mouldering past, the long ago, the ages which have gone thundering down the corridors and banisters of time and left their butter as the sole reminder of their departed greatness-- and strength. Write to us of our daily companion, the butter of the dead/past, and we will listen.--Estelline Belt FOOT NOTES. Gome let us have a little fun About the ladies' shoes:-- The girl who thinks her size Is 1 Is cramped in No. 2s. Bbo who believes her size is 2, As sure as sure can bn, When rightly fitted with a shoe AY ill wear a No. 3. The girl who seems to think a3 Will fit, and va nly strives To get it on, at last will see That what she wants are 5s. > Sweet ladies, why equivocate, For fun thus furnish food? A girl who wears a No. 8 Has understanding good. --Boston Courier. NO WONDER. We were standing there together In tho mildly moony weather, Looking upward at the asteroidal twinks, twinks twinks, And with purpose to support her, My arm it rather "sorter" Kejit a reaching out in promissory kinks, kinks, kinks. Our tongues they were a-tether-- Quite as silent as the heathrr Whero tho crickets hadn't yet began to chip, chip, chip, And tho' half-inclined to kiss her I was fearful 'twould partici pate her father and his 'leven dollar purp, purp, purp. r But the scarcity of leather Agitating toward my nether Garments made me half susDeot a coup d'e tot. tat, tat, So I asked her, feeling fated, Why it hadn't consummated, And she said 'twas 'cause she hadn't any pa, pa, -- Yorders Gazette. "THE surroundings are delightful and the rooms are charming," said a young married lady, as she gazed out into a garden that made the air redolent with sweet perfumes. "I will have my hus band come over at once and sign the lease," said she. "They are very de sirable apartments, miss," replied the landlady of the ground-floor flat. "In deed they are, and I don't see why the former tenants would wish to give them up." "Och, they didn't want to, miss; faith, and they went against their will." "And how was that?" asked the now startled lady. "They died, mum; they had the small-pox, an' the patroleum wagon cum for 'em an' took 'em away wid 'em." "I'll see my husband," said she, "and if the small-pox agrees with him we will return soon."---Carl Pret zel's Weekly. "Dat Las' Ole Goose." In Fairfax County, Va., Aunt Dilsey had charge of all the poultry on the place. She declared that she scarcely got a wink of sleep for watching poultry. Nevertheless, ducks and turkeys and geese disappeared with rapidity. No body could be more astonished and shocked than Aunt Dilsey. "I'se done eberything savin' to pray fo' dat thief in meetin', and bress God I'm gwine to do dat. Sholy de good Lawd'll git atter him, and he'p us to hole on to dat las' goose," she asserted, and as Aunt Dilsey was very pious, everybody knew she would pray loudly for the goose. Although her employer believed in Dil- sey's piety, he determined to watch the poultry house that night. Soon after meeting he was startled to see Dilsey creep in and snatching up "dat lav goose" whip off its head and run back to her cabin. Nothing daunted by dis covery. Dilsey the very next night asked leave to go to "pray in meetin'." "How can you go there, Dilsey, when you have just stolen my goose ?" asked her employer. "Lawd, honey," retorted Dilsey, scornfully, "you don't think I'm gwine to 'low dat las' ole goose to keep me from my Savior."--Detroit Free Press. Taking Him to Task. Mrs. Frankie (to Grover, who has come in late)--Where have you been? Grover--To a Cabinet meeting. Frankie--A Cabinet meeting this late at night? (irover- Frankie- sion ? Grover--The cod-fish question. Frankie--Now look here, Grover, I don't want any more fish stories. You must remember, using a political ex pression, that no one but a sucker be lieves anything that a man says about a iish.--Jrhansaiv Traveler. YOUNG Wife--My own sweet Albert, I couldn't live without you! • And oh, darling! you must promise me never to go out in a thunder-storm with that precious head of yours uncovered. Newly-wedded Husband (who is pre maturely bald, with an expanse of scalp that glistens like a polished billiard ball)--WThy not, my ducky dear ? "Be cause--boo-hoo--the wicked lightning is so fatal when it strikes, and you know 'Death loves a shining mark.'"-- Chicago Ledger. FOR drunkenness, drink cold watef; for health, rise early; to be happy, l}e honest; to please all, mind your owii business.--T. Ellen Fodtoft, -Yes, important meeting. -What was under discus-