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^ * V <'C\ « „ " - \,. *<' ^ ,11 £*t ' r - > ' itfiaatAYEs. vfUKta BKurrBmib Hrt« **••» boy, against wboMwum gjEwNI |MHMl hit hand so heavily, .?-•£•' -MS*** **** eo«»4 for all the youa ;&£3MMthmi*lli«ftl'«Uturttv--- Wf 4t)k-bMw«d itdillp a>k8 inewhora ' fcejp iny sifeves, and ail the while 'A s Vj^ani» fue, so bright and lair, Pte# a fctrange, enchanting amil% 11* I look him to 1|» eyM f V v 1 r j f . ^>V 'A 'i »«» wowier it his (Mt fcave itmuth Totraad the path that made me wiM-- :^£jm»yMk «o rough, so great of length s, >1IWh along Ita aid* there lie, J , ,B«aeath tb* ovarhuging boacha, * * «**ea that I ^® ZTWtS hattar thaa my heaven-set vow*,. I tore my grave*! the pink-hued flower there in a slender wreath;^ ^ warns to ma like a priceless dower, Beeaoae my dead onei Bleep beneath. Tears thread " " ,%»,• *• *\ > L. *!i the grass like drops of dettl BOW and then a blood-red stain , how ft heart-throb broke in view,, When some transcendent hope waa slain. 'And their sweet musiciunkf a me Strong * To climb and yield confession there; -i \ ' 9o own my faults without a frown. A; i ' Ta draw a heavy brratli and pass. ' 5; . While green leaves catch a tiut of browjL And sweet buds wither in the grass. tlgh overhead, with rippling song 1 '1 he little birds All up the air. , V > •»», little birds, above my gravea; '•khc M'- _.*"ow. peatle breeres, from the sea; ||4 « • ^ w°m°. salty fragrance of the waves, 'J-**' . '+». And make lite somowbat good for me. . *$ \ „ i "What if 1 bear graves in my heart? j.'f \ ' Faith, th?y are mine to teud and keejfjT . ,,, And what if I from life should part? "li ' r'iH (Mayhap in some heart I might sleep. ° V* ' * *N M ?»,£•' **,* , / 8° lot tho laurel drop a wreath I'. / , s,v< l* Down on my graves, and let the vine **' 3' •'", Bun where my doad ones lie beneath, V/ For evorr grass blade there is mine, fai"^ ' , • itven the hands that used to touch Ifv '" h* 'Lightly my curling strands of hair £#' Still f.rt> my own; 1 love them ranch, iA* Though hid from sight and clasped in fcW ̂ *"ayer- X'>:- A TRUST FROM THE DEAD. ft cannot!" And the sweet voice faltered little, n.id into the gray eyes crept a look of anguish. * : ' _ "But, Kittie," it was a man's voice ; ,v speaking now, "is your happiness nothing? i . Hast you drudge torever, when you might , be happy?" * # . *1 must not think of my own happiness ." first, John. My parents need nie--I am frlJ&S their only support--and oh! John, you ;* would not, you could not, ask me to leave ̂ . them now, when they are old and helpless!" ?•; "And I cannot stay. There is no chance; V.. for me here to support you and them. My y only hope is in going to London. But it is \'f hard to go alone. Kittie, you don't know s how I have planned and waited for the r? - time when you would be mine." V "I know it is hard, but"--and here the !,J • patient voice faltered--"since the death of Jf v my brother, father and mother are depend- . ent on me, and as they are both ill I can- ; not leave them. I can support them by & > teaching, and my duty is here. But oh! it • is as hard for me as for you, and believe •;'* me, I shall never forget you." . 1 "Forget nie! Kittie, I shall come back' . for you in a few years." R And so they parted; Kittie Wilton to take »1 up her burden of life in the Old school, j. where, amid the hum of voices and the weary routine of duty, the old memories' would rush back upon her with overwheliu- > ing force. But she never once faltered. . > . Bravely she bore her burden, ud made • her home comfortable for those who were i# dependent on her. AB for John Waters, he went to London* v and started in his piofession, which was * that of a surgeon. Many nights, weary and discouraged, he sighed for the companionship of the dear, 1'. brave little woman he had left behind, I while she, strnegling onward in the path of duty, loved him, and in that love found ' , her only happiness. V The years rolled slowly by, and brought , but few changes. One pleasant summer afternoon, five years after the parting of John and Kittie, 7; found the latter walking alowly homeward, her duties for that day at the school finished. | Time had dealt very gently with Kittie . Wilton. The face was, if anything, more Eerfect in its quie* beauty, for the years of opeful trusting had lent a spiritual grace • not to be seen in the Kittie of fire years »RO. •; The sun had "just begun to decline be- • - hind the hills in the distance, and Kittie, ? gazing listlessly at it, was thinking of John. Her thoughts were nearly always of him, and very pleasant thoughts they were too. ^ In her hand she had a letter in the dear, familiar handwriting, which she had just / 'received at the postoffice. and which she > ,* *WBS waiting to read at home. She was sure dear John would have y something pleasant to say, though of late ^ his letters had been fewer and shorter. So .•; she walked on with Quickened steps, until she reached her own house. | First she ran to greet her dear, pa)e- , V f a c e d , p a t i e n t m o t h e r , w h o h a d b e e n a n invalid for years; and her father, who was ^ flowing Zenker and could not live long. With a smile and pleasant word for both, •V, though her heart felt very heavy as she gazed on the pale, drawn features of'her -j father, she seated herself beside them. "Have you been lonesome, mother?" - » , 1 always miss you, Kittie," answered Mrs. Wilton. "But you have a letter, i • Bead it, and tell us the good news." So Kittie opened the letter with eager fingers, and read it through with a face ^ > that slowly turned as White as the paper on which the cruel words were written. ' This is what she read: I,; "DEAB KITTIE : When you read this I «IIN be married--would I dared to say dead 1 You may condemn me--you must deapise me--and I de- 1;,/" serve yoar bitterest hatred. 'But let me tell, in as few words as possible, 1 V, | the whole miserable story. My success, as you 1 , know, was at first poor. Then 1 became ac- |s|: quainted with Doctor Carlton, who made me a IS'.., partner with him. He had a daughter whom I vM have always treated as a eister, but whom Idid '/ not dream of marrying until a week ago. Doctor ' Carltoti wa« taken mortally ill, and on his death­ bed askod me to promise to marry his daughter, ; who was, as he says, in love with me. It was a Is:, great temptation. All the benefit 1 should get :(for Doctor Carlton promised to leave me his •' whole fortuno, which is large) by such a course y-j presented itself to my view, while a voice whispered to me that you would never be mine. And oh! Kittie it did seem so. Ycrn and I both were wedded to a lif« of drudgery. But here was an escape (Or mc. Von know, Kittie, how I love money. It was my besetting sin. Well, 1 waa weak, and he urced me so strongly, and--I yielded. "Yon will be better off without me, Kittie, for I was not worthy of you. Think of me only as one who was not worthy of your pity--bow much less your love! You will fiud someone some time, Kittie, who will be to you all that 1 could act be. Then farewell. Forgive, if you can, "JOHN." "What is it, Kittie? My child, speak!" ttied Mrs. Wilton, as she' saw the girl's look of terrible grief. "Oh. mother, it is cruel--cruel!"moaned j^*What has happened? Is John ill?" *lJo; he is married!" Kitties voice was calm again, but it was tfc* calm of hopeless despair. >V "My dear girl!" cried her mother. "Jittd you have sacrificed all for us!"' . "No; it is a pleasure to minister to you. Believe me, I could not have been happy otherwise. It is all for the best; and now, dear mother, I will run up-stairs and put : away my things, and then come down and get Mipper." And with a loving smile on her face she left her. Once in her own room, though, the forced Smile faded away, leaving only the pitiful look of agony. How Kittie Wilton suffered during that hour no one who has not experienced such agpny can realize. She had been so secure ill John's love. It had been the one green Eat in the desert of her life; and now to ve the dream rudely broken, when it was growing sweeter every day, was cruel. But at the end of an hour Kittie's reso­ lution was formed. A11 this was ifi the Henceforth' her life would be de- Tofeed to toertiarente, and when they were it rest, she would try to find some one else taeomfott bless. But she would still have fomi-memories, of which no one eould r*t» her, for \ i Tow mav break, you may shatter the vase if you ®* will. But the secnt of tho roses will linger there still. Astd, although her idol had been shattered f» tl» diuL the merrinriog _of dny« timt . r! f ^w all bright with love's happiness wonl4 linger around the ruins. So she stooped to bear this extra burden laid upon her, and saying only "It might have been," went on, as many a weary pil. grim has done, with only an added look of sorrow and a few lines more to tell that she had suffered. Five years more passed slowly on their way, bringing to Kittie Wilton first the loss of her father, and following shortly after­ ward, th? death of her mother. Then alone, with no one to care for, she took up her work, and patiently, day after day, taught in the old school. Many who were not born when she began to teach there, were no* receiving instruct tions from her. But without the bright hope that had sustained her in former* iyears, the work was more tiresome, and wrinkles slowly came out on the fair face, while a look of weariness crept into the ,gray eyes, which seldom Bparkled with mirth or pleasure. The close of one day, however, found] Kittie sitting in th® little school deeply thinking. An open letter lay on the desk before her. It was from tho John of olden limes--John Waters. Many were the changes which time had brought to him in five short years. He was a wealthy man-- jKittie thought of this with a sigh, for she remembered how the wealth was gained. His wife had been dead a year, 'and he was • now left with a motherless child to care for. "For her Bake," he wrote,--"I cannot ask for myself, but for my little girl's sake I hsk you, Kittie, to come and be a mother to her." Could she refuse? Did Kittie Wilton ever refuse to minister to any one who needed her. No; and the next morning a letter went speeding to London to John, telling him that she would be his wife,; and there was enough of the old-time dream yet lingering in her bosom to make her happy. * . Perhaps she ^as foolish to forgive so easily. But she knew best--can we judge her? £o in a short time the answer came back to her, "I wftl come on for you at once. Be prepared to return with me," and more which we have no right to know. At last the long-looked-for day arrived, and Kittie, her heart full of the happiness which had come after so many years of waiting, went briskly about her work. He was coming by the afternoon train; and as soon as the scholars were dismissed, she made her way to the station to await the arrival of the train. It was now half-past four. The train was due, and Kittie strained her eyes to see it approach; but all la vain. No train was in sight. Very soon she was made aware of an ex­ cited conversation in the statioh behind her, of which she caught some sentences. "At C , fifteen miles away,"she heard some one say. "Yes," returned another; "must be dread­ ful." Down an embankment, did you say?" inquired a third. "I suppose so," was the answer, "though news is very meager as yet. The telegram has but jpst arrived." Kittie's face grew white as She 'listened to the ominous words. It was true. The train bearing Kiltie's lover had been wrecked. The suspense of the next few hours was dreadful. Hovering between hope and a dread of the worst, Kittie waited, for, being a woman, she could do nothing else. Then the next morning the news came. The list of dead was headed by the name of John Waters. If Kittie had suffered before, this was torture. And yet she must act. Ac­ companied by an elderly man, one of the school committee, she went on to C --, found John's little girl, who was alive and unhurt, and bearimr the remains of him who was to have been her husband, she re­ turned to her home. But she had grown aged in those few days. Her hair was thickly sprinkled with gray, and her form bowed. As she stood, a few days afterward by the open srave of John Waters, holding his child by the hand --a sacred trust from the dead--no ope would have recognized beneath the heavy crape veil the once beautiful and merry' Kittie Wilton. How well she fulfilled her trust to the child you may know, when I tell you that one cool afternoon in early autumn, Kittie Wilton sat by my side and told me this story as I have told it to you, and I was that child whom John Waters left as a legacy to the woman whose heart he had cruelly lacerated. If I loved her before, what do you think were my feelings then? Why, I worshiped the sweet, pale-faced woman who for fif­ teen years had been my more than mother. And there by the grave of my father, where we had come, as we often came, in "the silent city of the dead," where we seemed so near in reality to those who were lying sleeping there; amid the solemn calm which brooded over the pleasant place, Kittie Wilton told me her story. And when she had finished, I could only weep and cling more closely to her who had sacrificed her whole life for love's «*». . • • Prolonged Traaoe. L <* | Prolonged trances are frequently heard of in the present day, but rarely a trance which Is 'vouched for hy medical men to have lasted over thi'ee years. The patient, who fell into a lethargic <»ogditian at the end of May, 1883, is a young woman belonging .to a village in the Department of tpe Ais^e, in France. At that date she jgave birth to a child, which expirctf an hour after­ ward, the mother being, on some grounds not stated, accused of having strangled it. The "woman, in a weak state of health, was 'so affected by the visit of the officers of justice that she had a severe nervous attack, subse­ quently to which she fell into the lethargic sleep, from which no effort has, since then, succeeded in rousing her. Thus, for a period of three years, she has been kept alive by spoonsful of broth, or milk, or wine, administered with the utmost difficulty, for her teeth remain tightly clenched. The appear­ ance of the unfortunate patient is de­ scribed as cadaverous; her flesh is wasted away, the body being so emaci- | ated that it seems impossible she can survive much longer. It retains, how­ ever, its normal warmth; the limbs are not rigid, and the breathing, though faint, is regular. Doctors who have watched this" extraordinary case from the outset believe that the patient hears what is said aronnd her, though she is absolutely incapable of making a movement or of uttering a word.-- Belfast Witness. •r '• » Ready to Flop. ' A TTeStsm Michigan wool tWyfef "who was circulating among farmers to en­ gage their clips, met with one who was inclined to look upon the matter as a sort of gambling affair. "You agree to buy my wool for so much, a month in advance of shearing," said he. "How do you know that wool won't go <ap or down ? The price may be too much or not enough. It looks like flying in the face of Providence." After a long argument he agreed to leave it to his wife, and she replied: "Look a-liere, Samuel, I'm just as good a Baptist as yon are, and if there is anything in our religion which says we slia'n't take 28 cents a pound for oar wool when we didn't expect above 25 we'll accept the Offer on the wodl £nd flop over to. the Metlknti ste.--Wij 11 Street News'.' PBOF. HUXLEY calls it a "corollifloral dicotyledonous exogen, with a mnnopet- alous corolla and a central placenta." If you are in a hurry, you can call it MODERN MASSjERS. , Grotesquely Minute Kules la Boeks is Be­ havior. [Philadelphia Record.] If modern manners fall short of per­ fection their defects can hardly be due to lack of instruction. A host of eti­ quette books are always at hand, and the columns of the daily press and cur­ rent magazines provide for the exigen­ cies of decorum with a grotesque min­ uteness; and over and above all these ofKcial sources there is a growing tendency among certain private persons found in every stratum of society to Qonstitpte themselves judges of what is , popularly known as "form." This state of affairs suggests the uncomfortable re­ flection that the push of progress has impaired our manners and that we may possibly stand in need of this army of counselors. But this question is a trouble­ some one, for the true estimate of man­ ners of any given society requires a careful observation of the surrounding social conditions. Besides, manners, like religion, are.subject to change, and what would have been considered the proper caper a hundred years ago would now be highly improper, judged by the standard set in the same social scale. Taking the relations of the sexes, which, it has been claimed, supply us with the origin of manners* the most feebly astute can readily see that wo­ man is treated with far less deference now, when her claim to the courtesy and homage of man is admitted on all hands, than Rhe was in the days of knightly chivalry, notwithstanding at that very time she was "half wife, half chattel." The easy grace of courtesy is too often replaced by slangy famil­ iarity, and frequently tinged with a strain of indelicacy. Still there is little doubt that in modern manners we at least have the advantage in the latter respect. The grossness, perhaps plain­ ness would be a better word, of speech which characterized the conversation of our ancestors several generations ago would not be tolerated in polite society to-day. Coarseness that would now be resented as an insult formerly passed as the merest badinage, but it may be doubted whether* intentional slights, especially to women, were not rarer in those days, when the ethics of courtesy had their sanction in the sword with which every cavalier felt it his bounden duty to defend his lady. The reason for this degeneracy in "manners" is not far to seek. "Women are no longer the pretty toys whose ac­ quirements are bounded by deportment and sampler work. They are wide awake, and are doing their share of the work of humanity. Men and wo­ men meet upon a common ground, work shoulder to shoulder, and in a great degree have the same aspirations and the same interests. It is possible, too, that in some instances woman is looked upon as a rival in the field of labor which in the "good old days" was regarded as man's especial domain. This atmosphere is not congenial to the development of chivalrous defer­ ence ; but it is a question whether the obsequious deference of a narrow- minded soul capable of jealousy of a co-worker, and a woman at that, is worth having (?). Woman still has the power to exclude from her presenco contaminating influences, and enjoys the rare gift of refining by her presence the coarseness with which she may be brought in contact. The men whom she may meet, either socially or in a business way, may not literally bow down and kiss her feet, but they will respect her, and if necessity arises protect her as chivalrously as any knight of old. So much for manners between the sexes. Courtesy is an altogether different thing, and may exist where the least at­ tention is paid to "manners." Emer­ son says: "The first point of courtesy must always be the truth,. as really all forms of good breeding point that way." There is, however, a very general idea abroad iu the world that courtesy and sincerity are quite incompatible. Many sensible and honest people re­ gard politeness as only another name for humbug, and, in their anxiety to steer clear of dishonesty in speech, fall into a habit of surly ungraciousness. Others go still further, and pride them­ selves on being plain people who speak their minds. They will go out of their way to avoid saying a pleasant thing or paying a compliment. In season and Out of season the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, ema­ nates from them until they become un­ mitigated nuisances, ̂ ind bring honesty itself into disrepute. Polished manners need not of neces­ sity enter into "trtie politeness, which always comes of sincerity, and is always found allied to it." When it is genuine, it shows a line sensibility and a just consideration for the feelings of others. It is the outcome of a good heart and a cultured mind. But politeness which is not based on honest feeling, however it may be embellished by grace of man­ ner and elegance of speech, is false­ hood merely, and rarely deceives. Agreeable people are undoubtedly born with the qualities that make them beloved by all. Some unhappy beings are so organized that it is only with difficulty that they can even force the appearance of politeness. Without any intention on their part their manner is repellant, and, if they have a fair share of combativeness, they become antago­ nistic to a disagreeable extent. But even these unfortunates mav school themselves to display the semblance of virtues they do not possess, and in time become possessed of the virtues them­ selves. The Arab Balance Dance. The Arab quarter of Port Said con­ sists of booths and wooden huts, and the bazaars possess for experienced travelers little interest or picturesque- ness. In one of them, however, we found a native cafe, where two Ohawazi girls were languidly dancing before the usual audience of low-class Arabs and negro connoisseurs. One clad in scarlet was a novice of no skill; the other, graceful and clever, with a handsome face of the old Egyptian type worn hard and marked bv a life of vice, was prettily dressed in wide trousers of purple and gold, a spangled jacket and head-dress of coins and beads, with a jingling girdle of silver amulets! Asked if she could perform for us the "balance dance," she consented to ex­ hibit that well-known Egyptian pas for the modest consi4eration of 2 francs and a bottle of English beer. The cork of this contribution being drawn, a lighted candle was fixed in the neck of the bottle, which was then placed upon the crown of her black and glossy little head. A carpet was next spread upon the sand, and, extending her hands, armed with castanets, and singing in a high but not unpleasant voice to the accompaniment of a darabouka and , rabab, she swayed her lithe body iq slow rhythmical motions to the words of her song and the measured beat of the musicians: "I am black, but it is the Send me some rain of help from thy pity. I am thirsting for thee." The Ghawazi began with Arabic words of this tenor, keeping exact time to her strain with foot and hand and the tremors of her thrilling slender frame; now slowly turning round, and softly advancing and receding, now clasping her hands across her bosom or pressing them to her forehead, but perpetually keeping the bottle and lighted candle in perfect equilibrium upon the top of her head. Suddenly she sank, with the change of the musical accompaniment, to the ground, and, while not only maintaining the completest harmony of her movements but even making this strange posture one of grace and charm, she contrived in some dexterous man­ ner without touching it, to shift the bottle from the top of her head to her forehead, and thus reclined on the mat, her extended fingers softly slapping the castanets, her light girlish frame palpitating from crown to feet, always in the dreamy, passionate measure of the ancient love song. This was really an artistic piece of dancing, though the performer was only a coihmon "almeli" from the delta; but the dance is, no doubt, as old as the Pharaohs, and every step and gesture traditionally handed down. --Rochester (JNE rja Herald. * " & ••**} * \ • . ' . « MM AID POTMEN Tooting iii the Clioir. Johnny's biography would be incom­ plete without the statement that he is a regular attendant at church and Sun­ day-school. At the juvenile service he is in the regular cast for impressive and oral recitations of sundry golden texts and topics. At the regular services Johnny's er­ ratic and childish treble, with his pa's deep-voiced basso and his ma's clear- toned soprano, helps to swell the volume that ascendn to the Maker of all good and perfect things. The little church in the suburbs is beginning to assume cosmopolitan airs, and the latest move looking in that di­ rection is the addition of a pair of cor­ nets to the choir. This innovation, of course, met with considerable opposi­ tion from the good old fathers and mothers of the flock, to whom even the little one-story organ that managed to keep in wheezing distance of the choir was an instrument of the devil's OWQ plan itself. "When the choir stands up in a line, adjusts its, skirts coquettishly and ar­ tistically as only a member of the choir can, and the horn-blowers begin to get red in the face, then the service of song begins. The ensuing volume of melody has a tendency to goose-egg Johnny's weak-kneed treble, and the youthful philosopher on the way home after service, while dragging his new shoes through the band of dog-fennel that decorates the edge of the side­ walks in every well-regulated suburb, relieved his mind thus: "Say, pa, what do they have them horns in the choir for ?" "To swell the volume of music, my son, on which the choir can spar to the Mustache Cups a| ncy L ^--nri li "Come out of that dog- fennel, Johany; you'll spoil your shoes." "Say, ma, didn't it used to be wicked to Wow horns io church?" ^ "Yes, Johnny." *• "Then hain't it wicked now?" "No." "Why hain't it wicked now?" "I don't know," answered jja, hurry­ ing up to get home. "I'll bet I do," said Johnny. "It's because they make better horns than they used to. Don't you bet so, ma?" "Thank goodness, there's the house. It will be a cold day when I take this boy to church again," was the mental resolve of the old gentleman as he closed the gate with a week-day bang behind him.--Cincinnati Times-Star. How Adventurons Females Attract the Opposite Sex. A great deal has been said and written about street flirtations, and this irregular method of making acquaint­ ances has, of course, been condemned on all sides. Nevertheless, the prac­ tice is constantly on the increase. The . fault lies principally with the females, who, from carelessness, a love of ad­ venture, or for some worse motive, en­ courage the advances made by stairway statues and corner loungers who infest our streets. A lady when insulted by the bold stares or the significant coughs and winks of these nuisances pays no attention to the annoyance and escapes further insults by her judicious conduct. The females who are willing to be accosted by strangers, and to form, passing intimacies in that way, not only respond to the advances made by the "mashers," but they have in ad­ dition a code of signals which are plainly understood by experts in this line of business. Two or three years ago it was the fashion to wear long rib­ bons which were so arranged that they hung over the wearer's shoulders. It became well understood that if the streamer depended from the left shoul­ der it meant, "Fellows, come follow me," and many a young girl who did not understand the code was subjected to annoyance and insult. Lately a new plan has been adopted by the flirtatious females, and it is now all the rage /in certain circles. An umbrella or parasol is the weapon of offense, and in the hands of an expert it is as dangerous as the Spanish lady's fan. If closed and used as a cane it signifies that the owner would not be averse to securing a male companion for the promenade, provided he is good-looking and "nice." If closed and carried horizontally in front of the owner with end sticking out, the signification is that the owner can make her own way through the streets and secure plenty of room, with­ out additional assistance. If closed and carried over the shoulder much as a carelcBS sportsman carries a gun, the meahing is that the fair damsel is look­ ing for an adventure. When this last signal has attracted the attention of a "desirable" party of the male per­ suasion the experienced flirt raises the weapon perpendicularly and then drops it to the front. This means that the man to, whom she is signaling is to overtake her and enter into conversa­ tion, and the invitation is seldom disre­ garded by the fellows who are con­ stantly on the lookout for chance acquaintances of the opposite sex. Many women who claim to be, and doubtless are, "respectable" indulge in this amusement.--Rochester tout-Ex­ press. v TATLOR (to a stout customer): "Have the kindness to put your finger on this bit of tape, sir--just here) I'll be How Senator Sumner Defeated Li»<wln'g BUI. A well-known member of the Cabinet tells some interesting reminiscences of Senator Sumner: A few days before Lincoln's inauguration Sumner called at the W hite House and told him that he was determined to defeat in the Sen­ ate his favorite bill regarding Louisiana, because it involved a vicious principle, which would be quoted as a precedent when any large scheme of reconstruc­ tion, applying to the Confederate States, might be brought forward. Lincoln blandly listened to the Senator's remon­ strance and replied: "Mr. Sumner, I am not convinced by your arguments, and as to your threat of defeating the bill, I can tell you that it is impossible, for I know that a clear majority of the 8enate is in its favor." "But 1 tell you, Mr. President," answered Sumner, "it shall and wjll b? defeated." "Try it," was the quiet retort Sumner did try it. He appeared ©it the last night of that session of Con­ gress with a small law library, partly on his desk and partly piled up on each side of it. The bill was introduced, and it was supposed it would be immediately passed. Sumner however, had the floor and began to speak. After he had spoken an hour or two, it occurred to Senator Wade, of Ohio, to ask Sum­ ner--as the session of Congress would soon expire, and as there was much necessary business litill remaining to be done--how long the Senator from Massaclmssetta intended to speak. Sumner replied in his most courteous tones that he feared he could not get through his argument in less than six hours. The Senator from Ohio must see from the books he had about him, every one of which contained matter bearing on the question of the debate, ar^l from which he proposed to make copious extracts, that his speech must be of unusual length, and that he could not promise it would come to a close before the legal session of Congress came to an end. Wade, who had in his charge what was in effect Lincoln's bill, was, on this announcement, com­ pelled to abandon it. Sumner managed to have the whole great subject of re­ construction postponed to that period when it could be discussed in all its larger relations, to the welfare of both sections of the country. It is very likely that this incident, as Sumner told it, may be inaccurate in detail; if so, the fault is in the memory of the listener, not in his long narrative. But his object in telling it was to illustrate a beautiful quality of Lincoln's charac­ ter. "I thought," he said, "that the Presi­ dent would consider my opposition a personal affront. Instead of that you may imagine my surprise when he sent me a note next day asking me to accom­ pany Mrs. Lincoln in his carriage to the ceremonies of the inauguration, and also to accompany her to the inaugural ball in the evening. As to the ball, you may imagine the kind of wonder that was excited when, with Mrs. Lin­ coln on my arm, I made my way through the throng of ladies and gentle­ men present and placed her in a selected seat. The thing was nothing in itself, but still I thought it read a lesson tq shrewd politicians when they had to undertake the task to please such a man as President Lincoln."--Washington correspondence Indianapolis News. Neat Replies. Andrew Jackson, it is related, was at one time entertained at dinner by a gentleman, and among those present was one of those people who often find their way into story books, etc., as the type of that offensive class of Ameri­ cans who are always trailing their nationality in the dust in the effort to exact their individual independence. This particular gentleman, over the wine and walnuts after dinner, in order to emphasize his own independence of disposition, of which ho was loudly boastful, remarked with a rare exhibi­ tion of self-complacence to Gen. Jack­ son: "I always vote against you, sir." The company wns naturally rendered speechless by this unexpected dis­ closure, and the scene actually looked squally; but Gen. Jackson put a stopper on the boastful individual and avoided further trouble by smilingly re­ marking : "And I, sir, have always fought the battles of my country -that you might enjoy that privilege." Another instance of a happy response is that of an old Southern judge--but whether judge by courtesy or in fact, the writer cannot state--who must ha^e had the faculty of quick and appropri­ ate reply pretty well developed, if the story related of him is true. Speaking at a certain place one evening in the interest of his own candidacy for Con­ gress some one in the audience, who evidently had a good memory, inquired: "Didn't -you speak here just before the war?" "I did," promptly responded the judge. "And didn't you say we could whip the durned Yankees with pop-guns ?" "I did," replied the unabashed judge, "but, confound 'em, they wouldn't fight that way!"--Pittsburgh Dispatch. The Battle of the Boyne. This battle was fought near the River Boyne in Ireland on July 12, 1690, be­ tween the forces of William III., who had been Prince of Orange, and his father-in-law, the deposed James II., the last of the Stuart Kings. The last- mentioned King was an undoubted coward. He lcoked at the battle from a safe place on the top of a hill, and When he saw his cause. was lost he galloped to Dublin as fast as he could, and took passage for France. William, on the contrary, was wounded, almost before the tight began, in the right shoulder, but he had his wound plas­ tered up, he held his sword by his right hand, managed his horse with the in­ jured arm, and was always in the thick­ est of the fight. One of the Irish is re­ ported to have said afterward to an Englishman: "Change Kings with us, and we will fight you again." The order of Orangemen sprang from this struggle. The Woman Who Never Slanders. Here's to the woman who never slan­ ders, who never retails ill-natured gossip, and who does not feel it her duty to straighten out the world around her. These curios are not so scarce as men would have us think. But tennis grounds, winter ball-rooms, and fash­ ionable tea-tables are not their stamp­ ing-ground. They have to be hunted; they are not matrimonial Dianas aim­ ing at pocket rather than heart; they mind their own affairs strictly. That's why the male creature seldom hears of them and seldom sees them. They haven't time to purr with the tommies and tabbies of leisure.--San Fran­ cisco Report. . , THE real lucky fisherman is tho ono * " ~ Origin of the Potato ̂ An interesting article on this subject is given in a recent number of Nature, from which it appears that we have as yet no certain* knowledge of the original home of our popular tuber. Whether it came from Peru or Virginia has yet to be settled. The writer says the question of the introduction of the potato is a very complex one. Potato is but the English way of pronouncing batata. But what is the word batata ? To what language does it belong ? The first European knowledge of it appears to be traceable to Cuba, San Domingo, or some of the neighboring isles at the time they were discovered by Colum­ bus, 1492, etc. But then the sixteenth century writers on Peru also use it as if it were a common word there and if it were at least interesting if not strange to find a word thus widely spread over and across districts where, it has been said, languages so vary with tribes that one cannot even understand another though neighboring tribe. But first wo have to consider: Is there any con­ temporary evidence that the "West Indian natives did make use of a word which when written by the Spaniards appeared as a batata ? It woulcHnvolve a special search among such materials as Navarett had at hi3 disposal to decide that. Compilations are not to be trusted, and English versions are of no avail. What the actual word was writ­ ten by Columbus or his companions is what is wanted. Then if it were a true West Indian word and introduced and known with some plant in Spain and Portugal in the early part of the six­ teenth century, -vliat is the probability that at the middle of it writers on Peru used it as a name that would be under­ stood at home even though not used by the South American natives? -.With regard to papas, it is distinctly stated by Acosta it was a native name in South America, but the writer does not know of any passage in which batata is said to be. It has been pointed out above how the mistake ferose that papas has been considered a Virginian name, and it is possible batata may prove to be not a South American name at all. There is a Quichan W|ird, ascu, equivalent ap­ parently to papas, to which only Mr. Clements Markliam among English writers seems to have drawn attention. At present, in English traditions of travelers in Peru, papas and batata ap­ pear often confounded. Then in regard to our own use of the word batata, did we have its wild roots through the Spaniards, or direct from the West Indies ? The earliest use of the word does not yet seem to have been fully searched for. It may, however, be found earlier than in the list of literary quotations usually given. For example, it occurs in the account of Sir J. Haw­ kins'voyage 1565: "Hennes, potatoes and pines." The earliest description the writer has been able to trace of what the potato was in the botanical work of 1570, published in London, Lobel'8 "Stirplum adversaria nova." A figure is given of the root of the batata, and at the heading is "Anglice, Potades." In 1596 the form potation is met with. In 1627 and 1676 potadoes, and in 1685 pottato. Batata itself by the Spaniards seems to have been spelled indifferently batata or battata. Then there is another curious point. How has it come to pass that for the same plant the Spaniards of to-day re­ tain papas, while the Portuguese use patata for the plant we now po­ tato ?--Scientific American. The Women Who Inspire Admiration. The women who inspiro admiration are not always the most beautiful. They are tine women who comprehend their own needs and study out the best means to improve and make them­ selves attractive. Only a very beauti­ ful woman of a strongly-marked indi­ vidual type can afford to run directly against accepted fashion, either in dress or the arrangement of her hair. Every ooe, however, can modify the prevail­ ing style sufficiently to meet her own requirements. Plain women can ren­ der themselves attractive by studying the becomingness of all portions of their toilet. This can only be done by comprehension of one's self. The high­ est cultivation of the time is that of in­ dividuality, and in no other way is this more demonstrated than in the general attire of women. The plump woman of short stature no longer arrays her­ self in the modes suitable to her tall, slender sister, simply because they are the "latest thing out." The woman with a high forehead does not comb her hair straight back because her dearest friend, who happens to be blessed with the low, broad, idealistic forehead that artists love to reproduce, finds this the most becoming way to arrange her tresses. Women cannot fail to find modes, fabrics, and colors suitable both to their individual styles and to. their purses, and it is their own fault if their appearance is not pleasing. --Chicago News. A What He Wasn't «Stnck On." "Many thanks, my son," exclaimed a benevolent-looking man as a ragged little boot-black handed him a pocket- book which the former had dropped and the latter picked up. "Now let me see if everything is here," continued the man as he ojiened the pocketbook and began an examin­ ation of its contents. "Railroad passes, receipts and money. Yes, everything is here just as I left it. What is your name, my little son ?" "The kids call me 'Sheeney Bob,'but taint my name. Bob Miller's my name." "Well, Robert! You are a very hon­ est little man, and if you keep on you will become an ornament to society. Many thanks, Robert, for returning my pocketbook My blessing upon you, my child." "Say, mister," said Bob, as the mis­ sionary started away, "D<5n't you go and get reckless like wid your blessin's. I ain't got no use for blessin's anyhow. You kinder kdtep 'em an' if yer aint got enuf I'll buy yer some. Money aint no object ter me. I ain't stuck on a quar­ ter like you. Why, mister, I aint stuck on my life the way yon is on a quarter,"--St Paul Globe. Engagement Rings. In an article on engagement rings, a French writer says: l)o not ohoose the ruby, it is too shOwv, loud, and indis­ creet. Good taste inclines toward the sapphire and diamond, of which the one does not go well without the other. Do not choose a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds, but ask your jeweller- artist to interlace in happy combina­ tion the sapphire and the diamond. The turquoise is also a tasteful stone, but when it is constantly worn it has the immense disadvantage to change color, and to this change most women attach a sad and sentimental super- stitionl • It should not, therefore, be chosen for the first present, which is to be worn and cherished while life lasts, which remains from the days of youth while everything elae ehangeft;": ""VST"# . - $ 1 . * SffV-1 » '•ji! A coox. letter--iced T. ALWAYS ahead--the skulL A SWELL dinner--dried apple Mid water. CAPITAL punishment--makingthe V4 boys sit with the good girls. _ TfiE man who carries a pack of cardj about his clothes is pretty sitre to have his "hands" in his pockets. • A BILLY-GOAT should be the best ma­ terial for oleomargarine. He is the best butter among quadrupeds. "THEN you don't believe that love i> blind?" "No, I don't" "How does that come?" "Well, sir, I,never knew . a young woman to fall in 'lore with a man who dyed his whiskers." A PLATE has been discovered on which a pie can be baked without burning while the mistress of the house is finish­ ing her novel and the cook is having a few last words with the policeman. A DUDE has Rued a skating-rink ownei for a lost cane. Such an exhibition ol courage leads to the dark suspicion thai the dude swallowed it and so acquired a temporary spine.--Lowell Citizen. A WESTERN lecturer recently adver­ tised a lecture for ladies over 25 veart of age. The lecturer was promptly on hand, but the audience consisted of onlj one person--the lecturer's aged grand­ mother. A CITIZEN of Buffalo inquires: "Why cannot we have a subterranean hotel a! Niagara; underneath the Americac falls?" Probably because thatf would be running the hotel business into the ground.--Pittsburgh Chronicle. A POET says: "I threw my love tc him, and it hath gone astray." Of course. If ahe had thrown a stOne at a cow the missile would have gone astray, too. The better plan would have been to carry her love to him in a basket. * "I CAN'T sing," said the young lady when invited to warble, but she com­ plied upon being further pressed. When she had finished Fogg thanked her and added, sotto voce: "I'll never doubt anybody's wprd again."--BurlingUm Free Press. SPIEITUALISTIC medium--You now be­ hold the spirit of Algernon Snobbins. Do you recognize him? Visitor--I do. Spiritualistic medium--He does not seem to recognize you. Visitor--Q, that's because I failed in business re­ cently.--Rambler. "I DON'T think much of the men, tak­ ing them as a class, good, bad, and in­ different," remarked a Chicago belle. "Yes," returned her companion, "I feel the same way. Come to think of it, though, I hate the indifferent; all."--Merchant Traveler. WON'T EVEN UP. ? Twenty little maidena • * Sighing at a hop, Wished twenty fellowa ,< \Vould come thore to atlHk" ' Twenty dapper clntkllng^f v»? Sitting in a row, --T Dip ping pens in inkstancU^-,-- Much would liko to t;o. All '• this world's ac odd oMft^ Things don't even up ;v/ When we want a quartfu)* " W' e oaly get a cup. MARCHING into the center of the store the red man, after the style of the pow- wow around the camp-fire, expressed himself as follows: "Big Injun wants heap big sweet wind." Without any hesitation, the clerk at the soda foun- I tain turned off two glasses of the effer­ vescing soda water and gave them tc the two red men. The Indians dnutk : $ and were satisfied.--SL Paul Xxlobe. : | At.1. the flirting and deceiving; Captivating, make-believing, > , .1 With Its temporary Bwectness, tonsa the : t uro of a day; Asd a tlirilliaM memory linger* Of the touch of Blender flngera, • . Stolen sweetness, (-miles and bluahes that iMMt vanished all away. • ij But perhaps you know tho pleasure j • Of possession in your measure, Aadl year of adaptation has remodeled your flS" j . sire; > ' * ^ When vou modify the rapture ( Of your hymeneal capture, , ' Al 796 shiver in attempting to eonatractltit 1 kitclien fire. FLOSSIE had been presented with a box of French candy. "Now,- Flossie," \ said her mother, "you have eaten all that you ought to. You can have one I; piece more, and then we will put the | box away until to-morrow." "Can I % have any piece I like?" asked Flossie. | "Yes; take the kind you like best." Flossie hesitated. "Well, mamma,"she said, finally, "if I take the kind I don't like best can I have two pieces?"-- Harper's Bazar. An Easily Comprehended Game. They were having a four-handed game of euchre in the smoking-car, and one of the players said to his partner, a harmless looking old man: "I wouldn't mind risking a $20 note that the first three cards dealt me on - this hand will beat any other three cards on the board at poker," "I don't know nothin' about poker, ' stranger," said the harmless looking old man; "but if I did, maybe I'd bet ye." The game was explained to him, and after some hesitation, he said: "Well, stranger, I'll go ye $20 that 1 kin down ye." The money was put up, and the poker player triumphantly showed down three aces. "I am sorry for you, old man," he said, "but three aces can't be beat." "Yes it kin," replied the harmless looking old fellow, displaying three hearts; "a flush, as ye call it, beats three of a kind. As I said," he con­ tinued, pocketing the money, "I don't know nothin' about poker, but from what ye have told me about it, I reckon it ain't a very hard game to lain, stranger.*'--Traveler*s Magazvn^. A Sore Core. • .»V % Paterfamilias--Do you know, miss, it was twelve o'clock last night when that young man left? v; Dutiful Daughter--Oh! it couldn't have been, pa. "But it was. Now, don't let that hap­ pen again." ( "But, j a, I can't turn them out, yon know. What shall I do? I did noth­ ing to entertain Mr. Blank last evening ^ except to show him my scrap-book." "Well, Til bring home my account- book to-night with the dry goods, milli­ nery, and dressmaking expenses bal- | anced up. Show him that."--Omaha ' World. Her Repertoire Did Net Fit In the "How did yon like Bernhardt ?" he asked. "Well, I don't exactly know; IVs only seen her once." | "But she has a wonderful repertoire;* :% "Has she? Well, I must say the one she had on when I saw her didn't fit at all in the back," and then it was as still as a store that never advertisers^ ; New Haven News. WE presume tailors are generally successful in love affairs--they know so >3 well how to press a suit. || WHEN may two people be said to be | half-witted ? When they have an under- % - ,-r-- ,y'r