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1.1 (M&TKE, Ed nsrasi PrtHsMr. ; 'MNN - ILLINOIS. arr FIRST KISS. BT UVlTEL MINTCHIf PI *1 MV' 0ei • smile of parting day ' WH waning in the west; toft shadows climbed the eastern WM,. Where morning's feet had prest. W* Watered on, my Love and I, , Am<a the fragrant dew, . , And though our hearts were boating hlih Our words were low aud few. The little stars laughed down In scttlk-- Where had my courage fled? At last, with strength of paftaion barn, > The fateful words were said. Sbeoouldnot spoak--she could not aM So thick the teardrops slione. But drooping eyelids told to me 'What lips were shy to own. ««, Fw toiled and won an honored na4|(i \ And now I'm growing old; ' f Pre touched tho shining hem of FaOM, And fonnd its touch was cold; Bat still from out the shadowy pail One memory brings me bliss. For I shall keep while life shall 1 Oar first, betrothal kiss. Orleans Times-Democrat. V ' I ' THrGREEN-EYED MONSTER. y ' IT ». S. ATKXNSOar. 4 f •* Outside a large and comfortable resi­ dence on the outskirts of a great city, a Wild storm raged, Inside, a woman eat kttt in thought It would be hard, even for me with so mach imaginative license as a story-writer, to say what thoughts held this woman al­ most spell-bound before the cheerful log fin, bat the opportunity may be taken to gather something of her history. Maj Worthington is no child; no one Would ever think of her as aught but a good, thoughtful and experienced woman. She is only 23 years old, but her life has not been all sunshine. Indeed, her pathway has mostly led her along that side of the load where the shadows fall thickly. May Worthington was left with a brother only two years older than herself, before •he was 15 years old, to fight her way un­ aided through the world. May was clever, and by close application •Don fitted herself for teaching some special branches of study. She and her brother were well liked by all with whom they came in contact and never lacked finads. When Hay w%s 20 she lost her brother. Ko, he did not die. Sometimes she al- moirt wished that he had, for then, at least, •he could have spoken of him to sympa­ thetic friends. As it was, she knew not Whether he was alive or dead, and--if that Were the only uncertainty! Not that what folk* said influenced May in her loyalty to her brother. He was still her brother, whatever the world might say. But then, •he could not close her ears to what it did •ay, and it hurt her, eh, so much. After he was gone May found a home in AM household of Mr. Paul Lawrence, as Companion and governess to "that gentle­ man a young step-sister. Mr. Lawrence and his young sister had •bo lost both father and mother. Bnt the Lawrences were rich and knew very little about the losing side in the battle of life. Yet they cheriaherf hindlv and svmpathetie feelings toward lonely Slay Worthington, and both Maude Lawirence and her brother tried in many ways to make their home a pleasant one for May. May knew this and •gmnowted their kindness. I For three years she had been with the Iavmees, during all of which time she had been Maude's constant companion and warm friend. But Paul, kind as he was to her in many ways, had never attempted to •1--ely ealtivate her acquaintance. Paid Lawrence was a very proud man-- wrr cold and reserved; a man who did not invito coafideaee and who would not force his acquaintance or friendship upon any. Bnt one felt sure that hi* fries idahip once •seared, weald be worth retaining. He ; one of those men with a calm ex'erior passions are none the less intense s hidden far out of sight. May Worthington had plenty to think on this wintry night. let* some- were stay-at-home thoughts, starting upon a short trip they always came back and stopped at Paul Lawrence. Ah, well! May Worthington was only a Wonuta, no more and no less, and shall ire say that she was foolish or unwomanly in that she (almost unconsciously, perhaps>, ktvad unasked? She was not the first wo­ man who has apparently wasted her love, : will she be the last, and, somehow, it fas as though they are oft-times the best •f women who love where love is unsought. May Worthington had never dissected her feelings or cross-questioned her heart and Would, therefore, never have admitted that she loved Paul Lawrence. But she did. And just as her thoughts emerged from their day-dreams, and just when the' feast little tear of loneliness trickled adown her pretty lace, there came a rap at the door. When it opened it admitted--Paul Law- a boyish shyness in his a>Min«r as he faul was twelve years older than My, bnt he hardly looked it, and there was al "ft heeded. Miss Worthington, I wish you would pity on my loneliness this evening and let me sit with you awhile. I don't know how you feel to-night, but 1 am particularly •blurt"--the more so, perhaps, as I am alt lbs time thinking about Maude, who is so Men to leave us." ' . May bade her visitor welcome, and Paul drtw a chair up to the fire. Mr. Lawrence did not permit the awkward silence to last •ery long, for, drawing his chair yet closer and with a very earnest, look upon his face, he went on: /May, I do not know why I never told jo* before, perhaps because I was hardly sure of it myself, but I love you and I want jronto be my wife." JTot a word said May. "This is a lonely house and will be mOre so when Maude is gone. Stay and brighten It tor me, will you, dear?" Silence again. "You wish for a little time to consider, perhaps. Take it, if you wish. I am a quiet man, May, as you well know; I do not wear my heart upon my sleeve, but I love yon, dear. Of that J aiu now quite sure." Somehow, by this time Paul Lawrence's Chair was very close to May's. Somehow, he held May's two small white hands in one Of his own. Somehow, May's pretty head tested upon Paul's broad Bhoulder, and, somehow, a brilliant diamond ring was slipped upon May's finger. t And the stoma outside stormed on •< W. •• A year has passed away, yet in that«"»» oqsy «ittiug-room and before just such in* •ther cheery fire are seated Paul Lawrence H|d- -his wife. They are very happy, as Indeed they have teen all the year. "You remember one year turo to-night, asked Paul. * ': **Yes, Paul. I shall never forget. You *^#ftde me very happy then, and you have been so 4>ooil to me since. Do you know, Paul, I sometimes wonder if our love and oar lives will always run as smoothly as they now do? And very often I have asked Myself why you married me, of whom voti really knew, and even now know, no little." . And for answer Paul twined his arm jpfonml his wile and-kissed her. "I have you May, and I am «iMi«fi6d. I love you and therefore trust you. I shall Hf^tpnys love you aud aiiraj/a truBt you." Paul Lawrence's love and trust had neve* pet been put to the test: he had no means ot knowing the strength or weakness of •tther, and he was doubtless sincere when he said that be would alwayn love and trust his wife. Ten minutes later he had •ooasion to go up stairs, and in the en­ trance to hn wife's room he found a serap ft papal, dirty and torn, folded carelessly •na addressed to "Mrs. Lawrence." Opening it in a listless way, this ft what he read: "MAT I wonder if you still care for me? I IT seems a lifetime since I M* yon. I am so mis­ erable. and I do so loss to nee you jUtOOM. Give me one of the oia-time kisses to-night, dear. I dare not show myself, so meet nke 8 o'clock tor as soon after as possible) by your carriage-house. Pray do not let any one see you, neither give them, fn any way, room for sus­ picion. DICK." If some one had struck Paul Lawrence a terrible blow he could &ot have felt more stunned. At first he was amazed, then grieved, and then angry; not with a flaming, furious anger which would rage for a short time ana then spend itself, but a quietly in­ tense, dangerous anger, which would smoulder and burn until it reached a white heat. A few moments before he had held in his arms the woman whom he had made, his wife, whom he had loved and honored --his first and only love. Now he began "to hate her, only began, because his hatred was of that sort which would grow in in­ tensity. The first effects of the blow having passed away, Paul Lawrence did not lota his head. He did not propose to act like an excited boy aud spoil everything. He would wait and see the end--wait and know how unfaithfnl a trusted wife coujid be. And then-- # » • . • • Two hours afterward Paul Lawrence had secreted himself behind some shrubbery within sight of his own carriage-house. From his hiding-place he soon saw enough to persuade him that, although he had a wite, her love was not his. For he beheld that slender form enclosed in two strong arms; while, without any appearance of shyness or fear, his--Paul Lawrence' wife kissed, move than once, the maa with whom she had made this assignment. A few minutes passed away, and May entered the house by a door not often used in winter time. Her husband met her, his anger very nearly at a white heat. "Where have you been?" asked he. "To the carriage-house, Paul." "And why there?" May was confused. She had not counted upon meeting her husband so soon, and she told a lie. "I have mislaid my ]>ocket-book, and I thought I might possibly have left it in the carriage this morning." Paul, of course, knew that his wife lied, and she saw that Paul suspected the falsehood. But 6he did not anticipate her husband's next words: "Liar! I know where you have been and what you have been doing. See, here is the note be wrote you; take it, do; not want it. Let me think--you are my wife. I remember, we were married, and you are known as Mrs. Lawrence. Well, Mrs. Lawrence, you are a credit to your loo simple hus­ band." "Oh, Paul," besran Hay, whose tears were fast flowing. "Don't address me as 4Po«r," shouted the angry man. "I know I am your hus­ band, but don't speak to me or I may for­ get myself and strike a woman. Listen. We cannot share the same roof another hour. You may stay here and I will go away--or you can leave me here. Please yourself. You will have all the money you need, but never let me see your cursed, false face again. Do you understand? Which way is it to be?" "Paul, you nXUst listen," sobbed May. "He said I should say nothing to you, but--" "Curse you! Dare you tell me what he Bald? Great Heaven, if I had not been a fool or a coward I should have killed you both, as I saw you together behind the carriage-house! Mention him again and. by the living God, I will shoot you light here! Say, quickly, who leaves this house, you or I?" May shivered and tremblingly said: "Paul, you are unjust; but I will go away. It is your house, stay here. I thought I was too nappy. Good-bye, Paul." She waited, unconsciously almost, for him to say a word. But anger, jealousy, and hatred had changed Paul Lawrence into a demon. Silent and unmoved he watched Ms wife step out alone into the darkness, alone, to face the cold wintry night and the cold world. Yet, about midnight, Paul Lawrence re­ membered that happy night one year be­ fore, and once a sigh'escaped him. in. A miserable night. Bain and sleet fall­ ing through the darkness; gusts of wind rattling through the leafless branches of the trees. Outside, a woman--a lady well and warmly dressed, but, oh, so cold at heart, and so unhappy. Inside a darkened room and upon a bed a sick man--so sick that, humanly speaking, he cannot live to see the light of the coming day. The woman outside crept along by the wall of the house and timidly peered be­ tween the blinds. She saw the man lying upon his bed, his life trembling in the bal­ ances, and by his side, closely watching with professional keenness, she beheld the physician. Then, as she fancied the doctor raised his eyes toward the window where she stood, she shrank away. Throwing herself upon the low veranda, near by, she sobbed aloud. "Oh, Paul, Paul, my love, my husband! Why did von not trust me, Paul?" And for answer came nothing but the moan of the wind and the pitiless driving sleet. Poor May, she was heart-broken. One year had changed her from a beautiful wo­ man and a happy wife to a castaway. She had come to the eld house to-night, drawn by an irresistible impulse, just to see the place where her happiest days had been passed and then to go away and die. And now the longing was upon her, stronger than ever, to resume her old posi­ tion as wife and mistress. Why was she outside? Why was she not in that sick-room, nursing her husband- doing for him those many things which strangers, however kind, never think of? Heart-broken and sad, she had no pride; she almost forgot that Paul had sent her away with a curse, and, to regain her old place in his heart and home, would have begged his forgiveness on bended knee for the lie which, in her embarrassment, she had told him about her purse. She knew that Paul must be very sick, but hoic sick she never suspected, or she might have entered the house unbidden. As it was she only leaned her head to the side of the cold wall and sobbed. She was near the well-rememberd room, where Paul had asked her to be his wife Some one was in there now. She looked in. It was only Hannah, the Lawrence's old negro nurse, and she was down upon her knee8--praying. Poor Hannah, she was a faithful old servant, good and true as Bteel. Like most negroes, she was religious, even though her religion was not very intelligent to herself or others. And she was pray- ing-- "Oh, good. Lord, bring back de poor missus. Let her come home, dear Lord, an' comfort Mars' Paul. Dc. good Lord, bring home my poor Mars' Paul's wife, fpr Jesus' sake. Lord. Amen." And still, as she knelt with her hands tightly clasped, her eyes turned upward and her body swaying to and fro, the colored woman crooned, rather thafi sang, a sweet old negro hymn: soothed the poor woman listening outside in the cold, wet night, and she, too, prayed: "Lord, let me 'come in' to Pan'. And, if that is not to be, then take me home to thyself. Lord; for I am so weary and so tired of wandering alone in this unkind world." May had not noticed footsteps approach­ ing, but as the last word left her lips a well-known voice broke the silence of the night. "May! Way, what in the world are you doing here? You are cold and drenched through--and you are sick! What does it mean, May?" "Oh, Dick, hush! Let us go away--take me to the eity; this is not my homo any more." But, still standing in the rain, May told as much of her story a3 she cared to--as much as seemed to her necessary. And, nnder the nearest gas-lamp, the man took from his pocket that evening's newspaper and handed it to May, who read-- THE GRAYDON FORGERY CASE. Last evening Charles \ alden. cashier of the Second National Bank, committed suicide by blowing out his brains with a pistol. The dood nnui's affairs arc found to be in bad shape, though just how bad caunot be determined at Jnresent. In his desk was found a httor ad-Irossed to Col. Uraydon, one of the bank di­ rectors and a heavy stockholder. In thiB letter Maiden confessed to having forged Col. Gray- don's name to a check for a l«uvo amount, five yearn ago. At the time that forgery created a widespread interest, aud suspicion fell so heavily upon Kichard Worthington. Col. Gray- don's secretary, that a warrant was issued for his arrest, though he was never captured. It is needlees to add that all suspicion is now re­ moved from Mr. Worthington. "Oh, Dick! Thank God! lean tell him all now. He must know this very night, and you shall go with ine when I tell him." May took her companion's hand and led hitu quickly to the door of Paul Lawrencc's house. She did not wait to ring the bell, bnt walked right in to where Hannah still knelt. Hannah did not appear greatly sur­ prised. "Ah, missus," she said as tears of joy ran down her dark but pleasant face, "I 'spected you'd come. I axed de good Lord to bring you back to Mars' Paul, an' He's broughten you," It was not long before May was at Paul's bedside, forgetting her own weariness in her gladness at being once more near her husband. And when, as the gray dawn of the morning broke, the doctor told them that Paul Lawrence would live. May was happy, and only then consented to take some much-needed rest. During the day Paul recovered conscious- ness, and ins the afternoon May led her brother to his bedside. "I have come back, Paul, and thi« is Dick, my brother." The sick roan feebly held put bis wan hand and drew his wife to him, for he was glad at heart to have her back. And May bent over and kissed the husband who had so sadly wronged her. Then Dick Worthington withdrew, and we will do likewise, for where better can we leave husband and wife than locked in each other's arms? And, as we leave them I remember that somewhere in the Good Old Book I have read that "Jealousy is cruel as the grave;" but close by I have also read that "Love is strong as death." De massa ob do sheepfol' f Dat guard do Hheepfol' bin, Look out in der gloomerin' meadows Where de long nkht rain begin-- , So he call to de hirelin' shepa'd/ '* I "Is my sheep, is dey all eome in?" ? 4 "Oh, den," says de hirelin' shene'd. "Dey's some dey's black and thin, : ! And some dey's po' ol' weddat, Bnt de res' dey's all brung in." A Den de massa ob de shoepfel' Dat guard de sheepfol' bin Goes down in de gloomerin meadows When de long night rain begin- So he le' down de ba's ob do nheepfol', Callin' Bof, "Come in, come in. Denupt'ro' de gloomerin' meadows, .... Txo' de col' nipht rain an' win', .. , An' up t'ro' de gloomerin' rain-pat 1 • L Whar de sleet fa' piercin' thin, [ De po' los' sheep ob de aheepfol', H* • " Dey all comes gadderln' In. The quaint words, sung «o pathetically, A Master of Style. Gautier is also one of the writers who prove how largely the form of ex­ pression gives literature its charm and ideas their interest. "When the French say that the style is all-important, they come much nearer the truth than a class of English writers who regard it as unimportant. Gautier was a critic of much delicacy and justness of feel­ ing, but he had no new ideas to bring into the realm of art or thought. No man had le^ claim to be regarded as a philosopher or sage. His views of life were often intended to be amusing, and when so intended they usually fur­ nish amusement from their naivete and their simplicity. They please us, as the sayings of children please us, by the ig­ norance of life which they display. Gautier looked at life with the glance of a child, who finds in it much that is pretty, and is wholly unconcerned as to whether there is aught to existence but picking flowers and chasing butterflies. But the style made every page that he wrote full of charm. He said of himself that his was a style of adjectives. He thought that the complications of modern life demanded a supple and complex mode of expression that should seek words in all dictionaries, colors from all palettes, haamonies from all lyres; his , should be like the light of the setting sun, that reflects through burning clouds in varied hues. Few- men knew or used so many words. He studied the contents of the dictionary from A to Z. With an eye that saw ail things, and a command of words that few could equal, he excelled in a gor* geous richness of description. The things which the eye could see, he saw more clearly, he described more vividly, than any other writer of his day. Of the things not visible to the eye, the whole world could show no one else so oblivious. His power of perception was the more intense, because he had no conception of the things which were beyond his observation. He never dealt with the thoughts of men, their inner life, their mental or moral develop­ ment, with the mysteries of life, or the problems of the future. For him such questions had no existence. But all things in life, of which the impression could strike the optic nerve were to him things of joy. Spanish muleteers singing over the passes of the Pyrenees, Kussian Princes wrapped in sables' amidst the snows that enveloped far- roltmg steppes, the minarets of St. Soph .i, tlie sun setting over the lagoons of tiie Adriatic, where the cry of the gondolier breaks upon the traveler standing in the shadow of St. Mark's,-- such things he could describe with a vividness and richness which no one else could equal. He possessed also the two qualities which are found in almost all literature that can hope to survive its author-- imagination and humor. His imagina­ tion was a pictorial imagination, one that was excited by subtle resemblances of form more than of feeling; but it gave life to every line he wrote, from a poem on love to a government report Men like to be amused, and wit, more than thought, keeps books alive. Gau- tier's writings have not tl)e wit of the great works, which are read forever be­ cause they forever entertain, but he had the humor which delights in the delicate congruities and incongruities of words and things--the humor that always pleases and never pierces.-- Atlantic. Sweet Potatoes as Stock Feed. By most Northern people the sweet potato is eaten only sparingly, and, as it has to be l>ought often at a high price, it is regarded as a rather expensive lux­ ury. But it is very easily grown, and with equal care and culture will out- yield the common potato, especially on poor ground. Its rampant vines choke down weeds, making little culture nec­ essary. In some of the Southern States the sweet potato is planted for stock feed for jugs, which, when the crop is' •-| ri^>e, are turned in and do their ow harvesting. The sweet they contain il very fattening, but it does n#t mak* very solid pork. The vines of potatoe* are greedily eaten by cows, and have none of the poisonous qualities of oui common potato, which is q| ,a. family containing many poisonous plant#.-- Chicago Herald. GITKK UP1OBIHAP, Itafc Jgtlll Alive, urf Kww CtetnJa* Bis r»th«f»k Distributed Katste. (Philadelphia Times.] "A, «Mo involving a most intricate legnl problem, and all the features of a romano*, has been brought to the at­ tention of the Court at Huntington, PA. fy, £872 Jacob Stahley, a man of ecoentrie habits, died at his home on Shaver's Creek, leaving an estate worth $30,000. A protracted settlement of the estate reduced this amount to about $20,000, and over this sum a long and stubborn legal controversy enfeued. Stahley left a widow and a son. The widow had been his fifth wife, and the swi was supposed to be a child of his second wife, and was also named Jacob. The son left home early in life, and in 1860 he married. He and his wife went to Rebecca, Nebraska, where he was appointed postmaster, but some irregu­ larities occurring in connection with th mails resulted in his being sent to th< House of Correction at Detroit^ Mic' igan. He was extravagant and impro dent, and it was no doubt his father' knowledge of these qualities that i: duced him to make his will as he did. j During their absence in the West the will was made. It was executed in December, 1870, and the testator died two years later. It provided that his real estate should be rented and the rente paid annually to his son Jacob, and that, at the latter's death, the real estate should go to his heirs, including Mra Jacob Stahley. It also provided that the executor might sell the real estate at his discretion and place the proceeds at interest, and all the moneys at the death of the son Jacob should be equally divided among his heirs. In 1872 Stahley and his wife returned from the West, coming to Huntington to live. He had left oreditors in this State, and after his return, as his father's will did not provide that this annuity should not be liable for his debts, his creditors ob­ tained judgments against him, and at­ tached the money in the hands of the executor, so that he never received any of it. Being childless, Stahley con­ ceived the idea of obtaining an heir by adoption, and selected a boy 4c years of age, named George Leightner, son of a very poor man living in Stone Valley. Stahley continued to live with his family until February 13,1874, when he suddenly disappeared, leaving a note for his wife, in which he stated that he had determined upon suicide and that his body would be found at a designated spot in the Juniata River. His coat, hat, and other articles of apparel were found at the place indicated, and although the river was carefully searched for several weeks, no tidings of his body was ever heard of. No one could throw any light on the matter, and all accepted the suicide story except several of tne attaching creditors. As no witness was ever produced who had seen or heard of Stahley afterwards, the Auditor before whom the case was heard held that the evidence was sufficient to warrant the presumption of death, and in 1881, after the seven years'absence of her husband had expired, Mrs, Stahley took out letters of administration on his estate, and a distribution of the estate of old Jacob Stahley was made under his will equally between her and the adopted son. Mrs. Stahley soon after- ward married and located in one of the extreme western States, where she is still living. The adopted son, who is now in his fifteenth year, resides with his natural parents in this county. He expended a considerable portion of his share of the estate on his education. The strange sequel to this singular story remains to be told. In January last Stahley, whom every one regarded as dead, wrote to Mr. S. Lytle, of this city, under the assumed name of W. W. Williams. He was then living in Bos­ ton, but now resides in North Dighton, Mass. He made inquiries after the Stahley family and particularly about the estate of old Jacob Stahley. Mr. Lytle, who had been Stahley's attorney, recognized the handwriting, and during the correspondence which followed Stahley threw off his disguise and acknowledged his identity. He has never been away from Massachusetts, he says, since his mysterious disappear­ ance from this city thirteen years ago. In his letters he expressed repentance for his wayward course, but says that under his assumed name he has acquired a good reputaf ion. He no w desires that his father's estate, distributed between his wife and their adopted son, be re­ covered to himself, and to this end his attorney commenced the preliminary proceedings before Judge Furst. American Farmers. Very few people appreciate the Im­ portance of American farming interests. We hear the everlasting hum of our manufactories night and day, and every orator who talks about the splendor of this country refers in the most glowing language to our workshops and mills and looms and forges and trip-hammers. But the farmer is seldom heard of. He sits quietly in the back-ground by the side of his plow and threshing-machine as though he were of little account. We can easily recognize his value to the nation, however, by a few figures which may startle our readers unless they have already looked into the sub­ ject with some care. Of our entire ex­ ports 84 per cent comes from the ground and from mines, forestB, and fisheries, wliije only 16 per cent is the product of machinery. The cotton of the South and the grain of the West hold a dual control over our national prosperity. The one keeps the spindles of England busy, and the other feeds the world. £urope ^ has almost as much interest in the products of American soil as we have ourselves. A loss of these two crops for a single season would create a panic throughout the civilized globe. There are in America over 4,000,•000 farms, large and small. They cover 300,000,000 acres of improved land: their total value is something like $10,- 000,000,000. These figures are not, of course, comprehensible. They simply convey the idea of vastness of area and importance. The estimated value of the yearly products is between $2,000,- 000,000 and $3,000,000,000. What A merica takes out of the ground, there­ fore, b as much to do with the prosperity and happiness of the nation. What helps the farmer helps us all, and what hurts him hurts us all. His well-tilled acres are the heart of the republic, and each pulse drives the products of the country into every market on the planet. Con­ gress has been asked to establish an ex­ perimental farm in every state and ter­ ritory at a cost of $15,000 each. It will encourage the tillers of the soil and show them the results of methods which they cannot afford to test for themselves It will be money well spent, liy all means take good care of the farmers. --New York Herald. FROM Germany comes the report of a case in which a portion of intestine five long was removed successfully (that is, the patient recovered and stul lives). The operation was made neces- saty beoaose gangrene of the intestine had followed upon strangulated hernia. A similar operatiba is reported in New York papers, in which six feet of intes tine were cut out successfully. Thus we beat the German record.--Dr. Foot** Health Monthly. Panes Wfcaagdoodle Baxter. De subjeo'ter which I desire ter call yer attenshun dis ebenin' am gambollin' or de playin' ob keards. j I has reason ter dread alat some ob de male members ob dis heah. Blue Light Tabemackle ^tm in de habit ob playin' poker, an arterwardB dey lies ter dar wives when dey comes heme late. Dearly belubbed- sistern, when yer husban' comes home pertickerly late, an' says in his sleep, "I'se dun froze out--is aunty up?" don't yer fer er minit serpose he am a sufferin' for quilts, or am bodderin' hin lifiul about lh oeiore. and strictly exclusive Specialty Kxhil •iad attractions arvthlng that is not n tenting amusements, completely WI, YMMW "^'"what Ja, cooks his whittles in when he camps out. _ Don't yer berlieve him, for dat ar' ain't de right ineanin' ob jack pot-- so I has been informed by Deacon Snodgrass. Der am seberal kinds oh games. Some games am healthful an' some am sickly. ^ Hits my idee dat poker am one ob de sickly games, for Deacon Snod­ grass, in the amen corner, ober yonder, has ter sit up wid poker all nigh) long most ebery night in de week. Playin* poker am not confined to de lower elerments ob serciety, for I has been told dat at Washington City some ob de congressmen plays de game reg'- lar. Not long sence I read in one ob de papers dat Secretary Manning made a call for $10,000,000. An' yet dar am lots ob folks who am willin' ter play all night long wid a two-dollar limit--so I has been told by Deacon Snodgrass. De American game ob poker, like de gospel, hab spread all ober de cibilized world. I was conversin'wid a returned misshunary from de Souf Sea Islands, and he tole me I'd be 'sprised at de spread ob Christianerty among de heathens; dat all de natives ob de Souf Sea Islands hab lamed ter cuss in Eng­ lish an' play poker, an' dat one ob 'em skinned him outer sebenty-five dollars wid a cold deck. Eben de boys in dis heah age ob pro­ gress know more about poker den de boys ob prehistorical times. In former days de boy, in de lanwidge ob de poick, stood on de burnin' deck, whence all but him had fied, but nowerda^s de boy has de deck up one ob his sleeves, an' he draws out de face keards as he needs 'em ter make a full han'. Yer can tell by lookin' at. er man ef he plays poker or not, bnt I has always noticed dat when er man nebber w'ars an obercoat in winter because hits not healfy, hit am a 'spioious sarcum- stance. He sorter indercates dat he has been bluffin, on a weak han'. Dea­ con Snodgrass, yer didn't bring yer obercoat wid yer dis Sabbath morn. Brudder Sam Johnsing will please pass de hat. I hope yer will chip in liberally. I takes occasion ter remark dat de habit of flattenin' out buttons, while hit spiles de button, doese not in­ crease his awailibility as a circulatin' mejum.-- Texas Sif tings. " * How Tea Was Discovered. It is curious that while the CBmele claim a remote antiquity for nearly all the products of their long-arrested civilization, they give what to them is a comparatively modern date for the in­ troduction of tea into the Celestial Em­ pire. And even then they trace the origin of the article to a myth. They tell us that about the beginning of the sixth century, in our present reckon­ ing, one Darma, a prince of high prin­ ciple and great piety, landed among them and gave up his life wholly to devotion. He entered no temple, but/ living in the open air, gave day and night to prayer and the study of God's works in nature, his aim being to so purify his life that in the end he would become absorbed into the divine pres­ ence. He had an idea that if he could only conquer sleep so his' mind might be forever alive to the impressions and scenes around him, and in constant meditation on the unseen, the sublime purpose he had before him would surely be attained. The weakness of the flesh, however, was too much for this enthusiast. Worn out by his pro­ tracted vigil, he at length fell into a profound slumber; but instead of waking up with a sense of comfort and refreshment, it was in shame and humiliation that he opened his eyes, and in an agony of grief over his failure to keep awake he took a knife and cut off the offending eyelids. Returning after a time to the spot where this extraordinary penance was performed, he was amazed to find that the eyelids had taken root and developed into fra­ grant and beautiful shrubs. He plucked some of the leaves, and, eating them, felt like a man transformed. A new joy possessed his mind, a new courage animated his body; he had found an elixir that conquered sleep, and made persistent watchfulness a certainty. It was in this fashion, Bay the Chinese, that the tea plant came into existence. We do not find mention of tea in literature earlier than the sixteenth century. Certain Italian writers who flourished then speak of it, and one of them, anticipating Cowper, describes it as "a delicate juice which takes the place of wine, and is good for health and sobriety." Tea must then have found its way into Europe, and the Portuguese were probably the first to import it. It was not, however, until about a century 1 ater that it was brought into England. It was so much of a rarity that a gift of a few pounds of it to the sovereign in 1664 was con­ sidered a magnificent present In 1667 a considerable importation of the article was made into this country, the amount be in;,' nearly 5,000 pounds, but it found by no means a ready sale.-- Leedt (Eng.) Mercury. ' A Useful Servant. First Omaha Dame--You have a new girl, I see. Second Omaha Dame--Yes, and I'm so afraid she'll leave I don't know what to do. "Is she a nice cook?" "No, she burns up everything." • "Noat, I suppose?" 44Just the opposite." "Industrious, though, isn't she?"' "No, she won't take a step she doesn't have to." "But you like her?" "Yes, indeed. You see, she lost all her hair by sickness and has to wear a wig. Well, I got her a lot of cheap ones of different colors, and that Mrs. Stuckup over the way is almost crazy with envy because she thinks I have a whole re­ tinae of servants."-- Omaha World. THE train of thought leads the p£n- oil, and hence it is a led pencil. INBWW JMT In the year &88T nobody will be proud of his ancestors. There will be no claims of long descent, and people, in­ stead of constantly alluding to their forefathers, the pioneers of 1849, the passengers of the original Mayflower, will carefully avoid all mention of them. Why? Because when any such allusion is made tho nouveau riche will aBk to inspect the family allium, and the pho­ tographs of this centuty will simply be discreditable. Do you ever open the old album and look over the pictures ? Well, the old folks--your father and mother--always look well, for don't you know, parents are always old-fashioned. But there's your aunt, with a coal-scuttle bonnet and hoops, a&d her hair pasted down over her forehead and parted in the middle; with a kind of jaundice com- plexion and bright eyes, that show in their pupils nothing but the excited, in­ tense interest of trying to look into the camera for fifty seconds without wink­ ing. And you thought she was so pretty then, and you remember as a child when you -ent and told your mother you saw her being kissed by her beau at the garden-gate. Then there's her beau, who afterwards married her. He was so handsome, don't you know. Look at him. He wears a long frock coat with lapels that curl up under his arms; he has a flaming necktie and a shirt front showing down to where the ccat looks as if it were tied by a string tight around his waist. His trousers don't fit, and his face is all covered with yellow specks, Rndhe looks as if he had swallowed a fly and it was in dying agonies in his windpipe, while he daren't cough for fear of spoiling the picture. Then there's yourself. Well, that's not so bad. You know you were very pretty as a child, and you remem­ ber the dress, and--well--you're not quite so old-fashioned--to yourself--as the others. And you turn the page. There's Fred, whom you jilted. You look at him and you're glad you jilted him- He used to be so beautifully pensive. Now he looks like an idiot, and--well--you doubt if he ever could have been so horrid, any way. Then your husband comes along and turns the book over and says: "Do you re­ number that?" You close it on his fingers; it's fearful. You have an old- fashioned, shapeless, blaok silk gown that looks like gingham, or something with wide sleeves and big ruffles, and the skirt is gracefully bunched out like a half-exhausted balloon. And you've had the picture painted, and the beauti­ ful red of your cheeks has become mottled, and the neck is yellow, and the hair is a dirty-brown color, and yon've got hold most awkwardly of a green chair. And your husband wonders what he ever could see in you, until you show him his own picture. Then he shuts up suddenly, like a knife, don't yon know. --Peck's Sun. Recuperative Power. The resistance, active and passive, of the physical system to destructive agents is wonderful. Huge wounds heal up and leave nothing but a scar. This is true not only of the external muscular tissue, but of the internal or­ gans, including even the brain. A large part of a bone may be taken out, and the bone grow again. Deadly poisons may be swallowed, and the va­ rious eliminating organs will go to work to destroy their power, and often fully succeed. Millions of persons trans­ gress nearly every law of their physical system, and still live ont half their days, because of the unceasing strug­ gle of that other law--the law of recu­ peration--to undo the mischief, or to reduce it to a minimum. A bullet has been carried in the brain, or in some large bone or musole, for years without appreciable harm. In such cases nature builds a tough en­ closing wall around the intruding ob­ ject, thus preventing either friction or the solution of the lead and the ab­ sorption of the poison into the circula­ tion. The following case, the full details of which are given in a recent Lar.cet, strikingly illustrates the tolerance and recuperative power of the system: A soldier was badly wounded in the knee by the explosion of a rifle. After he had lain in the hospital for five months, during which time the joint constantly suppurated, and was several times laid open with a knife, the wound healed up. He became able to do his work as a messenger, and suffered no inconvenience from the injury for eleven years. Then an abcess formed, which dis­ charged for some eight years, when the surgeon succeeded in removing a small portion of the brass heel-plate of the rifle and bits of lead from the knee. The abcess remained open, occasionally discharging suiitll portions of brass, lead, and gritty matter for the next nine years, or until the summer of 1835. JL t that time, the surgeon of the hos­ pital, who then took charge of the case, succeeded in tracing the sinus, or open­ ing, back to a hard object in the oppo­ site side of the joint. Laying open the flesh at this point, he found and re­ moved the offending cause, which was one-half of a flattened and misshapen bullet. In a few weeks the man was able to walk with little inconvenience, and re­ turned home with the prospect of per­ fect restoration. Even in this case, jagged as was the bullet, the cavity, which was about an inch in diameter, was lined with a firm capsule. Children Half Price. An Austin gentleman, who had lost one of his children, was presented with a bill by the doctor. "I see by your bill that yon charge $20 for ten visits while you were treat­ ing my child," he remarked. "Certainly, $2 is the usual prioe for a visit," responded the doctor. "Yes, but man alive, the child was under 10 years of age. I could have got her into a circus for half prios^r*** Texas Sifting#. Like Falling Stars. Diamonds will soon be as common as cobblestones. The yield of the South African fields is said to be at present something like a ton a month. We publish this information for the benefit af hotel clerks, bartenders, and fifth- class actors. If they do not soon realize on their pins and rings and shirt-studs they will find themselves moneyless in a cold world, which cares nothing for honesty and genius if not combined with cash.--Sydney Bulleti^,- Tender and True. ̂* Wife--And you will not forget me, darling, while I am away? You will always think of me every day while I am gone, won't you, dear? Husband---Yes, my love, I am sure I shall. The bills I get will keep you constantly in mind.--Somerville Jour' nal. ON seeing a house being whitewashed a boy asked, "Ma, if you please, are you going to shave that house." FBXK lunch for callers--Sponge cake. A MAN of deeds--Hie country re­ corder. - . * A sToppWMrp-dKTfcHi H an *i-*ptirt in its way. :,r'- "WHAT would the world .do without alcohol ?" asks an exchange.. Dp with­ out, probably.--New York Graphic. THE life of the book-agenfc|a fall of wormwood and galL The wormwood ia barely perceptible. -- Merchant Traveler. IT is a question whether1 a lhati can ever be an angel. But if men cooldn't there is a general belief iKat Nfcromen wouldn't want to be. -- Sotkhi'ville Jov.rnal. ' •' ; "IF misfortune overtakes you, iAnfle," advises a poet.. That's all well enough, but suppose misfortune overtakes you in a strictly prohibition town lington Free Press. A MAINE paper inquires:., . AIs [tiiere more money in heels , than in heads?" Yes, in politics, where the heelers get all the money and the head met} all the honors.--Washington Star, A PHILADELPHIA firm has published a book called "How to Become a Pub­ lic Speaker." In the interest of suffer­ ing humanity that book onght t? be suppressed at once.--Boston Post , , A "SEASONABLE-HINT" column says that warm soapsuds is one of the best insect washes. It is well to know this. Insects lose half their unpleasantness when kept nice and clean. Save your suds.--Life. A SHEET of paper seventeen inches wide and more than seven miles long was recently made at Watertowh, N. Y. The leading plumber of the place had a bill to make out.--Pittsburgh Chron­ icle TelegrajjlL. MRS. IKENSTEIN--Ron mit der doctor ker vick, Solomon! Ter papy is svallowt a silver tollar! Mr. I.--Vos it dot von I left on ter dable? Mrs. I.--Yes, dot vos id; hurry mit der doctor. Mr. I.-- Don't ged oxcited, Rajel, it Vos gouder- veid. A WILD mountain blizzard broke loose in Dakota and started off whoop­ ing like a Comanche Indian until it met a Chicago real-estate agent, when it tucked its tail between its legs and sat down and whine'd like an applicant for a. postmastersliip. -- Newman Inde­ pendent MR. JEFFERSON was at one fa'M^ » member of the Legislature and did much good work while there. He was instrumental in abolishing the laws rel­ ative to entail and primogentiture. He also greatly improved the existing game laws, making it a felony to turn a jack from the bottom of the pack.--Bill Nye. THE course of true love may be traced in the eight letters produced at the hearing of a breach-of-promise case. The first letter commenced, "Dear Mr. Smith," then followed "My dear John," then "My darling John," "My own dar­ ling Jack," "My darling John," "Dear John," "Dear Sir," and all was over. Volumes could not say more. ALL who remember the late Rev. William Adams, D.D., will be able to appreciate the gtace with whioh, at the Pan-Presbyterian Council in Edin­ burgh, he rebuked his British Presby­ terian brethren for their almost num­ berless divisions and subdivisions. "Brethren," said he, "you are R. P'tt, and I. P's., and U. P's. Why don't yon call yourself split peas and ^be' done with it?" THERE is a story of a Chicaigd man who lost his brother by death, and called on an undertaker. He asked the undertaker how much it would cost to keep the body on ice till after the funeral, and on being told the price, said, "I suppose you will give a dis­ count. My brother had his feet froaen before he died. He was caught out in a blizzard." The undertaker gave th4 bereaved mourner 20 per cent, off, on aocount of the feet.--Peck's Sun. THE APPLE-BLOSSOM, A little appU-blosBom fluttered down . And lightly came between the lipii of ' Who just that moment would have 'changed a kiss. But for the warning that the light braiam blew. She started back, and with a nervous:iang£r. >. Refused his kiss, and in her rosy hand v Gayly held up the dainty cup of pink J Loosed and set floating by some fairy And so she kept it for a little while, ..: And in a few short, fleeting months from Sho sent it to him on his wedding-day,' Writing, "An emblem of-tha be arte of meo." --Gertrude H. Ring. ( ERBKINE once was prosecuting a stage-coach proprietor in behalf of a gentleman who had suffered from an upset. "Gentlemen of the jury,"' said Erskine, in opening the case, "the plaintiff is Mr. Beverley, a respectable merchant of Liverpool, and the defend- ent is Mr. Urison, proprietor of tho Swan with Two Necks in Lad lane--a sign emblematic, I suppose, of the num­ ber of necks people ought to possess who travel by his veliicles."--The Ar- ggnaut. . • Largest Farm in the World, , In the extreme southwest corner of Louisiana lies the largest producing farm in the world. It runs 100 miles north and south and twenty-five miles east and west, and is owned and oper­ ated by a syndicate of northern capi­ talists. Their general manager, J. B. Watkins, gives an interesting account of this gigantic plantation,which throws the great Dairy tuple farm in Dakota into the shade completely. "The million and a half acres of our traot," Mr. Watkins said, "was purchased in 1883 from the State of Louisiana and from the United States Government! At that time it was a vast grazing land for the cattle of the few dealers of the neighborhood. When I took posses­ sion I found over thirty thousand head of half-wild horses and cattle. My work was to divide the immense tract into convenient pastures, establishing stations or ranches every six miles. The fencing alone cost in the neighbor­ hood of $50,000. The land I found to be the best adapted to rice, sugar, corn, and cotton. All our cultivating, ditch­ ing, etc., is done by steam-power. We take a tract, half a mile wide, for in­ stance, and place an engine on each side These engines are portable, operate a cable attached to four plows, and under this arrangement we are able to plow thirty acres a day with only the labor of three men. Our har­ rowing, planting, and other cultivation is done in a like manner. In fact, there is not a single draught-horse on the en­ tire place. We have, of course, horses for the herders of cattle, of whioh w<e now have 16,000 bead. The Southern Pacific Railroad runs for thirty-six miles through our farm. We have three steamboats, operating on the wa­ ters of our own estate, upon whieh there are 300 miles of navigable wa­ ters. We have an iee-honse, a'biuak, a ship-yard, and arice-miil." ' T : - f.\ A NEWSPAHEB correspondent: spaali of having lately seen Gladstone when "he was immersed in thought and ^fhtrd in perspiration." . "il