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^ * v " • - • • ? > _ --r- '••-•'•' •., v-.--"•• .••:•• . v.-. . .-•-•'• "•••:*. * '. • ;.• :v' ' " •••«•% ' - _ ••••• -,.• 4 v„ euy J. Yiir isLTKE, M-HENRY, : : ILLINOIS- Xf hoMai^FTik i^kE cotfiep "** JKNUTE! Jennie! Jennie! Where in the world can Jennie be? She crossed the meadow an hoar «i_ What ails the girl that she linger* so? "SQte sun goes down in the Crimean 3»e tired day prepares for rest. And the laggard momenta slowly j But brine no news of the trunnt lam. ' *" Wliatail* the girl?" The sober cows, * Stopping along the lane to browse, Mav look in vain from side to side. -* r And wait for the voice of their pretty goida. -For far behind, by the pasture gate, . :?* •• •Jennie and, Jamie forget "t» late-- , Forget the eo'vre, and the milking hour! W i And everything else save I^vesaweet pdwefc 'The lengthening shadows, unheeded fall $. ' TH® whip-poor-will with his plaintive call, ~ Tne gathering dews, and the darkening sky * •Ail warn in vain as the minutes fly. 'Twice and thrice does mother go "To the farm-house door ere Bhe hears the low •Of tne cows as they trample up the lane. <&nd the ring of the cow-bells clear and plain. Bat presently comethe laggard feet Of Jennie and Jamie. Oh I shyly oweet . Are the gir! s blue eyes as aho stands belMl The mother who uieeto lis.i al> ium iivoxt • Where did you go, my child?" "17--^ Only after the cows, vou know." . v . Then whispered Jamie: " Whatever yosdo, Don't tell ner that--I went after you!" \ --Harper'8 Weekly. m 4l biter story. .>T I WAS faiu to supplement my income, pending the time when my learning, eloquence and acute instinctive grasp of difficult cases in all their bearings, . should have brought the British solici­ tor to my feet--with such literary work as I could obtain. Having an uncle an editor, and two •college friends successful journalists, my efforts were not doomed to that dis­ appointment which awaits the vast ma­ jority of young men and women, who are tempte<J by some early magazine acceptance to engage in that great, never-ending competitive examination, comprised in the endeavor to earn a living out of periodical literature, and I got aus much occupation for my pen as I could perform without neglecting my legal studies and prospects. Among other pickings, I received a guinea a Week for an article in the Blank Review. Ostensibly it was bhe review of a book, but in reality the said book was the ex­ cuse or text for an essay which was in­ tended to be witty, but was too often, I fear, merely flippant. "1 do not care for a dull account of the book you review; all I want is a papfer," said the editor. \nd I did my best. One otgpf most factitious papers, I remember, was written apropos of a little volume of poems issued in the or­ thodox green cover, and entitled "Echoes of the Heart," by "Dora." • I did not take the trouble to read them, but just dipped in here and there with­ out even cutting the leaves, to get points for funny J'copy." I found one -couplet, for example, in which girl was made to rhyme with curl, whereupon I . ̂ spelled girl,gurl, throughout the article I called " Dora" a gurl, drew an imagin­ ary picture of her as a gushing young thing of fifty, with spectacles, and an ink- stained thumb, and suggested that her proper occupation was the artistic cooking of a sheep's heart, rather than writing nonsense aboufc the echoes of her own. I inquired how a heart can have an echo, and insinuated that the Gurl of the Echoing Heart must be a ventriloquist; with a great dea.1 more flippant stuff of the same kind, winding up with an affectedly serious diatribe agaiht poet^ters of both sexes, and the publishers who print their effusions; a disgraceful article which was exactly to the taste of the nil admirari class, from which the readers of the Blank Review were principally recruited. It was during this early period of my career and at the season when London is dullest, that I met my old college friend Sinclair in the Strand and natur­ ally asked what brought him to town in the autumn. . " I have oeett ordering a dog-cart in Long Acre," he replied;, "but, why are you not diit'for a holiday?" " I have nowhere particular to go to, and no one to go with me. As has been often, said, London when empty ha? more people in it than any otner M place has when full," said I. "Be- side if I went out I should be paying ' for my empty chambers all the time as welt as for my temporary lodgings." " Ay, ay; but still a breath of country air does a man a world of good. And you can afford it, you have made a start, and I expect tne two ends meet, eh?" "Yes, but I am waiting till they overlap tyefore I indulge in luxuries." " Look here," said Sinclair, after a pause, "I wish you would come back with me to Aiteham this evening." ; "You live at Aiteham now?" " Yes, I have taken a furnished house there till the end of September. Rather a pretty place on the banks of the Thames; lawn sloping to the edge of the river: perch and pike, they say--I have never caught any: Boat house and all that. My wife tooK a fancy to the place, and it is just the same to me as any other until the hunting begins." 44 Is it far?" "Oh, no, near Fangbourne; we shall run dowu in a couple of hours. It is not any compliment to ask you, I own, for we are monstrous dull. But you have as good as owned that you have nothing to keep you in London, and it would be very good-natured if you would come and take ah oar." "Take an oar?" " Yes; I am rather tired of sculling thosetwo about every afternoon by myself. Some of the girls in the neigh­ borhood have takeu to rowing them­ selves, and letting their husbands, brothers, etc., steer, but my women­ folk don't seem to see it." " You speak in the plural." "Yes; my wife, you know, must have some one to speak to." 0 i.*-*. "She has you--" 11 ^ " Fooh! it is easy t& see -that you have no experience. Why, we have been hiarried nearly two years! I can't talk ol furbelows, and my wife can't talk o\ hqpting. She wants another woman to talk to and so Miss Filmer is staying with us. And I want a man to talk to, and you will be he, won't you? There is a quiet little room opening out into the garden, where you shall do any reading and writing you want, undisturbed all the morning. Come." He led me to' my chambers, made me pack my portmanteau, and had me down to the station and in a railway carriage almost before I had made up my mind whether I would go or not. "You have not forgotten how to row, have you?" he asked, as we rushed through the country. "No, 1 fancy not; but I'm not in the condition I was when we rowed in our first boat during the May races. What time do you dine, by the way?" " We never dine." "No!" - •„ " No. We breakfast and lunch, and to on the water when the latter meal as been digested, and come back to a cold spread when we have had enough mist and moonlight. It is very ro­ mantic, I assure you." " No doubt," said I, thinking that I would have a pressing engagement to tear me back to town very soon. "Do you know what nightmare is?" " Not very well: I saw a picture of one once, in an old almanac, I think." The clutch of the metropolis is never shaken off while you remain in the rail­ way carriage winch started from it; nay, the turmoil of the streets still sings in your ears for several minutes after you have left the station. We had almost reached Sinclair's villa before the sweet odors of grass and flowers got fair hold of my senses, or the strange stillness of everything ceased to confuse me. It was a delicious place; the house was white and wide and low, and cov­ ered with jessamine and honeysuckle, and shaded on three sides by a broad veranda, upon which the French win­ dows of the'sitting-room opened. The stables and kitchen were out of sight and smell somewhere; the lawn was. cool with trees, and the bright swiftly- flowing river shown at the bottom of it. A lady sat in a cane camp-chair in the veranda, reading the paper; she heard our voices and rose, and I was intro­ duced to Mrs. Sinclair. My friend had made a good selection; she was hand­ some, well-dressed, courteous, hospita­ ble, without knowing it. By which, as I cannot read people's hearts, I of course mean that she gave one the im­ pression of not knowing it. She rath­ er patronized me as being a benighted bachelor, after the manner of matrons of twenty. It was about five o'clock in the after­ noon, and she wanted to have dinner for me in a couple of hours, but, of course, I would not let them alter their domestic arrangements, so I had a light snack then and there, after which 1 declared my readiness to take to the water. Passing out onto the lawn, accord­ ingly, I found another lady with Mrs. Sinclair, and was made acquainted with Miss Filmer, a quiet, retiring lit­ tle girl, rather nice looking when you came to notice her particularly, which one might very well neglect doing when there were several other girls present. Mrs. Sinclair called her Daisy, and a most appropriate name it was for her. The boat-house, which was also ar­ ranged as a convenient bath-house, giv­ ing promise of an early plunge next morning, contained an out-rigger, a canoe and a skiff. The latter, which was afloat and only fastened by a pad­ lock, was loosened; the ladies seated themselves in the stern, Mrs. Sinclair taking the tiller, and as her husband remembered that I had rowed on the stroke-side at the University I was placed on the after-thwart, in easy con­ versational contact with them. When Sinclair wanted to join in the talk he had to raise his voice and to demand repetition of any laughter-causing ob­ servation with a 44 What's that?" I had not rowed for some time and my hands were rather tender, but 1 took it easy and saved them. It was a calm and glowing evening, the scenery was that which I like best, the conversation of the ladies was by no means of furbelows, as Sinclair had put it, but clever, natural and interest­ ing, so that I iwas enjoying myself thoroughly and no longer calculated on an early departure. " Are you talking about books?" cried Sinclair from tne bows. "Mind what you say, Kate; Jones there is an authority," "No, no," said I; "I am only a hanger-on to journalism." " Oh, I am so glad that you are a lit­ erary man. I do so want a really good opinion about a certain book. Miss Filmer, you must know, is an author- ess.^' - " Oh, no, Kate!" "You are, Daisy, and you are a great deal too diffident. Diffidence is a great bar to success, is it not, Mr. Jones?" " In my proper profession, the law, it certainly would be fatal," I replied, laughing. "I think that in authorship a little confidence is just as well. But what is your work, Miss Filmer--a novel?" "No, though I am accused of diffi­ dence, I was so ambitious as to write verses. But I was rightly punished for my temerity, and their worthlessness was fully exposed." " The most disgraceful, the most un­ manly, cowardly attack that was ever penned!" cried Mrs. Sinclair, indig­ nantly. " Some of the poems are beau­ tiful; all show originality and talent; you shall see them for yourself, Mr. Jones, and judge." "Oh, no, please!" said Miss Filmer, who looked really distressed. " I hope you will not refuse me the pleasure of reading them," said I. "She cannot; you shall have my <£>py," cricd Sinclair, from behind me. "1 am no judge of poetry myself, but I thought them capital, and so did the rmhlisher--rmilly. you know, because he printed them without making any charge." " I am afraid he has lost money, poor man," sighed the poetess. "Oh, Miss Filmer! What was the name of the review that attacked vou?" "The Blank Review," replied Mrs. Sinclair for her friend. " Did you ever hear of it?" "Yes," said I, as carelessly as I could, but a bit of a lump began to rise n my throat; "I have seen the period ical. Did Miss Filmer publish wider her own nameF' 44 No, she took the nam de plume of 'Dora' fortunately; I think she would hardly ever have got over the attack, if it had not been for thfe shelter of a pseudonym." I'Mr. Jones will think me very thin- skinned," said Miss Filmer, with a smile; "but 1 do not think that I should have taken any fair criticism of my book, however severe, to heart. Indeed, some were kind and some were harsh, and I set them against one another. But this particular notice seemed to be dictated by personal malice, for it sought to turn me into ridicule, as well as my work. It made me feel as if I had done a bold and unwomanly thing, and certainly on red me forever of au­ thorship. No success would compen­ sate one for being made the subject of such attacks." If I give you my real name, which of course is not Jones, you would recog­ nize the fact that I am not generally considered deficient in that useful for­ ensic quality--er--suppose we call it brass. Even in those early days I was not easily put out of countenance^ But on that occasion I did wish that the bottom of the boat would open, and a frientily barbel, of whale-like propor­ tions, abiiorb me quietly. For once in my life I did feel most ut­ terly and intolerably ashamed of my­ self. That pretty little, delicate, gentle girl, so refined, so sensitive--oh! it was just as if I had struck a blind man/ or an infant! 44 That is the old form," gasped Sin­ clair. 44 But I--say--you know--we have--to come--back--again." 44 You will use my poor husband quite up if you row so fast," said his wife, with a smile that had a touch of anxiety in it. And, in truth, trying to escape from my reflections, and not aware what I was about, I had set him a racing strcke, and we were tearing through the water at a grand pace. I easiea at once, and presently we turned; I was so thoroughly disconcerted, how­ ever, that I made my blistered hands an excuse for changing places, and to shifting the brunt of conversation to Sinclair. Before we retired that evening I bor­ rowed the volume of poems. It was indeed the 44 Echoes of the Heart" which I had treated so unkindly; but why did they let her choose such a pro­ voking title? I read every line before going to bed, and felt more ashamed of myself as I proceeded. It was not merely the merit of the verses which rebuked me, though they were more than meritorious, but the kindliness, the broad charity, the flashes of eloquent admiration, excited by all that is most noble in humanity, snould have guar­ anteed the book against insult, at all events. I passed a bad night over it, but recovered my self-possession in the morning, and at breakfast expressed myself in terms which brought color into the cheeks and light into the eyes of the poetess. As for the hostile critic, I alluded to hiin in a way which prevented the ladies ever mentioning his libel again, for fear, as Sinclair told me, lest I should find out who the cul­ prit was and become engaged in some personal conflict with him. That I might be spared no element of remorse, Miss Daisy proved to be an orphan and E'oor; her father,-a retired Colonel, aving fallen into the trap which catches so many old officers, and be­ come Director of some company which broke down and swallowed his little property. However, I managed to calm myself down, and tried to make amends by be­ ing as agreeable as I could to the young lady I had unwittingly injured. It was rather a dangerous operation, consid­ ering that I was several years short of thirty, and she was still younger, but it had the fascination about it which dangerous games often have. What with bathing, boating and making amends, a fortnight slipped away pres­ ently, and when! returned to town at the end of that time I could scarcely be called a free man.--GasselVs Magazine. * . - *£t " Fashion Notes. THE newest boots for ladies are made of patent leather, and the uppers match the dress. These are also buttoned up With small silver and gold buttons. The newest round nat is called 44 Le Petit Due," after the opera of that name. It is somewhat like a man's hat, taaly lower, and the brim is turned up. Dresses.for summer watering places are appearing, and are of all those pretty, cheap materials which can be made" up picturesquely; often the trim­ mings cost more than the material. Madras cloth, with gav plaids or Stripes, is trimmed with colored em­ broidery, and is, as it was last year, a favorite for seaside places. Oxford linen and Vichy cloth are also made in­ to nobby suits for the seashore. Grenadines are trimmed with quan­ tities of French lace, amidst which balls of jet and other hanging trim­ mings of cut jet are thickly set. White dresses are much trimmed with tassels made of white satin bugles. Gold and silver are mixed with every­ thing; bonnets and hats are stiff with them; gold bugs and beetles are thrown indiscriminately over flower and feath­ er trimmings, and feathers droop with the weight of their golden tips. Pins for scarfs assume all sorts of fantastic shapes; they are always long and narrow, and ladies draw thoir own designs, or call upon their artist friends for them, as they used to do for mono­ grams, and many eccentric ideas are mingled. Flower bonnets are still worn, but, though the wreaths on them are less heavy, they shine with the mixture of gilded beetles settling airong the flow­ ers; the wreaths are laid on puffings of tulle, which generally matches the color of the flowers, and the diadem is iiot so hich m of late, and «loo6^ far­ ther bac£ Dresses made up over silk are quite startling by their contrasts; turquoise blue grenadine over dark green silk, the euges of the dress trimmed with blue lace, which shows the silk through; olive green over dark blue, the maize- colored India pongee over deep red, pockets, cuffs and collar lined with red. These are carriage dresses, and car­ riage wraps are of India pongee lined with some bright-colored silk. The newest buttons for dresses are postage stamps. One cannot be amiss with postage-stamp buttons, bank-bill sleeve buttons and the coin of all Na­ tions about one's neck. An old lady, an American, of inborn puritanical ideas, was lately shocked at 'he wish expressed by her daughter to have her dress buttoned up with the French postage-stamp buttons, taken, as this dear old soul surmise^, from some of the heathenish pictures in the Louvre, as if thpy had no good men in France whose faces they could use for thjs pur­ pose. If the fashion was imperative let her daughter use American postage stamps; she had no objection to her having two rows of those, even if they were* expensive. Fancy the head of the Father of his Country sold by the dozen to decorate the front of a prin- cesse polonaise! To such base uses do we come.--N. F. Evening Post. Youth's Department. ' Jfr. Lahonchere oi DafeHtfe* •U. ••'••• ' . tstv.;. I WAS once ordered to proceed to Stockholm, and at this town I found favor with my superiors for the curious rfioonrt fKof a nU J -- --. a . . A vuttUCUKCU ftU AU8tn&Q Charge d'Affaires. Never was there a more absurd affair. There was an En- giishman who had been challenged by a Swede, whom he declined to light. A lew days later the Englishman went with my Minister to a box in the thea­ ter. The next day at a club the Aus­ trian Charge d'Affaires said before me and others that Englishmen had odd ideas of honor, and more particularly English Ministers. I replied that Englishmen were not so silly as to fight duels, and that the English Minister was not a dishonorable man for ap­ pearing in a theater with his country­ man. As it was generally felt that I ought to challenge this Austrian, I 44 put myself in the hands" ot the French and Prussian Ministers. A few hours later my seconds came to me, I expected that they were going to tell me that the Austrian haa apologized. Not at all. With a cheerful smile they observed: " It is arranged tor to­ morrow morning--pistols. At seven o'clock a. m. they reappeared. Their countenances were downcast. "I have lost the mold for the bullets for my dueling pistols," observed the Prussian, " and we had to borrow a pair of pis­ tols, for whose accuracy of aim I can­ not vouch." This inwardly rejoiced me, but of course 1 pretended to share in the regret of my seconds. We sat down to an early breakfast. 44 You are young, I am old," said the Frenchman; " would that I could take your place." I wished it as sincerely as "he did, but I tried to assume an air of rather liking my position, and I grinned a ghastly grin. Then we started for the park. The opposition had not arrived; but there was a surgeon who had „ been kindly requested to attend by my sym- Eathizing friends. 44 An accident may appen, observed the Prussian; 44 do you wish to confide to tne any disposi­ tions that you may desire to be carried out after?" and he sighed in a hor­ ribly suggestive manner. No, I said; I had nothing particular to confide; and as I looked at the surgeon 1 thought what an idiot I was to make myself the target for an Austrian to aim at. in or­ der to establish the principle that En­ glishmen had a pcrfect right to decline to fight duels. There was a want of logic about the entire proceeding that went to my heart. To be killed is bad enough, but to be killed paradoxically is still worse. Soon the Austrian and his seconds appeared. I never felt more dis­ mal in my life. The Austrian stood apart. I stood apart. The surgeon already eyed me as a 44 subject." The seconds consulted; then the Frenchman stepped out twelve paces. He had very short legs, and they seemed to me shorter than ever. After this came the loading of thB pistols. Sometimes, I thought, seconds do not put in the bullets; this comforted me, but only for a moment, for the bullets were rammed down with cheerful energy. By this time we had been placed facing each other. A pis­ tol was given to each of us. 441 am to give the signal," said the Prussian; 441 shall count one, two, three, and then at the word fire, you will both tire. Gentlemen, are you ready?" We both nodded., 44 One, two, three, fire!" and both our pistols went off. No harm had been done. I felt considerably re­ lieved, when to my horror the French­ man stepped up to me and said: 441 think that I ought to demand a second shot for you; but mind, if nothing oc­ curs again I shall not allow a third shot." "Ye-es," I said; so we had a second shot with the same result. Knowing that my Frenchman was a man of his word, I felt that I might at no risk to myself display my valor, so I demanded a third shot! The seconds consulted together; for a moment I feared that they were going to grant my request, and I was greatly relieved when they informed me that they con­ sidered that two shots were amply suf­ ficient. I was delighted, but I pretend­ ed to be most unhappy, and religiously kept up the farce of being£n aggrieved person. Now, there is this curious thing about duels, which, I suppose, accounts for principals taking things so quietly. Before the duel one feels most uncomfortable, to judge by my experi­ ence, but when one has to fire one is so engaged in listening for the signal that it does not occur to one that one may be hit. A good shot would, I take it, be able to take a deliberate aim un­ disturbed by any nervous trepidation from his target also aiming at him, be­ cause the nervous trepidation, however strong it may be beforehand, by some curious disposition of Nature, disap­ pears when you are firing. Much the same thing occurs in battle. The un­ pleasant moment is, according to the experience of soldiers, that just before going under fire, or when the fire is not returned. So soon as soldiers are themselves firing, one idea excludes an­ other, and their minds afe so occupied with what they themselves are. doing that they forget the danger.--Lvnwm Truth. --It being proposed to erect by pub­ lic subscription a monument over the grave of Charlotte Cushman, the Utica Herald remarks thatshe left over $50C,- 000, and made no appropriation for s monument; nor did she leave a cent for charitable purposes. Conclusion, the heirs can afford to .put up a monu­ ment, . , ' ri JOHNNY* ni * WHEN Johnny first wan Bent to school, He didn't know a single rale. But mo ed about, and made a noise. Distnrbing all the girls and boys, >'• ' He knew hie letters pretty well, But couldn't read and couldn't saUltru And dreaded sitting still, as if ... * . He~thonght he might be frozen Hev rrigs'led so upon his seat. 3 . * And made such noises with his fodfc ' " And hands, the teacher said, at laiL one d really have to tie him fast! * 5 At this lie bellowed like a calf, - ^ ' Which made the other children For they imagined, everyone. That Johnny was just making fufe Poor J oh liny G&t i& eose disgrace," , To be sure, these disagreeable mate­ rials have some pretty rough handling before they come out in their new ^]orsj • The old boots, for instance. They do not step from the gutter into the jelly kettle, by any means, They jgo through a long process of washing jand soaking in lye and smoking with (sulphur, and steaming and boiling be­ fore they come out white and deUeate ^jand fit for the table. With not a smile upon his face, \ ; ».v And, having no more tears to weep, ; He sucked his thumb and went to sleep! --Josephine Pollard, in Youth's Compat-U •oa. sk Trae Story Abovl Miee. I AM sure that all my little readers are ready for a story about mice, for children always like those bright little fellows with their smooth gray fur, their bright eyes shining from their sockets like diamond beads, and their curious ears always listening for the sound of the footstep of an enemy. Once there was a dear little boy who lay very ill of scarlet fever; to be sure he was a rich little boy, his home was a very beautiful one, and in his sick room was every comfort and every nice thing that could be thought of, while a loving mother and sister constantly cared for him. But all these luxuries could not atone for his suffering, and little Will would gladly have changed places with the barefoot boy who tended the cows in his father's lot, and who lived in a very plain house. Now Will was a very patient little fellow, and tried hard not to complain of his aching head, or of the disagree­ able medicine which caused his poor mouth to smart so dreadfully, but after a few days the burning fever seemed to gain a stronger hold upon him and he became delirious. Night and day he talked, talked; and night and day he saw strange sights which no one else Could see. Strange to say, he constantly fancied that he saw white mice, with their little pink eyes, running across the floor, or, worse yet, creeping over his bed; and every few moments he would jump up and saying, 44 There he is!" would make a vigorous' grab at the bed­ clothes, and then would cry because he could not catch the mouse which he thought was there. But one night, as his sister sat by his side he quickly touched her arm and whispered, laughing at the same time: "See those funny little mice drinking my lemonade;" at first his sister did not look, supposing it to be a fancy of his, but when will again begged her just to look once., she turned around, and what do you think she saw ? On the mantel-piece stood a goblet, half-filled with lemonade, and perched onto the side of the glass, hanging to its rim by his hind-feet, was a wee gray mouse;.but, funnier still, there was another mouse standing on the mantel, and holding the tail of the first mouse in his teeth, lest he should fall into the glass and meet the awful death of being drowned in lemonade. And then, as Will and his sister silently watched them, the old mouse pulled down the little fellow, thinking he had had enough, and he himself climbed up the glass, hung on the edge and drank his fill, while the little wee mouse carefully held his tail between his teeth, just as the older one had done for him. But it was so funny that Will oould not help laughing,* and a half-sup­ pressed giggle from him made mousy start and jump down from the glass as nimbly as a sailor and hie away home, taking his little son with him.--Helen Heathy in Christian Union. Where They Come YOU'LL bejshocked, 1 fear, when I tell you that your doll came out of a rag bag, her curls from the back of a goat, and her elegant china tea-set out of a mud-hole. But what will you say when I tell you that your jelly is made out of old boots, and your delightful perfumery from horrid-smelling coal tar. You don't own all the made-over things in the family, either. Johnnie's new beaver-cloth over-coat was worn out on the back of a beggar, and per­ haps even played the part of a scare­ crow in some farm-yard before it be­ gan to come into the world again; and the 44 table gelatine" which every one of the family loves to eat, once did du­ ty as skin on the back of a rat. It is really wonderful to trace things back, and see where they come from, and which has reason to boast of its ancestors. Queer stories you would hear if the things around you could tell their history. There's your tatting shuttle. It once made itself useful as a bone in a horse, while the ivory dice in the backgammon board adorned the jaws and crushed the oats of another of the race. The pearl of your paper knife lined the shell house of a modest little crea­ ture at the bottom of the sea, while mamma's shell comb was the comfort­ able roof over a sea tortoise. Your guitar strin&rs were indispen sable to the internal comfort of some poor pussy or unfortunate sheep, and your piano would be but a dumb wood­ en box without some of the internal arrangements of a horse. Your nice hair brush first saw the light on the skin of a hog. The crino­ line that stiffens the bottom of ladies' dresses was used originally to switch the flies from the backs of horses, and the mattress on which you sleep so comfortably served the same use be­ fore it fell into the manufacturers' hands. Your dainty toilet soap--dear me, how can I teii you!--was w»de of dead cats and dogs, found in the streets, and the " bitter almonds" which so delight­ fully flavors vour candy, came from the horrible smelling coal-tar. The scent-bags of that offensive ani­ mal, the skunk, furnish some desirable additions to the toilet-table, used for removing freckles and tan, and the dreadful stuff left in drains is turned into a fashionable toilet article, apd adorns the face of ladies. goes who 'dreadful process; and the dead cats land dogs are boiled to extract the grease, purified, whitened and perfum­ ed before we see them as soap. i The doll whose ancestors inhabited a ragman's den endured unheard-of op­ erations of washing, soaking, bleach­ ing, chopping, molding, and so forth, -before she took her place in the nursery to amuse the little folks; and the clay from the mud hole was washed, and pu­ rified, and whitened, and kneaded, and baked and glazed, before it ventured to call itself china, and take its place on the^ tea-table. The horse-tails that stiffen the dresses and stuff our mattresses are washed and soaked and boiled Mid baked be­ fore we use them; and the intestines, which make the voice of guitar and piano, went through long processes of scraping, soaking in lye and washing, before they were drawn out into the fine, tough strings with which you are familiar. r '» The rat skin, which We eat under the name of gelatine, first flourished as the thumb of a kid glove, and after being worn out in that capacity, went through ever so many purifying processes, somewhat as the old boots did, and ended on our table. Nearly all the things we throw away in alleys, or even through our drains, the most disgusting things you can think of, are valuable, and, after going through the hands of skillful work­ men, come out in new shapes, and have new fields of usefulness. The feats of old-fashioned fairies, who turned pumpkins into carriages, and shabby old gowns into elegant robes, do not compare with the won­ ders performed in our workshops, by rough-looking men, in shirt-sleeves ana white aprons.--Olive Thome, in Home Companion. FACTS AND FIGURES. IN pearl-diving the common immer­ sion is a minute, but often ninety to 100 seconds. Two minutes is uncom­ mon. BEFORE the close of the current year it is expeoted that telephones will be in use in 220 telegraph offices in Ger­ many. THE Point Keyes farm in California is credited as being the largest dairy- farm in the country. It keeps an ag­ gregate of 4,500 cows. IN 1848 New London had a fleet of eighty vessels engaged in the whale- fisheries. At present less than a dyzen whalers hail from that port. PARISIANS are tired of losing their pocket-handkerchiefs at the wash, and and now they have their photographs executed in the center of each. SQUIRE MATES, a jolly old Justice of the Peace of West Alexander, Pa., has married 1,358 couples in sixteen years, receiving $4,100 for his services. DURING his search for his son, the father of Charley Ross has had nearly 500 little boys offered to him as the original; but none of them would do. IN the last fifteen centuries Japan has had 140 destructive earthquakes. One every ten years has been the general average, but for the past century the ratio has increased to one severe one every five years. » A GIGANTIC scheme of railroad iua- Srovement is proposed ic. Italy. The [inister of Public Works has presented a bill in Parliament providing for a general system of improvement in ex­ isting lines, and construction of new ones, comprising 4,000 kilometers of new roadway at a cost of 830,000,000 francs, of which the Government is to contribute 650,000,000 francs, the ex­ penditure to be carried over fifteen years. FI:OM observations made on speci­ mens still in existence, longevity of various trees has been estimated to be, in round ^numbers, as follows: De­ ciduous cypress, 6,000 years; baobab trees, 5,000; dragon-tree, 5,000; yew, 3,000; cedar of Lebanon, 3,000; 44 great trees" of California, 3,000; chestnut, 3,000; olive, 2,500; oak, 1,600; orange, 1,500; Oriental plane, 1,200; cabbage- palm, 700; lime, 600; ash, 400: cocoa- nut palm, 300; pear, 300; apple, 200; Brazil wine-palm, 150; Scoten fir, 100; and the balm of Gilead about 50 years. --Mark Lane Gazette. TAKE one dollar and loan it for 100 years at 3 per cent., and collect the in­ terest each year and add it to the prin­ cipal, drawing the same interest, and at the end of the hundred years it will amount to $19.25; at 6 per cent, it will amount to $340; at 8 per cent, to #2,- 203; the addition of the 2 per cent, in rate makes it amount to nearly seven times as much. Placed at the ordinary rate of 10 per cent, it amounts to $13,- 800; ai 12 per cent, to $84,075, or more than four thousand times as much as it would at 3 per cent; at 18 per cent, it increases to $15,145,700, and at 24 per cent., which is paid by some, to the enormous sum of $2,551,799,105.--Iowa State Register. --The Philadelphia Press says,"a glass of milk at bed time will often an­ swer as well as a hypnotic in nervous persons afflicted with insomnia." We suppose a hypnotic is a thing to keep the covers tucked in at the foot-board, and 44 insomnia" is oold feet. --Hawk- Eye. --A tramp saved a train on the Ken­ tucky Central Railroad from destruction ine other night by signaling it with his shirt that he had stripped from his back and set on fire. He had discovered a large tree that had blown across the track, and adopted this method to pre­ vent accident. --The late Rev. Dr. Putnam, of. Bo*» ton, never would consent to the en- ; gagement of an assistant. He said he j had rather preach poor sermons self than listen to them from •3 ' iMJ» 'i-