.h :J / ' ' tM - $ vt« • . - L " . i • ' / - ; • • : - ia.'.. r 7. -• . .. .. . . ... .. •. . ., . . ^ --- .-' . ... • , . - V'.. . ... 7 !* $ V .V.?, flii • ' " V ' V " ' . , . ' - v , •*- i i>RBAM OF FAME. BY BELLI KOITTXOSULO. Ife' ^ ' V j V,;,;, it? \: "Y •' ' . s H ;&'5W¥ ¥• v*« s £"' '• •>* "-• .* sj$ •4,% ^ *% «* ^ *1 v v tv-W v ^y<' . A#;v>' IbMlilJiiia fc ftdryonth " t wfll win aw > TOrto ̂recorded ahall be in the annate of fame'*-- As iw gltno«d at the walla that rose gloomyand .'«• . bare, .. At the low, wooden bsdateitd, * the three-legged chair; At the table, o'erstrewn with pens, paper and ink-- *' Nor shall «vsr my pmma Into oMlvioa sink.".-,• Sis «TH closed in alumber--the scene mm toon CHANGED; While ovr pleasant valleys his vlson now ranged, Vhtil, resting at last on a mountain so high, seemed that Its summit might pierce tfcp M»* *ky, A WUM extended from summit to base. A beam of wonder came over hia faoe As he gazed at the crowd that was trying so hud To ssceud; but oft obstacles their progress retard, While some, who, ascending full many a round, ' O'eroome by their efforts, fell then to the ground. To offer condolence, their friends gathered near; Those expressions of pity he plainly could hear. And for help from below those aloft vainly call, Jar the higher they ascend the harder their fall. Good friends, can you tell me what means this high hill. And why'tis ascended with eagerness still? Why don't they take warning by those who have tried? « Or, failing in that, take wisdom for a guide! What means this great lad del they try to asosnd? Oh, answer me truly, if you are a friend!" MTThe hill is called Eminenoe; those who would attain . The summit ascend on the ladder of Fame. Ton star, that shine#f brightly and dimly by turns, Is the lone star of Hope--for its ray eaoh .one yearns. 1|, Inspires th?m with oouraga, aa upward they climb, ': Sustained, in a'meaanre, by Patience and Time." "To me it seems easy; I think I'll ascend t What is found at the summit--pray tell me, my friend!" "Alas! I can't tell--should you happen to drop, like most who hare tried--you will ne'er reach the top!" "Tfcooe who in trying have failed oft toy It O'erooming all obstacles, they the summit Beplied the brave youth, with a smile and a "And to mount to the siurmit 1 surely shall try!" The foot of the ladder he reached with a bottpcl, , Then mounting aloft, round after round, Slowly, but surely, he upward ascends, f . Encouraged below by bis numerous frienda} ' The bright star of hope ever o'er him doth gleam, And during his progress continues to beam; Be mounts higher and higher, nor onoe does he drop; Success crowns his efforts, he reaches the top. "Ihave won it at last; no more will I ask; I® the light of my greatness content I will VMk; I will reap my reward, on my honors retiret. For surely no more could I ask or desire! What will be the reward of my honor and funs? Surely something besides an illustrious name!" A voice in the distance to his question replied, "The reward of all greatness, behold by your side! 'Us the same," too, for those who have lingered be- yK. low; - . - !( ... Us this, the rewardof your greatness, and though Ton may live for wealth, Measure, love, honor or • fame,* 'v reward in eadt case would still be the same.'* ' the voice ceased to speak, then glancing around. 5> As if to determine from whepco came the sound, "The language is strange, but the reward I ' -» ,mnHtcll4®» v ̂ rot %us I have achlsrM' mujh gi%at holior and n fame! ' 1" i ."though the voî s said that others lfu honored * jA than I ̂ * The same should reeaim, alfliough they would ne'er 'j f • ' >4« thia gssatemtoanoe. Do I bshold by my ' V, . ,Uri -TSbs teward pt my labor? Ores* hesvesf!,** he > v,t. . .cried: j "C*n this be the froth? Is there not some mistake? ^ Was it, then, for this I such efforts did mpke? nil la, then, the reward I once thought I would ^ » * ifHW?" - ' -f. /';• J'; • j. :*•' •*! Alas Idol find it is naught but a gr*v»l" 4 •/: The dreamier awoke with a smile of eoiitenlfs ^ 9is thoughts in a different channel seemed bent; He exclaimed. "Though the summit I fail to attain, Though 1 find that my efforts have all been in vain, Though I never should win an illustrious name, My reward in the end will be just the samel" ItaiPOBT. 111. ̂ ; f ' ' , ? WESTMINSTER ABBBTj iff' DQQ • • • '-4 .W CHAKD«B MOOLTO||. ^ Westminster Abbey is the history of l£ England made visible. All the Kings vr< «ad Qneeas since Harold have been ^ crowned there, and many of them are «$/ buried there. It Is the tomb, moreover, V*' of the most eminent statesmen, church- men, poets and novelists for 500 years. «•j ̂ The first King crowned there was Har- f old the Dauntless, in 1066. William the Conqueror was elected King at the ; Abbey. It was originally part of a 1" royal palace, and held as property ^ ninety-seven towns and villages, seven- teen hamlets, and 1216 manors. JU fed hundreds of poor daily. It J comprised, beside the church which yet *-f' &taaioL, many chtirches, towers, chap- ^ els, prisons and other buildings, cover ing an immense area of ground. The present building illustrates nearly every period and variety of Gothic architect ure. ' a The Abbey originally stood upon an island in the middle of a marsh-- Thorney island by name--and it was built pad dedicated to St. Peter by Me- lutus, Bishop of the East Saxons. In truth, however, little is known of the foundations of the Abbey beyond the fact, that |t was among the earliest works of the first Christian converts in Britain/ ' 1 King Edgar gave it to twelve Bene dictine monks, and thenceforward its Hitory becomes that of England. Its Abbot had a seat among the peers in I$H Parliament untO the Reformation. It ' ^ ia .now in the hands of a Dean and * Chapter of Canons, like a cathedral, f« which, however, it is not, and never has "been, accept during the reigns of Henry ig lTMt and Edward Vt " : Zt is not generally understood, per haps, that the one thing that constitutes a church a cathedral is the presence in it of a Bishop's throne. Let but the Bishop's chair be set up in the smallest wayside church, and it becomes a ca thedral while so occupied; and the gqradest church to the wovlfi ttedral without itsttoone.' mi Mi . i-'j For grandeur of architecture, for beauty of stained glass, for perfection of detail, the Abbey must be the ad miration of all tourists, but a yet deeper interest attaches to it as the place of sepulture of so many of England's no blest sons. No church in the world holds so illustrious a congregation of the dead. As you approach it from Parliament street you perceive first the richly- adorned buttresses of Henry YII.'s chapel. Then you emerge into the open square, and have the whole grand building rising before you. The little church of St. Margaret stands in front of the Abbey, under its walls, as it were, picturesquely breaking its out line, and displaying, by contrast, the lofty proportions of the great edifice be hind it. The House of Peers used, on high days and holidays, to attend service in the Abbey, while the Commons went to the little St, Margaret. The Chapter House of the Abbey was the original House of Commons. Westminster Hall and the present Houses of Parliament now front it oh the left The architect ure of both the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament strongly reminds one of Milan Cathedral; though the Italian cathedral is of gleaming marble, and the English edifices of gray stone. Like most of the finest Gothic churches on the continent, Westminster Abbey is built in the form of a cross; the body of the cross extending from the west entrance, through nave and choir, to the high altar, with its glori ous east window; and the ncrth and south transepts forming its arms. Visitors usually enter by the door near the poet's corner, gnd one could scarcely fail to pause there for awhile, with beating heart; before going further. Chaucer, the " Father of English Poet ry," was buried there, and there, from time to time, the glorious company of his followers have been borne to join him. i Here we have Drayton's monnment, and Spenser's, and Cowley's, and Dry- den's, and "rare Ben' Jonson's" and Butler's, who wrote "Hudibras," and Grey, of "Grey's Elegy." Many forgot ten poets, are here, too. Here is an in scription to Thomas Shadwell, who was poet-laureate in the time of William HI., but whose laurels withered ages ago, and have been blown away by the winds of time. Nor does anybody read Matthew Prior now-fe-days, though the men of his own day held him in high esteem. But here is Campbell, whom we are still grateful enough to remember; and here are monuments to Shakspeare, and Milton, and Goldsmith, and Words worth, all of whose bodies repose else where. Byron was to have been buried here, but the Dean and Chapter disap proved of him, and refused to admit him. Not far off from the poets sleep Addi son, and Sir Isaac Newton, and Dick ens, and Thackeray, and Macaulay, and Dr. Samuel Johnson, whose monument, however, is in St. Paul's. Livingstone, the African explorer, is buried here, and Handel, the composer, and Pitt and Fox, who rest quietly enough, all their stormy debates over. Bichard Brinsley Sheridan, the dra matist, and Garrick, the aotor, are neigh bors. Mrs. Siddons, queen of tragedy, has played out her role, and rests here at last. Mrs. Oldfield, another distin guished actress, was buried here, as the chronicles of the time tell us, "in a very fine Brussels lace head-dr€ss, a Holland shift, with a tucker and double ruffles of the same lace, a pair of new kid gloves, and a winding-sheet." You may wander at your wOl fcQiong these monuments in Hie nave and the transepts, but on all days except Mon day you pay a small fee to see the chap els surrounding the choir, and are shown over them by a berger. This arrangement is the one disagree able feature of a visit to Westminster Abbey. Ton would fain spend hours in the solemn stillness of these wonderful chapels where lie buried Kings and Queens, and lords and ladies; but, in stead, you are hurried along with a score of discontented people, herded together like a flock of sheep, while the guide shouts, in a high-pitched, monotonous voice, "This is the monument of K^ng This or Queen That.. Ton cannot pause to oolleet your thoughts, or your historical racoi- lections. You have scarcely time to contemplate anything, and yon get only the vaguest general idea as you are driven unhappily along. It is a strange thought to.a republi can that one is treading above the dust of Kings and Queens, whose scepter and crown have tumbled down, aa old Shirley sang, long ago. Thirteen Kings lie at rest in the Abbey, namely, Sebert the Saxon, Edward the Confessor, Henry IIL, Edward Edward IIL, Bichard 3X, Henry V., Edward VL, James I., Charles H.,. William III., and Geoge IL The're are alio fourteen Queens, who were once reigning sovereigns or the wives of Kings. Queen Elisabeth is here, and her fair |ival and victim, Mary Queen of Scot# and good Queen Anne, *?. • -•j n fi % K- 4fit t M y, * \ * * * mwm'f >4 •* . and cruel Queen Mary, and that brave Queen Eleanor who followed her hus band, Edward L, to the wars of the Crusades, and sucked the poison from his wound with her own bright lips^- that beautiful Queen Eleanor, whom her husband so loved and mourned that he enacted that every Abbot of Westmin ster should be bound by oath, on entering on his office, to see that 100 wax tapers were burning round her tomb on St. Andrew's eve, the anni versary of her death. In these chapels, too, besides their royal occupants, are buried Dukes, and Earls, and Barons, and their wives. Most of these stately dead are repre sented by their effigies. There are Kings and Queens, with their crowns; Earls and Countesses, with their coronets; ladies, in robes of state, and Knights in armor. Usually, you will either see the good Knight kneeling before his own tomb, with his lady kneeling at his heels, and behind her their children in regular order, from the greatest to the least; or else you will see the lord and lady lying on the tomb, the husband usually ele vated a foot above his wife. It seems to have been a grand object with the makers of these old tombs to symbolize everywhere the sovereignty of the man over the woman. One of the most extraordinary monu ments is that of Lady Elizabeth Night ingale. It is popularly known as " Death and the Lady," and it is much more melo-dramatic than solemn. The wife is dying in a very uncom fortable position, half-upheld by her husband's arm, while the skeleton figure of Death has burst forth from the iron door of the tomb below, and is aiming a dart at the lady, from which the hus band tries in vain to shield her. It seems, however, ' that this grim Death has a terror for evil doers; for it is told among the traditions of the Ab bey that a robber, coming in by moon light, caught a glimpse of it, and was so affrighted that he fled away, leaving his crowbar behind him. Of the chapels, which are nine fn number, the largest and most beautiful is that of Henry YIL It occupies that part of the church usually called the Lady Chapel, and you ascend to it from the east end of the Abbey by a flight of stone steps. It is the burial-place of al most all the English sovereigns trom Henry YIL to George IL It is the chapel of the Knights of the Bath, and is hung with their banners. It has two rows of stalls, one for the Knights, and one, lower down, for their esquires. The seats for the esquires are called misereres, because it was such a mis ery to sit upon them. They were so narrow that the unfortunate occupants could only keep their seats by diligent ly clinging to the sides, so that if an un happy esquire fell asleep he was sure to tumble down upon his nose. This chapel is the finest specimen in all England of what is called the per pendicular style of architecture. Le- land calls itu the miracle of the world." It is built on the plan of a church, in itself, with a nave and side-aisles. The very walls are wrought into ornament,, and there is no inch of it but is a- sep arate beauty. Here are the tombs of Queen Eliza beth and of Mary, Queen of Scots. The glorious tomb of Henry VII. and his wife, Elizabeth of York, occupies the center of the chapel. Henry VII. was a loving husband, as waS George IL, who desired that his dust might mingle with that of his be loved wife, in accordance with which wish, one side of each of their coffins was withdrawn, and they rest together. In the midst of the royal dead reposes George Yilliers, Duke of Buckingham, the handsome and beloved favorite of James I. His effigy lies in state upon his lofty tomb, and beside him reposes his faithful wife, who had much to for give in him, but who loved him' much, despite his neglects. The Chapel of Edward the Confessor oOntains the .coronatjo'n chairs which have been used at the crowning of so many Kings and Queens., w: I The most ancient of these Chairs in closes the old coronation stone of Scot land, the loss of which grieved Scottish hearts sorely when It was curried away to London by Edward I. Tradition says this was the stone which pillowed Jaeob's head on that wonderful night when he saw in his vision the angels of God ascending and descending. I have exhausted my space in the merest bird's-eye view of this wonder ful. Abbey. But there are two more things I cannot on it to mention--the Jerusalem Chamber and the wax-works. The Jerusalem Chamber used to be the guest-chamber of the Abbot's house, and it derives its name from the tap estries representing the history of Je rusalem, .with which the walls were hung. It was here that Henry 1Y. died of apoplexy, in 1413. It had been prophesied of hipn that he should die in Jerusalem, so he was not alarmed when the pains of death took him in this room. But suddenly he bethought himself to inquire the same of tne chamber, and, when the attendant had informed him, he praised 'FT' God in a low voice, and composed him self to die, as had been prophesied of him, in Jerusalem. The wax-works have not been pub licly exhibited sinoe 1839, and can only be seen by a special order from the Dean. They are very interesting, for they are the veritable images of those whom they represent, attired as in life. That of Queen Elizabeth is a restora tion of the original effigy, borne with her, as the enstom that was, at her funeral. She is crowned with a diadem, and wears the huge ruff she brought into fashion. She has a velvet robe embroidered with gold, and a stomacher covered with jewels. There are eleven of these wax-works--Kings and Queens, attired in all their ancient but tarnished glory. No single letter, as no single visit, can give more than a general impression of this, whieh seems to me, take it all in all, the most interesting church in the world. A MILLION OF1 MtmNCBMEXf mtDJBM Altars. This year nearly 800,000 Frenchmen will actually serve with the colon for a longer or shorter period. Of these 470,100 belong to the active army, 144,- 570 men and 2,850 officers to the re serve of the active army, and 117,800 men and 6,820 officers to the territorial army. The armed forces of the coun try consist of the active army, in which a man serves nominally for five years; of the reserve of the active army, into which the soldier passes on the comple tion of his five years' service in the actual army, and in which he remains for four years; of the territorial army, into which men pass after completing their service in the reserve, and in which they serve for five years; and of the reserve of the territorial army, into which men are passed for six years after serving theii five years in the territorial army. The active army, consequently1 comprises five classes of yearly con tingent recruits--the reserve, four; the territorial army, five; and the reserve of the latter, six classes. Of the five classes of the active army four are actually present with the colors; of the four classes of the reserve, the class composed of the recruits who joined the active army in 1872 will be called out for twenty-eight days' training, during which time they will take part in the annual autumn maneuvers, while a portion of two classes of the territorial army composed of the recruits who joined the active army in 1866 and 1867 are at the present time embodied f >r thirteen days' training. The reserve of the territorial army is, therefore, the only component of the armed forces of France of which no portion will be ex ercised this year, and, as none of the members have ever been called out, it must for the present be regarded as a paper force only. Next year and every year afterward two classes of the re serve of the active army and two classes of the territorial army will be required to temporarily rejoin the colors; so that every yeai nearly a million men will be aotually drilled and exercised in France. --Pall Mall Gazette. WHAT A SHARK SWALLOWBD. The following letter, written by one of the officers of the British bark Lut terworth, has been handed us with the request to publish it: " While the Lutterworth was laying becalmed in the tropics, a large shark was observed swimming around the ship. A large hook with a chain attached was baited with a four-pound piece of pork. The shark made for it and bolted it. In hauling him up the chain parted, and he coolly swallbwed the hook, chain, and pork. Another hook was then baited, which he instantly seized, biting a three-inch rope in twain, and also swallowing it with another four-pound piece of pork. Another hook was then baited with a similar piece of pork, and with this the shark was oaught and landed on our main deck. All hands oleared from him, for he was in a terri ble flutter. His tail was cut off with a carpenter's ax, which quieted him a lit tle. Some said it was noi the same shark we had hooked before. He was cut open, when W3 found the two large shark-hooks and chain and rope snugly coiled away, with eight pounds of pork, in his locker. It seems almost incredible, but all hands are witnesses to it"--Portland Oregonian. PHOTOGRAPH mo A MIRAGE. i A remarkable occurrence with refer ence to the photographing of a church weather-cock at Tenby is reported by the London Lancet. At the time noth ing was observed by the artist but the object upon which he was engaged; but, on the development of the plate, the outline of a boat, with colors flying fore and aft, was distinctly visible about two-thirds up the spire,* in a reverse position. The photograph was taken at 6:15, and about that time the gun boats were launched at Pembroke dock. It is thought that it is a mirage of one of the gunboats soon after launching.' A ruinous religious revival is in progress among the colored people of Charleston. It is common to see con verts, usually women, carried ho|ne in sensible from the meetings. THE QUEEN. Mer Fimmm mnd IVmsgaWnw ? the Queen of England any real power? Or is she, as we alien hear it asserted, a mere figure-head and orna ment of the state, whose royal office has long ago been stripped of the au thority that the English Kings and Queens of old were wont to away. We know that things have greatly changed, in this respect, since Henry VIII. ruled the realm with an iron hand, and even since Charles I. tried to reign without his Parliament. Certain ly, the power of governing England has passed, in a very large measure, into the House of Commons, the body that rep resents the will of the people; and the Ministers, who are the servants of the House of Commons, wield, under its dic tation, most of the authority and pre rogatives of the " Crown." They are responsible for all its execu tive acts, the carrying out of the laws, the making of appointments, the con cluding of treaties, and the declaring of wars. All these acts used to be done, in the olden time, by the monarchs, who, after taking the advice of their counselors, followed their own royal pleasure. But, although the Queen cannot make treaties, wars or even appoint ments, independent of the advice of the Ministers, it would be an error to sup pose that she has no power left. She has certain prerogatives which, indeed, she never uses. For instance, she still retains the "veto" power; that is, she may refuse her assent to any measure passed by Parliament, and may thus prevent it from becoming a law. But no English sovereign has really dared to use this veto power tot nearly 200 years, and, if Queen Victoria should do so, she would probably incite a revo lution, and put her throne in peril. Another authority she has, but never uses, is that of dismissing Ministers. She has a right to do this, but if she should dismiss a Minister who had the confidence of the House of Commons she would do an act dangerous to the stability of her throne. Her predeces sor, King William IV., once dismissed a Ministry supported by the House, but he rased such a commotion by doing so that he was very soon foroed to re tract and to take it back again. But Queen Victoria has what may be called a power of advice and influence. She is entitled to be informed by her Ministers of every measure they pro pose to take, and every appointment of importance they intend to make, and to discuss these with them. She has a right to argue with them, and, if she can, to influence their action. It may be easily seen that the Ministers always listen to the sovereign with def erence, and are always inclined to yield to her wishes, if they can do so consist ently with their responsibility to Par liament. " Thus the Queen has no power to act over the heads of or against the Minis ters; but she has the moral power of persuading them and inclining them to her views. Of course this influence of the sover eign is all the greater if she o» he has experience in public affairs, political talent or tact, and solidity of character. A weak-minded monarch would be lis tened to with respect, but the Ministers would pay less heed to him than to a wise one. & Aside from this the Queen has a very great influence, both upon the morals of her people and upon the current of public opinion, by reason of her posi tion at the very top of society. A popu lar and revered sovereign in England finds the people inclined to yield to what is known to be that sovereign's wish. This is a persxlaaivB power, act ing upon the masses. A pure and moral court, Buoh as that of Queen Victoria, made so by her per sonal example, has a profound influence upon the tone of society throughout the country. Her domestic and home-like virtues have done a great deal to maka British society a far more elevated one, morally, than it was before she ascended the throne. Thus we see that the Queen, though no longer a potentate wielding the great important powers of the state, is much more than a mere figure-head; and that she has her far from contempti ble part to play, both in governing the country and in leading society to it higher plane. BICYCLES. We understand that some of the En glish country doctors are employing bi cycles, instead of horses, as a means of locomotion. The bicycles used by them are of iron, the rim of the wheel is covered with rubber, and they can move over tolerably rough roads and up quite steep grades, making from eight to ten miles or more in an hour. There are many places in this country where a doctor could advantageously keep this vehicle instead of a horse, es pecially in view of the hard times and the competition among the disciples of iEsoulapiuB. THE Time* says healthier thanahe this season. New Orleans is for yean at A LETTES OF ADVICJC* 91 DB. LA XOI1XS. V v % Week In and week out to; ijkwr oft in my eyes tears • And trinkled the length of my'loas, i • l Uks in a hot day tis bedir.zened * - With sweat as my handkerchief shews. • * .>• > Ton grieve that the masks of false natures, ' Which make a true ogre look fair, You've lifted; you've glanced at thair fesMKijip And found theimprint of hell there. I pray you, don't think all the creatures v , In life's eternal curse share. "!'*• * Ton mourn for the hopes that have pesfahsiff * ' "f Your tears sosk the flowers on their grav*§ . But how are your present joya cherished? " 11 Thia mosning will ne'er make you brave, ' Ihs haiis on your upper lip nourished Sprout faat 'neath blue glass and close sfcKMt, ' Ah! woe to awake from sweet dreaming. - j By glare in your eyes of the day; , j A will-o'-the-wisp had been gleaming f-' " 1 trhose night through the mire hid your jj An$ morn knows the idol once seeming y Is nothing but commonest clay. ... 'i My Mend, this great truth life envisoas: Some persons one never can trust; ; J They're naught but beguiling 8irei% 1 Yet fouler than highway, foul dw|fcf * , i' They need a satire like-Byron's-- . ^ \ Such folks feel only sharp thrust/ ' * ;•*!* * So, caper and cut every antic - m, : Ton wish, in this life's masquerods. Oh, be with hypocrisy frantic A .To smile, with false smiles unbefmyed. This truth is broad as the Atlantic: " *"*',* v1, J Hs wins who has highest trumps played, ". , QBOVR, ML •* 'T . 4 ttet PLEASANTRIES. STICKING to the bitter end--Chewing f rhubarb root. 1 A CHINA wedding ancl a wedding in China axe horses of quite different . ' colors. I A PHYSICIAN should never look grave | in presence of his patients. It is cruel- Ij ly suggestive. 1 TRUE goodness is like the plow-worm; | i t s h i n e s m o s t w h e i l n o e f y e s b u t t h o s e J of heaven are upon it. | A MAN addressed another, ' | Devoid of courtesy; , v ? | And, being answered, "Bo Said "You are curt. I set." •r IJ-"': W~>, -'fv.T-Vi / I # • - e i ' ' r\ 1 J a * . . . i , > 3 u i . i 6 V , •/ : K-'p" m-A i ' t : r ; *V t > v It 3 A V. MY brother-in-law, who "has been | there," says that any man is very near j! his latter end who is very near the lat- 4| ter end of a mule. ' 1 ' • ! A CYNICAL old bachelor says women | are so full of their own secrel» that it f is absolutely impossible for them to keep | the secrets of others. .. , | FIRST impressions are lpsting, as the J schoolmaster Baid when he introduced | himself to the new school by flogging | all hands.--Boston Transcript. | ' ' ' '! AN enterprising hen in IoWa lays two | eggs during "each twenty- four hours. 1 She is, therefore, entitled to the credit | of being the lightning oackle-ator. ' | TOPIC : Geological disousaion--Prin- | cipri--" Was it colder or wanner a hun- 'm dred years ago than at present?" Pu- ,,-i pil (honestly)--" I really can't recollect, J sir." ' 1 A WESTERN Connecticut man, the seventeenth child of his parents, mar ried the seventeenth child of neighbor, and people wonder if they will have thirty-four children. "I DO not want a jackass scalp in my 'A belt," says Commissioner of Agriculture j Le Due. No, indeed, old fellow; it is far better to carry it on the place where it grows.--Buffalo Express. , " ARE you building castles id Spain, | Mr. Jones? " said a landlady to a board- J er, who was thoughtfully regarding his | coffee-cup. " Jfo, madame, only look- | ing over my grounds in Java," replied J Jones. AT a recent- performance in the New | Haven Opera House, as ft number of ^ students left their seats between the acts, a good lady was heard to observe: " Ain't it too bad those fellows have to go home and go to studying? " "BYRON, my son," said a literary father to his athletio son--" Byron never played base ball." m No," said1 the boy, pulling on his orange-colored shirt, M and George Washington never wrote poetry." Here the morning hour ex pired and the bill went oret.-Bur- dette. A BRACE of lrangry tramps, espying a sign on a restaurant reading "Meals at all hours," entered and asked the loan of a breakfast. On being refused, they reluctantly took their departure, dryly remarking, "Those meals are not at all ours."--Chicago Commercial Adver- . tiser. A* hour passed on, the Turk awoks, . And to a blear-eyed minion spolj&-- Between the whiffs of opium smoke: •What, ho 1 thou Oriental bloke^ Repeat the latest circus joke." Shrewd answer made the caitiff, for He knew the fate that was in store If he retailed an ancient joke; Bo, deftly pulling down his vest, He bent, with salaam low, and "Great Pasha, all the fools are dead Except the knave, who bows his head." --Whitehall Timet. APLAYROO*. ' i Look out for the children itf plafetiing your home. There should be a play room in every house where there are young -children; fitted up with simple gymnastic apparatus; kept clear of furniture, so that all sorts of lively games and in-door sports may be in dulged in; and open to the little folks whenever they want "a spree." it will be a wonderful aid to health and hap piness « . . . : •'>r •* 4 ;