M.HENRY, * & , « >-:'s ,**;{ $* . <•%* ^ ff*'f'"\^A \j^^lK * .ViT ^ y *v * -•- tV V^ ̂ 1 ^<\7: . . ~ - ^ , » r . . - < . ^ ^ , : y . . ^ ^ t w J ^ ^ k , ; ; * - y : ^ , „ „ ' ̂ ; , „ ' 1 * * A ; >, ,<v x, : nun IJl.riudralM' J. VAN SLYKE. Editor and Publitncr. ILLlNOIh :,jfe THE AESTHETES* *T< l£» wild young k.tten aroused tho cat, 1 ; Asdostairat ease in the path sheoat. ' "Oh, naother." he cried '1 hRve just nojrSee A flower that suggested an Orient queenl 'T.B yonder by the nasturtion vin -- | Barbaric and tropte and leonine-- <1 am not quite clear what these terms may mean, ,., _ _ But they've something to do with the flower I've sten!) ,, , M And the aim in Hfeof a high souled oat , la feo gate forever on flowers like that I To the wild young kitten replied the eat," As blinking ner eyes in the6un she sat: "litiou id hope I had known how sunflowers grow. I--couldn't--count--ho^c--many years agol But they never cause;! iu my well-poised n,inrt , ,, Ideas of a dubious dangerous kind! And your time henceforth--it's your ma's ad vice-- ' Will i e spent inff maturing your views on , mice'" The wild young puppy dis'urbed the pug. As she drowse • in peace on the Persian rug. "Ob, mother:" he cried, "1 have just now Been" A plume that suggested a rainbow's sheen! With a gorgeous eye of a dye divino-- Blue-green, iridescent, ant berylline-- <1 am not quite t\ear what thes; terms may tnean, But they've something to do with the thing l've'seen!) And the on y Joy of a cultured imgr "15"to gaze on such in a graceful jug !" To the wild young puppy replied the pug1, Coinp is'ne herself on t.'ie Persian rug: ?'l would blush w.th shame through my dusky tan If 1 raved at a piece of a peacock fan 1 'Twould never nave raised m my sober mind- Ideas of a doubtful, delirious kind-! 1 will see that henceforth your attention go?s To perfecting the snub of your small b.iiCk . nose!" «-2&ien Gray Cone. THE FAMILY BLACK SHEEP. %.;• i; ?•; ' • -V fr r "And you, Freda," says my paternal ancestor* sternly gazing down from his superior height upon my pretty five feet two, "are to behave sensibly, if pos sible, and consider yourself engaged to Mr. Comyn." I feel myself sink--figuratively speak ing--away down to the lowest depth of despair as papa goes on reflectively. "Really, a fine offer for yen! You have always been the black sheep of the family, Freda, and certainly do not de serve such good fortune as to marry a man worth a cool million, who is quite devoted to you. So take the good the gods provide and make no demur." "A sacrifice to appease the wrath of the gods," I quote, demurely. But my heart is mutinous and rebellious to the last degree. How dare my father, or any one else, dispose of me in this cold blooded mercenary fashion? I hate Mr. Comyn! I am positive that it is hatred which is devouring my heart at the present moment; although, never having met the gentleman in question, how can I tell what my sentiment in regard to him may be? Yes, I have never met Mr. Comyn; yet he is mad enough to ask me to mar ry him! Such a curious affair in every •way! Sister Rita and I had attended an archery party at Mrs. Somers' lovely country home, and Mr. Comyn, chanc ing to be present, had fallen desper ately in love with me! At least such is his astonishing announcement in his letter to my father, which has just been received. Yet I am positive he was not presented to me at all; and indeed I was so engrossed with the game, so fully occupied with (well, yes, the truth must be told) flirting with Henry Blake, that I have simple no recollec tion of meeting this aspirant for the honor of my hand at alL But the Earty was a very large one, and so per-aps it is not strange that I have for gotten him. I take the letter from papa's hand (he is strangely deferential to me, "the black sheep of the family," since this proposal from Mr. Comyn), and I glance eagerly over the page of note- paper covered with a sprawling chirog- raphy. I catch a glimpse of my own name, and my heart sinks; yes, he means me. The epistle goes on to observe that having had the pleasure of meet ing Miss Freda Lowell at the archery party given by Mrs. Somers, he has fallen a sudden victim to the little blind god, and begs the honor of her band in marriage, providing that he phall be able in time to win her heart. Afa, there is a loophole! He will never win her heart--oh, no! Some thing of my thought must have ex- pressed'itself in my face, for papa ob serves hastily: "Now, remember, Freda, no tricks! It is my desire--my command--that you accept Mr. Comyn!" *'0h, papa, don't make me say 'Yes' now! Do give me a few days of grace! Even the condemned criminal going to the scaffold is allowed time for prepar ;;flion.n V * : * : ^?Papa frowned severely. "Freda!" His voice is very stern and I tremble in my boots. "You un grateful child! Do you realize that it iB all I can do to keep up the family ?" I feel small--awfully small- in com parison with that last adjective. Yet, wtiat connection has my possible mar riage with the payment of our bills, I fail to see--unless papa is referring to the expense of my keeping. "Oh, papa," I cry piteously (Fred Mys when I turn on the 'water works' there is no resisting), "do let me sup port myself; I can teach--I know I can! I have never considered marriage. J am young, Rita is oldest; why can't he content himself with liita?" Yes, why can't he? She is decidedly the prettiest--though, truth to tell, we look wonderfully alike. We are re spectively 17 and 19, and look even younger. Papa is frowning prodigious ly. I see there is no use in remon strance--bis mind is made up. A mil lionaire in ihe family! Papa puts an end to the controversey" at last by quietly leaving the room. I sink down Upon the broad window seat and pre pare for a good cry, when some one /'grails my hair emphatically. I stifle a yell ftud spring to my feet. Only Fred! Alt inspiration seizes me! "Oh, Fred," I wail, piteously, "can't you help me ? You have influence with papa--do beg him to give up this hor- , fible marriage!" He is only 15*uid the pet of the fam ily. "Freda, don't be a goose," he ejacu lates at last. "Wish I had a chance to marry a girl fts rich as Mr. Comyn. I'd perpetrate matrimony if she was as ugly as origin al sin, and my pet aversion." "Et tu BruteF I pout indignantly. Fred laughs. "Precisely. And, Freda, what do you think ? Rita is mad--oh, as a March hare, because Mr. Comyn did not pro pose to her. Funny isn't it,that he didn't fall in love with her?" "I wish he had," I cry; "with my whole heard 1 wish that he had! But &S': no such good luck for me, And I march away in high dudgeon, and, trying on my big sun-hat, fly down to the beach--my usual place of refuge. Here my little boat is moored; 1 spring in and push off upon the broad bosom of Lake Pontchartrain. Before I have gone far I am seized with another in spiration. There isn't a living soul in sight. I find a retired nook, and land ing ray boat, draw it upon the white, sandy beach for safety. Then I seat myself upon the sand and deliberately pull off my shoes and stockings; 1 am going to wade, for the tide is out and the water is cool and delightful. 1 had not gone far, however--holding the skirts of my gray linen dress up rather high, and thoroughly enjoying the situ ation, when I catch the sound of a faint groan. I drop my skirts involuntarily, and putting my hands to my mouth, a9 I have seen Fred do upon similar occa sions, I shout, lustily: "Halloa!" The answer comes at once, and so close to my side that I cry aloud in alarm. I turn quickly, and then I un derstand. Just around a little bend which forms a sort of a cove, I catch a glipse of a man lying at full length upon the sand. Even from that dis tance I could distinguish the pallor of his face, and understand intuitively that some accident has overtaken him. I glance down at my bare feet No time for shoes and stocking now--I dart through the water, and soon reach his side. The very handsomest man I. have ever met; he raises his dark eyes to my face and says quickly: "I beg your pardon, miss, but I have sprained my ankle severely, and--is there any place in the neighborhood where I can remain until able to trav el? My name is Compton--Walter Compton--from St Louis, and " he hesitates, and a spasm of pain contracts his face for a moment. "Yes," I cry immediately, "you can come home with me!" So I run to get into my discarded articles of wearing appare 1, and then springing into my boat iVow to the spot. With great difficulty I succeed in assisting the stranger into the boat, and then pull slowly homeward. I find papa quite willing to receive the stranger, who, after all, proves to be no stranger, but the son of one of papa's old friends. We made him comfortable, and then followed days and weeks of pleasant companionship. Six weeks from the day upon which I brought Walter Compton home in my boat he asks me to be his wife. I burst into tears. For I love him with all my heart; yet there is that hateful Mr. Comyn! He has never revisited our town since the let ter was written in which he asks for the heart and hand of Freda Lowell, but we may reasonably look for him now at any time. I sob out my story to Walter, my head upon his shoulders. He smiles, and stooping, kisses me. "Don't cry, sweetheart!" he says, soothingly. "You shall never marry Mr. Comyn--or any other man but my self, if you really love me! We will explain the whole affair to him and to your father; and Mr. Lowell will not object to me on the score of poverty, for I am a rich man, Freda." And then, some one raps at the door, and the servant annouuees: "Miss Freda, your father says please come to the library. Mr. Comyn wishes to see you." At last! So it has come, and I must face the music. And my eyes are red from crying, and my hair aw fully tousled. I am a sight to make a lover weep. Nevertheless, I'll go just as I am; if I make him hate me, so much the better. So I leave Walter's side and march straight to the library, with white cheeks, my head defiantly upraised. Mr. Comyn arises to meet me--a fine looking man, but not one-half as handsome as my Walter. He hesitates, and draws back with intense surprise upon his face. "Mr. Lowell," he ejaculates, in be wilderment, addressing my father, "there is some mistake. This is not the young lady." I clapped my hands gleefully, regard less of papa's severest frowns. So it is Rita, after all. I'm not two minutes getting her into the library; then I close the door and fly to Walter's side. Yes, it really is Rita. Mr. Comyn had only mistaken the name; but it is Rita whom he loves and wishes to marry. And best of all, Rita loves him in return and has been grieving in se cret all this time. So there is a double wedding, and papa smiles serenely and never frowns now, for he has two rich son-in-laws; and poor little madcap Freda, the bride of wealthy Mr. Compton, becomes quite an envied personage, and there is no longer any "black sheep" ia the fam ily- PRACTICAL JOKES. High Living in the United States. We venture that in no country in the world do people average so high in the cost of living. It proves that our av erage population lives well. And this is an important fact Good living pro motes health, and is a sign of intelli gence. Were our people so poverty- stricken as to be compelled to live poorly, the effect on the nation would be bad., Whether we advance in the better element of civilization or retro- gade depends on our living. It is also a test of our earnings. This nation has been steadily liquidating its debt since 1865. Yet it has lived, including luxu ries, not less than $10,000,000 a year, and has put down in business and trad ing plants at least as much more. Twenty thousand million a year seems a large sum. It means an earning ca pacity of $400 a year for every man, woman, and child in the country. Sup pose that but 10,000,000 of theae are producers, it rates each active worker as producing $2,000 a year of actual wealth.--Philadelphia Call. Gen. Bartlett's Commission. Gen. Joseph J. Bartlett went out as a Captain in the Twenty-seventh New York. The General was made a Brig adier by President Lincoln, and Con gress adjourned without confirming the appointment. One day while the troops were in camp at White Oak Church the writer recalls the incident of Gen. Bartlett's reappointment. The brigade which he commanded was drawn up to Gen. Slocum's headquar ters, who was then our division com- mader, to bid good-by to Gen. Bartlett Before this was done Gen. Slocum ap peared with Gen. Barlett and their respective staffs, the former eaying a telegram had just been placed in his hands which he would read. It was as follows: , EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON, D. C.--Gen. Slocum: Tell Gen. Bart lett to put on his old clothes again. I have reappointed him Brigadier Gen eral. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. WHAT I find to be the truth shall be welcome to me, let it sound as it may, I will know; and should this be im possible, this much at least I will know, that it is not possible. The Expensive Kind Played on Orlando J. Dowd-A Cheaper Variety More Fash ionable Now. Rather a severe and cruel joke was played on a young pilgrim near Ubet, Montana. 1 have expressed myself so often as the foe to all classes of practi cal jokes that I need not declare myself again here. This young man, whose name, for the purpose of this sketch, will be Orlando J. Dowd, came from the far East and settled down in Mon tana in a quiet, unassuming way, with the ultimate object of becoming a citi zen of the new young Commonwealth. He could not disguise his open-eyed wonder over the new and startling fea tures of the wild West, and so he at once became the victim of the hardened frontiersman, more especially the cow fraternity, with whom he was thrown a good deal. Some crude cow humorist soon con ceived the bold and highly brilliant idea of coming down on Mr. Dowd some sunny dqy with a tribe of bogus Sioux and scaring the nervous tender foot into an early grave. He told his friends about it and they were at once wild with delight. He told Orlando's employer, and he also laughed and slapped himself with joy. No pains were spared to make it a success. Half a dozen cowboys got the proper war paint and other toggery, and with no warning whatever, one pleasant day, while Orlando J. Dowd and his em- ploper were engaged in building a cor ral on the summer ranch, they were startled by a wild whoop that froze their blood, and less than a mile away they saw a band of armed and yelling savages descending upon them like the wind. "Here are the blankety blank In dians, Orlando," said the proprietor, "Fly for your life. You are young and have all of life before you. I will stay and meet death in the sere and yellow leaf of my closing year. Do not make a moment's delay. Jump on a horse and fly for your life. Tell my friends that I died peacefully at the hands of the savage foe. Do not stay to mourn for me, Orlando, but fly." Orlando did not know that his kind and self-forgetful employer intended to get behind the cabin and laugh to see the scared pilgrim flee with a squad of bogus braves after him, armed with tin tomahawks and wooden Winchesters. So Orlando J. Dowd vaulted owifty into the saddle of a $500 blooded racer that was picketed twenty yards away, and proceeded to fly. Before the distance was to great, however, ho practiced on the Indians with his Boston revolver and put a lead nugget into the thick part of a leg that belonged to a war like Sioux from St Lawrence County, New York, and who happened to be a little in advance. Orlando J. Dowd then proceeded to fill the air with alkali dust and to. ac cumulate intervening space. * * * » m * a It is now three years and four months since the event narrated in the forego ing took place. Orlando J. Dowd was so frightened by the cruel hoax that he did not slacken his space, but, with the last words of his dying employer still ringing in his ears, he fled. He always did everything thoroughly, and so when he fled he didn't do it superficially or slightingly. He < id it with all the ar dor of a young enthusiast. He not only fled, but he stayed fled. Of course, he did not want to come back to a place where his employer had met with such a tragic death. Everything would remind him of his dear dead friend, who so unselfishly gave up his life. So Orlano J. Dowd crossed over into the British possessions with his beau tiful steed and has never had the heart to come back. We should learn from this to eschew all species of practical jokes. Here was a young man whose life was full of golden possibilities driven from his home and compelled to drag out a miserable existence in a foreign land. It has also been a valuable lesson to those who suggested it. The Indian who got Mr. Dowd's parting remark in his leg says he never sits down with out a feeling of soreness and remorse, and Orlando's old employer says he will never play any more practical jokes. He enjoys them heartily at the time, but they come too high, he Bays. He is passionately fond of mirth in any form, but those jokes that you can get two for a quarter are good enough for him.--Bill Nye, in New York Mercury. Whalebone. The market price of baleen is ex ceedingly variable, depending on the fashion of the day. It is not as valua ble now as used to be the case some years ago, steel having superseded it for many purposes. The price may range from £500 to £850 per ton, and a good whale ought to produce about two tons. In 1814 a single vessel sold her cargo of baleen and oil for £9,508, but such times are not likely to return. Mineral oils have now supplanted train oils for many purposes, and perpetual hunting has diminished the number as well as the size of the whales, no ani mal having a chance of attaining its full dimensions before it- is harpooned. Often, nowadays, a whaling ship re turns "clean," i. e., without having cap tured a single whale, so that, with the lessened prices and diminished num bers and dimensions of the animals, whaling has become almost a lottery instead of a solid investment of capital, .and few ship owners care to run such 'a risk. Furnished with its wonderful horny sieve, the Greenland whale has no difficulty in procuring its food--as with mouth more or less open it swims backward and foreward through the shoals of the Clio--which mostly is found near the surface. The water escapes freely between the horny plates and lining fringe, while the ani mals are detained within the cage. When it wishes to swallow the prey which it has caught it employs its tongue, which is not less remarkable than the rest of the whale's structure. The tongue is not free except at the base, as with animals generally, so that it is impossible for the animal to pro trude its tongue from its mouth. The tongue is fixed by nearly th$ whole of its edge, so that it can only be pro truded upward. I once had an oppor tunity of examining the tongue of a small baleen whale which had been cast ashore. It was of great size, smooth on the surface, and I could not help thinking that it was very like a soft, well-stuffed pincushion. I pressed upon its center with my fingers, and found that a pit wao formed which rap idly filled with oil. Then I took a hammer and pressed the head of it on the tongue. The pit formed by the pressure became deeper and larger, and filled so fast with the oil that not only was the whole of the hammer submerged in the oil, but my hand and wrist also. The ignorance which pre vailed in former days on this subject is royal "fish." "The King himself shall REMINISCENCES OF PtBLlC have the head and body to make oyl and other things, and the Queen the tayl to make whale-bones for her royal vestments."--J. G. Wood, in JL&U0 man's Magazine. * 1 A Story of Wendell Phillip#, A little Pennsylvania hamlet had been thrown into commotion by the ar rival of slave hunters from the South one day, when the abolition agitation was at its hight. The obnoxious fugi tive slave law gave them protection. Wendell Phillips was to speak in that town that night The "fanatics" and "Jaw and order" people were all stirred up. Some uneasy spirits predicted trouble. A trial before the local justice was to come off in the evening at the same hour of t^te Phillips meet ing. The trial was to determine whether a black woman and a black man, claiming to be husband and wife, should be delivered up, with their three children, tojthe Legree creatures, who, armed with abundant legal pro cesses, were bent on taking them to Georgia cotton fields, whence, it was alleged, they had run away. When Wendell Phillips came upon the plat form that night his hall was n<ft filled; many of his sympathizers were with the rest of the town down at the Justice's court. The orator had been told of the excitement in town; those who had come to hear him expected a storm of the indignant eloquence fitted to this local text. They were disap pointed. He spoke scarce five minutes, and when he retired it was abruptly. The courtly, polished Bostonian was rude in his conduct The trial in the Justice's court was long. Abolitionists were inclined to dispute the Southern claim inch by inch. A message delivered to the Judge in the middle of the trial stayed proceedings for a minute or two that that officer might step into an ante room to see a caller. In this ante-room were locked up the five human beings whose fate was in the balance. When the Judge returned to the bench ho seemed unusually stern; he repre- manded every ftan who spoke in the fugitives' behalf, talked energetically of upholding the law, the country's safe guard, and in language that admitted of no misunderstanding announced again and again that his decision would deliver up the negroes again to servi tude. He seemed strangely intent on argumont, unnecessarily combative, and for no reason so much as his volu bility the trial stretched out to the edge of midnight. Then when adjournment came, the Justice with some ado hand ed over an order to the gentleman from the South to remove the property. But that back room was empty; the birds had flown. And the people who had arranged to entertain Wendell Phillips that night waited up till morn ing broke all in vain. No Wendell Phillips came; he had disappeared as mysteriously as had the negroes of that ante-room. There were folks who put two and three together; there were folks who didn't wonder when at the next election the Abolition vote went solid for the rebel Justice. His sterness, his Southern sympathy and long-winded oratory had been a sham; he had fol lowed instructions from Wendell Phil lips, and giving the father and mother and children time to push on many a mile toward freedom further North.-- New York Times. An Astute Canine. "You talk about dogs," said the judge, "you talk about dogs--I can tell yon the funniest story about a dog." "Did you know the dog?" said the doctor. "I did." "Was it a terrier, or a pointer, or a bull-dog?" "It was a Dandie Dinmont" "Good," said the doctor; "they're a very truthful breed." "This dog belonged to a friend of mine who used always to take him out with him." "A bad habit," putin the doctor; "you should never let a dog know too much." "The dog used to wait outside for him when he went in to call on a friend. One night they were a very merry party and they kept it up late. My friend got very drunk. The dog finally got restless and began to howl. A cham pagne bottle just passed his nose and he smelt it and shut up. About 2 o'clock in the morning my friend came out. He said good-night, shut the doof, walked in by the garden gate all over the flower-beds, and finally, unable to get out, he lay down on a rose-bush and went to sleep. The dog watched ty him till the milkman came along in the morning, picked him up and took him home." "That's nothing," said the doctor. "You just wait a minute. Two or three nights later he went and called on his friend again and took the dog with him. The dog Waited outside a little while and began two howl. An other champagne bottle was thrown at him. He smelt it, winked to himself, and trotted off. He went home, scratched at the door till the servant- girl opened it, attracted my friend's wife's attention, made her follow him to a pile of planks, and whined till they got out a very long and broad one. Then ho directed them to where his master was, and when the door-bell rang and the door opened the revelers found the dog, my friend's wife, the servant, and a stretcher. That dog knew what was needed, you bet."--San Francisco Chronicle. XEsr. BY BEN: PERLEY POOBE. Postmaster General Brown, died sud denly at Washington on the 8th of March, 1850. One day, some four weeks previous, he was at the depart ment, signing up his official journal, his clerk stauding on his left, turning over the pages as each signature was affixed. Mr. Marron, then the efficient and vig orous Third Assistant Postmaster Gen eral, having charge at that critical period the important responsibilities of the finance division, entered the rooin to obtain Mr. Brown's signature to a draft. Turning to the rigiit he cheer fully signed the paper, and Mr. Marron «a* retiring, when the head of the de partment remarked, "Marron, I wish you would come in and see me when I get through with this." Being then long after the usual of fice hours, Mr. Marron turned and said, "Do you wish me to see you again to day, sir?" "Yes," replied Mr. Brown; I want to know if you have set your bouse in order; for, in a month or less, we shall have neither a habitation nor a name here." Mr. Marron, with a con viction that his official house was al ways in order, paused a moment, and with surprise and a smile, remarked, "My house in order?" "Yes, sir--your house in order; for in a month or less we shall neither have habitation nor a name here," "Well, Governor," replied Mr. Marron, "if tho storm comes I can stand it as well as others," and then, pleasantly, left the room. Three week afterwards Mr. Marron died, and a few days later the Postmaster General was taken ill. As his devoted wife stood weeping at his bedside, he opened his eyes, extended his arms, clasped her to his heart, im printed a farewell kiss upon her lips, and died. Mr. Augustus Peabody, who was con nected with Mr. Webstar in the busi ness of his law office in Boston, used to relate that on one occasion Mr. Web ster had made all his preparations for a summer tour in his own carriage with his wife, and had drawn the money for his travelling expenses out of the bank the day before his intended departure. The next morning the New York mail brought a letter to Mr. Webster enclos ing a check for $1,500 as a retainer in a great land case to which Mr. Astor was one of the parties. This letter, with its enclosure, Mr. Peabody took down to Mr. Webster's house, and found him already seated in his car riage about to take the road to Sarato ga. He gave him the letter, and asked him to endorse the check. But Web ster put the check in his pocket with the remark that he might need it be fore he returned, and so it turned out. When he came back to Boston the whole of the $1,500 had been spent, in addition to the money he had previ ously drawn. On another occasion Mr. Webster had Invited some friends to dinner. As he left home in the morning he requested his wife to send John down to the office about 10 o'clock to go to market with him. John came down accordingly. Mr. Webster was busy writing. He asked John if he had any money. John replied in the negative. "Then," said Mr. Webster, "go down to Mr. Burritt and ask him to give me $5." (Burritt was a stationer in the lower story). John came back and stated that Mr. Burritt had not $5, but sent him $10, which Webster took and put in his waistcoat pocket. Pretty soon a poor woman came in on an alms-asking er rand. Said Wobster, still writing, "I know all about it; you've lost your hus band and have five small children and nothing to eat. Take this!" and he gave her the ten-dollar note which John had borrowed from Mr. Burritt By and by he finished his work and re marked to his servant: "Now, John, we'll go to market." Down they went through Court and Washington streets and Dock Square to tho Quincy Mar ket, below Faneuil HalL Mr. Webster bought of the butcher at the south end of the market what suited him, but made no payments, as'he had accounts with them. A last they reached a veg- there should be no poverty or pain, and etable dealer, of whom Webster aia©-mankind would become just as rich, HE who would eat the egg must first amusingly exemplified in the old docu- break the shell. | ment which constituted the whale a The*News of Waterloo. A year or two ago an enterprising French publisher got out a reprint of the London Times of June 22, 1815. Although its four pages are but sixteen inches long by ten in width, their con tents. more than their small size, form a contrast to the mammoth Times of to-day. In place of being a record of national humiliation, they tell of England's "crowning mercy"--the victory of Waterloo. The Times' correspondent on this oc casion was the Duke of Wellington. Its only account of the battle is his dis patch to Lord Bat hurst, the chief of the War Department, dated Waterloo, June 19, 1815. This dispatch, which is comparatively modest in tone, occupies nearly the whole of the second page, but the account of the battlo of Wa terloo fills less than a column. The rest is devoted to the actions at Ligny and Quatre Bras, to subsequent mili tary movements, and to a short list of the more distinguished persons who were killed and wounded. In refer ence to the part the Prussians took in the battle, the Duke says: "I should not do justice to my feel ings or to Marshal Bulcher and the Prussian army if I did not attribute the successful result of this arduous day to the cordial and timely assistance I received <from them. WHEN a man has no desire but to speak the plain truth he may say a great deal in narrow space.--otHlt. made a purchase, and was about to pass on as before when the faithful John arrested him with the remark: Mr. Webster, this man is a stranger to us; we never had dealings with him." True," said the great lawyer, "very true ;* and put his hand in his pocket for the money to pay the amount Finding none, he said to his servant: "John, I thought you gave me some money just now?" "So 1 did, sir," said John, "but you gave it to that poor wo man who came into the office." "Ah!" said Webster," so I did, but I had for gotten all about it Well, John, you must borrow some more money and comedown and pay these people; and now we will go home." Gen. Grant was the first President who had a summer residence away lrom the District of Columbia. His depar ture for liis villa at Long Branch was the signal for a general official exodus from Washington, beginning with mem bers of the Cabinet, and including comptrollers, auditors, registers, cliiel clerks, and others charged with carry ing on and supervising the great busi ness of the country. In point of fact, while these officers were paid large an nual salaries, they only gave about eignt months out of the twrelve to their duties. Except for mero routine the Departments might as well have been closed from June to December. A Peculiar Sore Throat. The managers of a New York theater was very much annoyed by the actord and actresses who frequently refused to appear in their roles on account of sore throat, much to his pecuniary dis advantage. One Saturday afternoon when the entire company were on hand to draw their salaries, he paralyzed them by refusing to hand out any money. , "What is the reason you don't pay us our salaries?" howled the company. "There don't appear to be anything the matter with your throats now," re plied the manager, "but my throat is sore. I regret to announce, th.it on account of my sore throat I will ;jot be able to appear this week in my popular role of the prompt paymaster."--Texas Siflings. His business ( oinjw Wpd It. "How do you mana^ro to secure the best cards iu the pack," exclaimed a lady to her male opponent in a game of euchre. "I cannot help it madam," replied the gentleman, my business compels me to hold the best winning cards." "And wiiy pray ?" "I am a pawnbroker." "And what has that to do with this game, I would like to know?" "My business, madam, compels me to hold a loan hand."--Carl Pretzel's Weekly. SAID an old woodchopper, "When ever I want to find a chip of the old block I just ax the block.* fast Say In Richmond. That was a long, weary Sunday of xiental torture for the inhabitants of Richmond on the James, for nothing ant discouraging rumors came from the front, where the little army of Gen. Lee was standing up gamely in a fight nrhich there was no hope of winning. During the day there was no signs of in evacuation, the President, his cabi net, and the other Confederate and State authorities being at their posts, out toward sundown a strong post of orovost guards were distributed ihrougliout the central portion of the lity, and. beginning with the govern ment depot and ending with the restau rants, they proceeded to drag out to ihe sidewalks, knock in the heads, and pour into the gutters the contents of jvery barrel of brandy or whisky they ;ould lay their hands on. This was for ihe purpose of preventing the troops retreating through the city from get ting drunk and mayhap staking the stores. On Main street, the principal thor- jughfare, the confiscated liquor ran lown the gutters in torrents, and men md women of both colors rushed for ward with all manner of utensils to icoop up the enlivening but dirty fluid. Some used their hollowed hands, oth- srs their hatB to get a supply of the Sery stuff, and in a half hour or so the streets were filled with a maudlin mass sf drunken humanity. The pouring out of the liquor was a lure sign to the affrighted citizens that the city was to be evacuated, and they fled to their homes and drew bolts and bar, and sat down in dumb misery to meet their fate--they knew not what-- but feared the worst. There were few people who undressed and went to bed that night. These people suffered torment that Sunday night, such as the people of no city in the country have been forced to undergo since the land ing of Captain John Smith. Shortly after midnight the military authorities blew up the gunboats ana steamboats lying just below the city, and the terrific explosions seemed to the terrified people as the crack of doom. I have been credibly informed by an aid resident of Richmond, that about fifty people, chiefly ailing women, died that night of sheer fright. Then the tobacco factories, near liockett's, were set on fire, and soon the whole heavens appeared to be in a blaze. It is needless to relate how after the Confederate troops had retreated through the city other houses caught (ire from the blazing tobacco factories. There being no organized attempt to check the fire, and tho flames being spread by incendiaries intent upon rob bery, the whole business portion of the city was soon a literal sea of fire. The people anxiously awaited the advent of the Federal troops, expecting that the utter destruction of the city would en sue, and when the head of a column of a negro regiment of cavalry, with drawn sabers, came moving up toward the Capital Square the whites fled to their homes in utter despair. If ever a people in the last extremity were joy fully surprised by an unhoped-for de liverance, then the citizens of Rich mond were. No sooner had the Fed erals entered than they went to work to put out the fires and to restore or der. The troops insulted no one, en tered no private houses, and robbed no body. The general in command issued a proclamation that private property would be respected and protection given to all who behaved themselves. The inhabitants breathed freely once more, after months of harrowing sus pense.-- Washington Republican. Col. Bobert Ingersoll. The last man in the world to find fault with his Creator is Col. Robert IngersolL He is rich, healthy, fat if not greasy, and has escaped those acute sufferings which he states have afflicted the rest of mankind since the ill-judged introduction of Christianity. He thinks that the wisdom and benevolence of the Creator have been very much overesti mated, and that if he could have the management of affairs he would soon make this world a paradise in which fat;\greasy, and dissatisfied with every thing as lie is himself. Col. Robert Ingersoll is a melancholy example of the influence of too much property upon the growth of an un grateful heart and a captious spirit Had he only a few real troubles, like owing his landlord or milkman, he would not go about abusing his Maker and suggesting improvements in the motions*of the planets, and the wise allotments of human discipline. What he needs is for one hour to define what Thomas De Quincy finely calls the hie roglyphics of suffering. The earnest desire of Col. Ingersoll to make the Creator of this world re tire from all active direction of affairs, we fear, will not be realized. We trust that the rest of us are not so entiroly forgotten by the Divine wisdom that we shall escape those needed sufferings so wholesome to our souls, in spite of Col. Ingersoll's protest against the rank injustic of all corrections and disci plines. The poor sewing crirl, as Col. Ingersoll suggests, ought not to suffer as she doe3. but if her sufferings can only be alleviated by first depriving her of a heavenly Father, the remedy is worse than the disease. It would be like that celebrated case where the father cuts his little boy's head off to cure him of squinting. One of the useful results of a long life, if one retains his mental faculties, is to realize how much better things have been planned for us than we could have planned them for ourselves. What we thought was good fortune has not proved so, and out of disappoint ments and sufferings have come a last ing content. Col. Ingersoll is a smart man, and after making all allowances for his abilitv, we shall venture in closing to modestly suggest to him that perhaps lie does not know quite as much as his Creator.--Providence Journal. A Precedent Set by Marc Antony. "I think it's absurd that young ladies should kiss their poodles," said' a Mur ray Hill man to liis friend. "There's no reason for it." "Oh. yes, there is; aod there's also a precedent for the proceeding." "Please explain." "The reason is that most of tho girls have nothing better to kiss; the pre cedent was established by Marc Antony when he said, 'Havoc, let's lip the dogs of war."--New York Journal. ELIZABETH STUAIST PHELPS says: :'The short story is to literature what the opal is to jewels--the most delight ful or the dreariest of things. The real opal lover will examine thousands of specimens before selecting what, when he l\ps it, he would not exchange for any other stone in the world." SOME people's hearts are shrunk in them like dried nuts. You can hear 'em rattle as they walk.-- Douglas Jer- rold. PITH ASP POUT. THE artist who dresses the hair of aij£- Crishman may not be a Fenian head* icenter, but he is barberous enough W ae.--Texas Sifting a. 'k-; WHEN the man told his landlady sh$ led him wooden biscuits, she didn't get nad; oh, no, she smiled and told him, ioard was so cheap that--the story fy,% ;oo sad to conclude.--Merchant Trav* tier. An, maiden with the laughine eyei-- . Ah. Maiden with the banged hair--» • -#v H Thv bu't'.e fs of monstrous s ze-- Thy shoulders hump themselves in tifV Thou ha^t a hat prodig'io is tall-- /;> '1 hou walkes" with a wigr*ly trait, A e though perchance thy ahoon were ""»)( For l'eet thut cull for number eight -Exchange. "SMITH wont take his part," said tho itage director to the manager. "What s it ?" asked the manager. "The pari )f a woman." " 'Tis a mighty mean nan who wont take the part of a wo* nan," answered the manager.--Boston Star. . | IT is all the fashion now to use little jold mice for shoe-fastenings. Gen* ilemen who are aware of this fact catf •nfuse life into dull social assemblies by nforming some healthy young lady, •hat there are a dozen mice under her jhair.--Burlington Free Press. "I DIDN'T see you at tha party," said >ne benedict to another. "No; I waa '.ending a wake," was the answer of the )ther, as he thought how he prome naded the bedroom for four mortal hours with a kid that refused to be somforted.-- Marathon Independent,: IPITAPH ON A TOMBSTONE IN A GBAVE- YARD nr PLYMOUTH, COUNTY, MASS. Hereiiee the bonaa of Richard Lawton, whose death, alas! was strangely brought on. Trying his corns one day t > mow off. His razor slipped and cut his toe off. His toe, or rather what it grew to, An inflammation quickly flew to, (Vhich took, alas! to inor;ifying, Ind was the cause of Richard'* dying. SIX months after marriage, the hus* oand tells his wife, in one of those Durets of confidenoe in which the mar ried man sometimes indulges, that there is no living with her. And only ialf a year ago he was telling tho same tvoman that there was no living with- >ut her. How fickle some people are, to be sure!--Exchange. NOT WHAT HE INTENDED.--He (a crack tennis-player)--"It's a splendid game, isn't it ? I really think that your jex ought to get up a testimonial to the inventor. It's the best game ever in? vented in which ladies can join." She (with a brother in his university eleven) --"Yes, that's what Jock says; it's a splendid game for ladies and duffers.1* --Exchange. A STUPID young man, supposed to be .•rack-brained, who was slighted by the jirls, very modestly asked a young lady "if she would let him spend the i\iening with her," "No," she angrily replies, "that's what I won't." "Why,* replied he, "you needn't be so fussy, I lon't mean this evening, but some jtormy one, when I can't go anywhere jlse.--Exchange. A DISGUSTED victim of° the weatkin^ aae composed the following little epie : First it is slippery Then it :'s slopp >ry: Now it is skippery. Now it is hopperv; Jumping an;i duelling. Plunging and slushing, ' Muddery, s.usher/. Gum shoes and guBherjr, Gossamers, wraps, Falls and mlsbaps, Arnica, lint- Words not for pr'nt. FIRST thief--"You're a lucky dog. I lidn't expect to see you out so soon. So the jury didn't convict you?" Sec ond thief--"No." "And yet there you itood before them with the stolen money in your pocket. It's lucky they didn t search you." "Theydid." "They did! They didn't find it?" "No, I didn't liave it." "Why, what had you done with it ?" "Paid it to my lawyer."-- Philadelphia Call. PHILADELPHIA Call: Health officer: "Don't you know, sir, that all this dirty straw in your cars is inimical to the public health ? Why don't you take it aut?" Street-railway official: "Oh, we can't afford it; out of the question." "Can't afford what? Go without any thing, if necessary; only get rid of the straw." "But I say we can't afford it. Taking the straw out would cut down our dividends." "What in the world would you lose ?" "Lose ? Great Cae sar ! We would lose all the money dropped in the straw by passengers while searohing through their change for the odd cent. NEW MAPLE SUGAR. Swe;t harbinger of early spring, I sing thy prniso; What recollec ionB thou dost bring1 t/f early days. In grocsrs' windows thou dost lie. The source of joy, And for th'v saccharine juices sigh The girl and boy. Fain on thee would they make a raid, And care no rap, Because. <> sweet, thou art not made Of maple sap. What thou art made of no one a3kfl, Friend of the mass s-- Of scrapings of the sugar-casks Or stale molasses. It Is enough that thou arr sweet. Not hardt > break; And when a boy takes thee to eat He takes the cake. The maple sap begins to flow When thou art here, "New maple sugar," and we know Thai spring is near. --Botton Courier. Catching Pigeons. The ground being cleared, the chiefs stationed themselves at distances all round a large circular space, each con cealed under a low shed or covering of brushwood, having by his side a net attached to a long bamboo, and in his hand a stick with a tame pigeon on a crook at the end of it. This pigeon trained to fly round and round as di rected by its owner, with a string at its foot thirty feet long, attached to the end of his stick. Every man flew his pigeon, and' then the whole circle looked like a place where pigeons were (locking round food or water. The scene soon attracted some wild pigeon, and as it approached the spot, whoever was next to it raised his net and tried to entangle it. He who got the great est number of pigeons was the hero of the day and honored by his friends with various kinds of food, with which be treated his less successful competi tors. Some of the pigeons were baked, others were distributed about and tamed for further use. Taming and excercis- ing them for the sporting season was a common pastime.--Samoa a Hundred Years Ago, by George Turner. Rapid Transit. Old" Bob Key worth and Gilhooly were discussing scientific topics a few days ago. "Light travels at the rate of 20,000 milep a minute," remarked Gilhooly. "I know better. When I was a boy at school I remember very well that the teacher told me light traveled at the rate of 6,000 miles a minute, and I know he was not the kind of a man to tell a lie about a thing of this kind." "He didn't tell a lie. At that time, forty or fifty years ago, when traveling • facilities were slow, 6,000 miles a min ute was very fast time, but in these days of rapid transit, 20,000 a minnte is nothing.--Texas Siftingc. -• .t