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wt”, YOUNG FOLK. ‘I The Spire of Saint Stevens. 'f (Concluded! Franz took up hisbasket and bade the old sexton good night. After he had passed in- to the street a 'figure crept out from the cupboard, and stole softly downstairs. The light by the door showed a boy about.seven- teen years old with an evil scowl on his face. “ And so thou art to take my place, I:ng Halie,” he siieered. “ That is nothing new. Twice this year has our master, the gold- smith, preferred thy work .to mine, and hast set thee over me. Truly, I Wish thou mayst fall to-morrow and break thy neck.” \Vhen Franz reached home the kind neigh- bor who was watching by his mother’s bed motioned for him to be quiet. The sick one is sleeping well,” she said. “ If I had but some good broth to give her when she wakes.” Franz pointed to the basket, and the delighted woman began the prepar- ation for the evening meal. \Vhen the invalid awoke they gave her a few spoonfuls of the broth and had the satisfaction of see- ing a faint color come into the white cheeks as she sank into a. peaceful slumber. “ Do thou go to bed, Franz ! I will stay with thy mother to-nig‘nt, and tb-inorrow too, for that matter, so that thou canst have the whole day to thyself. Thou needest it after all th care and watching. I like not these parai es and these marches of triumph. They remind me too much of my boy whose young life helped to purchase the victory.” And the good frau wiped away a tear. The morning dawned with a bright blue sky and a crisp breeze which shook out the folds of the tro ical banners floating from every tower on turret. The city was one blaze of color. The gorgeous festoons on column and arch and facade were matched by the rich tints of the splendid costumes in the streets below. On every side the black eagles of Austria stood out distinctly from their gleamin orange back-ground. The procession was due at the cathedral by the middle of the afternoon, but owing to some delay it was nearly sunset when the salute from the “ Fort” told of the approach i of the troops. To Franz the hours had dragged wearily on, and he sprang up joy- fully when Nicholas finally appeared in the little room in the tower, with the furled flag under his arm. “ Come,” he said grufliy. “ You have just time to climb up and take , your stand on the spire.” Up the boys went, as far as the great bell, Franz close behind Nicholas. Thus far, the ascent had been easy, but from this point the steps l dwindled to long, frail ladders terminating in small platforms, an steadied by iron bars. - Still they toiled upward, more slowly and , cautioully now, for the danger increased with every turn. At last they halted, side by , side, on the little platform under the sliding 1 window. To Nicholas’s surprise Franz stood there, surveying it all without flinching. They younger boy turned to his burly com- panion. “Somehow, we’ve never been very '3 good friends. I don’t think the fault was all I on my side, because you wouldn’t let me be ; your friend. And we have had a good many ( quarrels! Won’t you shake hands with me. now and wish me good hick? Ifâ€"â€"â€"if”â€"â€"and} there was just the suspicion of a tremor in ! the winning voiceâ€"“I should never see you 5 again I should like to feel that we were friends at the last. You’re very good to come up here with me.” . To his dying day, Nicholas never forgot the slight, almost girlish figure, standing there, with the wistful little smile and the i pleading tenderness shining in the blue eyes. l He touched the slender outstretched hand’ with his own, but droppcd‘it suddenly as if ,. he had received an electric shock. He tried i to say “good luck," but his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. “Look you, Franz!” he murmured hoarse- , ly, “\Ylieii you are safe outside I’ll hand out the flag. I’ll wait till you reach the op- posite side of the s ire and call out. “All’s well,” audthen 1’1 0 down andleavc you. to make your way ack. And glad I shall 'be to leave this miserable trap in mid-air.’ Franz's face was deathly pale, but his eyes shone like two stars. He climbed u nimbly through the opening, and let liimse f carefully down to the stone ledge outside, and reached up for the flag. A few moments passed, which seemed like ages to the wait- ing Nicholas. Then a cheery “All’s well” rang out without a quiver in the steady voice. The older boy’s face grew black with rage. “\Vhat nerve the pale, sickly, little thin has 3" he muttered between his set teeth. “ believe lic’lldoit,aftcr all ! And so this baby gets not only the prizes at the goldsmitli's, ut the money and the glory of this thing, to say nothing of his taking my place in the cathedral. ” He raised his hand to the window and stood in front of it for a moment. Then be be an the descent us if some demon were aft.- cr iim. The frail ladders vibratedand sway- ed with the dangerous strain, but down he went with reckless haste until he reached thesecond platform, when he raised his hands with an ngonizcd gesture to his ears as if he was trying to shut out the voice of conscience that kept calling to him : “ Back I back 1 before it is too late 2 Stain not thy young soul with such a crime 2" Still he hurried dnivn with flving step to the landing near the great bell, where he paused, and stood leaning breathless against one of the cross-beams of the tower. Into the fierce, turbulent passions of the troubled face stole a softened expression, lighting up the swnrtliv lincnmcnts like a gleam of sun- shine. “ I will go back and undo the her- rid deed," he cried, as if in answer to the good anch leading within his breast. “ I am coming, "ranz ! God forgive me 2" He had turned to make the ascent and his hand was stretched out to grasp the side of the ladder, when his toe caught in a coil of rope on the platform, and missing his hold he plunged down, down into the space beneath. In the mean time Franz had made his way safely around the spire and stood quietly with the end of the flag-stuff on the ledge beneath, waiting for the signal. It came in a few moments; the thunder of the great gun on the l’latz. and braciii ' his feet firmly. he unfurled thell: and slow ywavedit hack and forth. From e msweringroarof artil- lery and the cliccr upon cheer um floated up through the air he knew that his salute hal been seen. With a light heart he began to retrace his Steps. edging himself cautiously, inch by for i. to the window. To his surprise, thi- sliding wmnlen panel was closed 3 With one hand he gmspo‘ the iron ring fastened to thegpnll beneath the window. and with the other pushed first gently, and then “fill all l foothold, as rigid as the stone statues on the . ~ . , _ 3,4) _- yr his might, but the panel remained fast. e tried to batter it with the tlagstaff, but- soon found that in his (ramped ’position it only' increased his danger. Again and again he endeavored to force it open, breaking his nails and bruising his finger tips. in ‘~his frenzy. but to no purpOse. Suddenly” the conviction dawned upon him that the win- dow was bolted from the inside. 5 \Vitli‘a despairing sob he tattered backward, but his grasp on the ring held, and with a su- preme etfort he pulled himself up close to the wall and tried to collect his scattered wits. “It is no use to shout," he said aloud. The troops disbanded, and the people hur- ried off to the brilliantly lighted cafes and theatres, all unconscious of the pale, silent boy clinging with desperate grip to the spire, with but a narrow shelf of stone between him and a horrible death. The sunset faded into the twilight, and with a sudden wave darkness drifted over the earth. The noise in the streets grew fainter and fainter. into hours, and still the boy stood there as the night were on, occasionally shifting his position to ease his cramped and 'aching imbs. The night wind pierced his thin clothin , and his hands were benumbed with the COlt . One by one the bright constella- tions rose and glittered and dipped in the sky, and the.boy still managed to keep his dome below. “Two, three, four,” pealed the bells in their hoarse, deep tones, and when the first glimmer of dawn tinged the eastern horizon With pale yellow, the haggard face lightened with expectancy, and from the ashen lips which had been moving all night in prayer came the words. “In God is my trust.” it I- } ‘I G i.‘ ~l' “What is the meaning of yonder crowd ':” asked one of two artisans who had met while hurrying across the Platz to their work. “\Vhat ! have you not heard ! All Vienna. is ringing with the news! It was young Franz, the goldsmith’s apprentice, who climbed out on the spire yesterday and waved the flag. In some way the little win- dow near the top was fastened on the inside, ' and the poor boy was forced to stay out all night clinging to tlics ire. It is only ashort time ago that he was iscovered and brought fainting down the ladders. After working over him a little while he seemed all right and was carried to his home. And there’s another strange thing 2 Nicholas, old Jacob Wirtig’s nephew, was picked up, mangled and bleeding, at the foot of the tower stairs this morning. He has just been taken to the hospital.” The next day Franz received a summons from the Emperor. As he followed the officer who had been sent to conduct him to the palace, to his surprise the marble steps and the corridor beyond Were lined on either side with the soldiers of the Imperial Guard, and as the slender, boyish fi ure, with its crown of golden hair, passe between the files each mailed and beardedwarrior rever- ently saluted. On he went, throu li another chamber and into a spacious ha 1 with marble floors and hangings of rich tapestry. On both sides were rows of courtiers and officers, the rich costumes and nodding plumes and splendid uniforms, with their jewelled orders contrast-ing strangely with the lad’s plain. homespun gar‘iiieiits. “ It is the Emperor,” whispered the guide, as they drew near a panopied throne, and Franz dropped on one (nee. - He felt the hand which was placed on his bowed head tremble, and a kind voice said : ” Rise, my boy ! kneel not to me 1 It is I, thy Emperor, who should rather kneel to do thee homage for thy filial piety. My brave lad ! I know thy story well. Ask of me a place near my person, aid, for thy sick motherâ€"what thou wiltâ€"and it is granted thee? And remember that as long as the Emperor of Austria shall ‘live he will feel himself honored in being known as thy v friend. ” . . In a short time another summons came, this time from the hospital. At the end of along row of beds lay Nicholas, with his arm bandaged and strips of plaster covering the ashes on his forehead. “I , Franz l” he groaiied, “if God has for viven me, why cannot you? And you wil believe that I speak the truth when I tell you that I was sorry for what I had done, and I had turned to 0 back and unholt the door when I trippe and fell.” Franz bent over him with a bright snilc. “I forgive you everything, Nicholas,” he said sweetly, “ so please let us say no more about it. It wasn’t a bad exchange. I lost an enemy, butI gained a friend,” and the hands of the two boys met in a firm, loving grasp. 4 _____.._+â€"_.â€"_. How to Trim a Hat. For trimming hats the velvet or silk ros- ettes are much in vogue. They are easily madeâ€"after one knows how. You must conclude how large a rosette you want, and widen or narrow your material to suit the size. The rosette most fancied is just about the size of a rose, and the material, cut on the bias, is folded to be an ‘inch wide. The strip is then gathered and drawn into shape, it being fastened in that on a circle of stiffuet. Sew it securely and do not attempt to pluit it to shape~it must be gathered. One, two, or three rosettes are used and the number usuallydecides the size. An eighth of a yard of velvet, cut on the bias, will make one medium-sizul ros- ette, and this seems to be that best liked. Amateurs usually err in ever-trimming a hat or bonnet; so as straw ones are not so troublesome to arrange as those of velvet, do not commit this fault. If you cannot see the really good styles in any otliebway, then look at them in the milliner’s window. Read her art, and marking it. learn and outwardlyimitate. Cliapeaux “just tossed" together always look what they are, and the one to which proper consideration and time has- been shown is the one that ap- proacnes the nearest to being “a love of a ionnct." Not So Sure Abcut It. ‘,‘ Here’sau item," ejaculated Mr. Billus, who was reading his newspaper, “about a superstitious crank that got up from the table rather than be one of thirteen at a supper." , y“ That reminds me, John," said Mrs. Billus, “ that there were just thirteen that sat down at our wedding sup r.". “ “'ell, i: didn t bring anybgdy bad luck, did it 1'" 'iowlcd the husband. . ' “ No, believe not. That isâ€"to none of the otlieis." , ,. , )lys. ‘lillus stared abstractly at the-“God Bless Our Ifomé" on the ,wallapd .‘lr. Billiis rcad'his paper upside "down in Eilénce‘ for the next ten minutes. The minuteslengthened ' ‘ 9 - i ,7' HOUSEHOLD. The Little Wife At Home. The dearlittle wife athome, John, \Vith ever so much to do. Stitches to set and babies to pet, And so mun ‘ thoughts of you ; The beautiful ousehold fairy, Filling your house with light, “'hatever you meet to-day, John, Go cheerily home to-uight. For though you are worn and weary, You needn't be cross or curt : There are words like darts to gentle hearts, There are looks that wound and hurt : \Vith the key in the latch at home, John, Drop the trouble out of sight : To the little wife who is waiting, Go clieerily home to-nigbt. ' -â€"-For Truth. The Sitting-Room Window. BY MRS. ANNIE L. JACK. “And so the shadows fall apart, And so the West. winds play, And all the windows of my heart I open to the day." So I hum to myself this fair morning by the sitting-room windows, while the children life to everything where it can penetrate. Through the cool white curtains I see the dresses, fairImuslins and lawns that can be done soeasily by amateur dressmakcrs now that dresses are simplified and patterns ea- sily obtained. “'hen the machine stops humming and they are busy basting I sometimes lean back in my easy chair and moralize on events of the day--of men and women, and of the mercies we enjoy and only half appreciate. Patience sometimes takes a little time to paint, Ruth stitches bright fancies into her work, and bright haired Mercy attends to the domestic needs, comforts the children, and does the thousand and one things that fall to a willing woman’s share of life’s over burdens, now and then bringing her work with her to a chair by the pleasant window where we all congregate. So this morning there is a little breathing spell, and we are talking of the best each can i make of life. \Ve talked, too, of the various avenues open to our six in the world of work, and I said that our many duties kept us from concentration, from doing one thing a well. A wood engraver, for instance, being asked why he did not take girls as appren- tices, said it was simply because they did not make it a life work as boys did. There was always- the thought of marriage, and they had not the ambition that inspired a boy whose lifework it was, and who endea- vored to excel. “ “'hy,” said Mercy, indiciiantly, “ do men think girls cannot do wor { well because they are so full of the thought of a possible husband. \Vliat an uncharitable idea. There are girls and girls-oaiid the world is just beginning to find it 0iit-â€"” “ Yes,” I answered, “ but would you blame the world for judging by past experience ‘5” The time is not far distant when every sensible girl will have a profession, or a. business, and if she lives at home, will all the same be a specialist in some department of the world’s work. , . Besides being useful, it is health to body and mind to have some particular pursuit or study, or work that-interests the mental and physical powers. I am always struck by this idea when in Boston, and though many jokes are made at the culture at the “ Hub,” there is a great deal of common sense in the method of being a, specialist, so long as it is not carried to excess, to make oneanuisaucc to any one else. . . Then when old age comes you will be able to follow your pursuit by the mark you have made and to fill your time with plea- sant remonibrances when you do not care to battle in the foremost ranks. “ I suppose,” said Patience, “ my-mark will be best seen if I get a dress album and put in a bit of each pattern I am making up. It will be easy to see them, and to be ‘reinembered for what I litre done.’ ” And then the sow- ing machine began to hum again, and each one went her separate way. So June comes to us, and we see the promise of the glorious Summer, as the morning gives the promise of a fair day. CHATEGUAY, Que. Choice Receipts. Bl-ZTHIJ’JIEM Arrm; Pinâ€"Linc a deep pie- dish with good light paste : cover the bottom with apples, pared, cored, and cut into halch ; put the round side down, and crowd in as many as possible; sprinkle over four heaping teaspooufuls of sugar, a teaspoon- fiil of cinnamon, and place here and there a bit of butter; bake in a moderately quick oven until the apples are tender ; scrvc warm with plain cream ; the apples should be fort and of such kind as will cook quickly. BHMLNAISE SAUCEâ€"«Put four tablespoon- fiils of water and four of olive oil into a small saucepan with the beaten yelks of four cg ys ; stir over boiling water until quite thick , beat until smooth ; take from tliefirc and when cold add a teas )ooiiful of tarra- gon vinegar and one of finely chopped pars- ley ; season with salt and cayenne. CREAM 0? C.\itiio1‘.<.â€"-Scrape four good~ sized carrots and grate them; cook a half hour in one and a half quarts of good veal or chicken stock : rub together two teaspoon- fuls of butter and two of flour : stir it in the boiling soup constantly until it boils, add one pint of new milk or, better, half cream and half milk. a temsjmnful of grated onion, and a palatable seaSoning of salt and pepper. I)m7mi.\'l,‘TS.â€"-llcat two eggs without sep- arating until very light zone and a half cups of sugar ; boat- agnin :ndd n linlfpint of milk and two cups (one pintlof flour, and beat until smooth ; melt two ounces of butter un- til soft, not liquid : stir itinto the mixture: add half teaslxmnfni of salt, half of a nut- meg. grated. two teaspoonfuls of inking powder, and sufficient flour to make a soft dough ;\vork lightly : roll out ;t:ut into doughnuts and fry in hot fat : to have them very: delicate liandlc as lightly as possible, V'Bnéin Sricks.-â€"$whl one pint of milk and addwhilc hot two ounces ofbutter; when lukewarm add a teaspoonful of salt, one Of go about their duties, and the sunshine gives garden where the roses bloom and the robiiis sing, but we are busy making up summer sugar, and about one quart of sifted flour : beat vigorously for five minutes add a half compressed-yeast cake dissolved in half a cup of lukewarm water, or half a cup of good yeast ; mix, cover, and stand in a warm place over night ; in the morning add the white of an egg beaten to a stiff froth and sullicieut flour to make a. "soft dough : knead for five minutes, then pound until soft and velvety: put back in the bowl un- til very light ; then take a very small piece of the dough, roll it out into a long strip about the size of a thick lead-pencil, and six inches long ; place them in greased pans : when light brush them with a little white of egg and water mixed, and bake inn quick oven ten or fifteen minutes. TonA'ro Passanvw.â€"Scald and peel per- fectly ripe tomatoesâ€"the little, pear-shaped are the bestâ€"prick with a small needle, add an equal weight of sugar and let stand over night. Pour offthejuicc and boil thick : add the tomatoes and cook until transparent. Flavor with lemon or ginger as may be de~ sired. BLACKBERRY on RASPBERRY Junâ€"Pick ripe, sweet berries, put in a kettle, mash with a large spoon : allow half apound of sugar to a pound of fruit. Cook slowly and carefully, stirring to prevent sticking, until very thick. Ci'RRAN'r J ELLY.â€"-â€"Pick ripe currunts froui the stems, and put them in a stone jar, mash them, and set the jar in a large iron pot and boil. Pour the fruit in a flannel jelly bag, and let drip without squeezing. To every six pints of juice add four pounds of sugar. Boil twenty minutes, skim. “'lieii thick put in glasses, let cool, and cover close. in a preserve kettle, let come to aboil, mash and strain. Put the juice on to lpil for twen- ty minutes, when add three 'uarters of a pound of sugar to every pint o juice, skim while boiling, let cook fifteen minutes. Green grape jelly may be made the same way, but will require a pound of sugar to a pint of juice. CRAB-APPLE JELLY. -â€"\Vash and wipe Si- berian crab-apples, quarter, but do not corc, put in a kettle, and cover with cold water ; bag. Put the juice on and boil twenty~fivc minutes. Add a pound of sugarto every pint of juice, with the juice of one lemon. Boil until itjcllies. ' QUINCE JELLY. â€"Cut ripe quinces in slices, put in a kettle and cover with cold water; boil until soft, strain, and put in a preserv- ing kettle; to every pint of juice add three quarters of a pound of loaf sugar ; boil until it jellies. ' _ ‘5 BEACH hIAiiiiALADnâ€"Peel ripe peaches, remove the seeds, put the fruit in a kettle with a little water and boil until reduced to a pulp ; run through a colander, add half a pound of sugar, and (boil carefully until stiff. QUINCB MARMALADu.â€"Pnre and quarter ripe quinccs. Put them in it kettle, cook until soft, add half a pound of sugar to every pound of fruit and boil until thick. ORANGE MARMALADii.-â€"Wash and wipe the oranges, peel and put the peeling in a kettle with a. little water, boil several hours; out the oranges and squeeze the juice and pulp in a kettle ; drain the water from the peel, and pound it fine. put with the juice, to which add a pound of sugar for every pint of juice ; boil one hour, when it should be thick and solid. Put in little cupgand cover with paper. ‘ i v ~ LICMOX MAituALAniLâ€"Peel lemons, and extract the seeds. lioil the peel until soft, add the juice and pulp with a pound of lemon. Boil until thick. oâ€"â€"â€"â€"â€" The Birth of Our Lord. “A German professor says our calculation of the Christian era is erroneous.” I find the above item going the rounds, with an added line which iucckly informs the reader that we are off four or five years in our mode of reckoning time. Four centuries there has been doubt as to the correctness of the accepted calculation of the Christian era. Learned historians cannot agree whether Christ was born in the year 747, 749 or 754, counting from the foundation of Rome. Prof. Sattler, of Munich, has published an essay in which he tried to reconcile the testi- mony of the evangelists with other historical data on this point. He has examined four copper coins which were struck in the reign of Herod Antipas, one of the sons of Herod the Great, from which he deduces the con- clusion that Christ was not born in 754, but in 749, after the foundation of Rome, and therefore that 1890 is 1895. This opinion the professor substantiates by what he takes to be corroborative testimony of the evangelists. ' According to Matthew, Jesus was born to- ward the end of the reign of Herod the Great, and that when Herod died Jesus was yet a little child. Luke says that James was born in the year which the governor of Syria made the first census in Judczi. In another place he says that John began to baptize in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, and in that year baptized Jesus, who was then 30 yearsof age. St. Luke says that in J udca the first census was made during the reign of Herod ; this census must have been ordered in the year 746 of Rome. l’robably it was begun in Judca in 747. Professor Sattlcr thinks it was not. made in Jerusalem earlier than 749. He finds that the four coins enabled him to make clear the testimony of the evangelist as to the fifteenth year of the Emperor Tiberius. Though Augustus died Aug. 19, 787, the reign of Ti erius must be counted from a year and a half earlier, from Feb., 786, when he was appointed co-regent; therefore the fifteenth year of Tiberius falls in 781), when John baptized Jesus, who was then about 30 years of ago. One of the evangelists says that Jesus began to preach fort "six years after the building of the tem 1c iylierod atJerumch. Now it is known t ml the temple was begun eighteen years after Herod was up inted regent by the Roman senate, or in t (2 year 734 from the foundation of Home. Adding forty-six to that year it gives 780 as the year in which (’lirist began to preach. lfall these calculations of Professor Rattler arc Correct then the Christian era began five years earlier than is usuallysupposcd. ‘1); flint many. (himsofd-I-‘thinldig’ll goth. tan‘da‘tn tricycle ,for ' wzn'dednd .53. 3 rs. Cumsovâ€"Indccd, Iwon't ride on such a thing 3 see how I like it." .3, . a”? v . ,1 . %¢:Mcl aim rn ~ â€"_ Copper~faced typesâ€"Indiii‘ns ‘_ golians. A man‘s face 3 against him when he has a gin phiz. One is company and two is ii crowd in a Summer hammock. A piece of limhurgcr cheese. is like a tack in one respect-“you can always find it in the dark. There is, generally speaking. nothing green about a widow, iiotwitlistiuiding her weeds. The college graduate is now looking about him for a job. It is the saddest period of his life. “Strau colt, this of youis. duck“ “How's that ‘1” " Yell, he's young and fresh, and yet he's a chestnut.” “ I hear you have fired your bookkeeper. \Vliy did you do so '3" “ Because he came to the store loaded.” A sulky girl may sometimes be cured by taking her out in a buggy with it sent just large enough for two. Elsie“u Did you know papa well before you married him, mamma 2” Mother (sadly) ~â€"” No, dear, I didn‘t.” “ But, Mrs. Brown, there are flies baked in this cake l" “ Oh, if you please, nia'ain, the most of what you see are raisins." Billiiigs~â€"“Well, my boy, are you satisfied with married life?" Benedictâ€"“Satisfied2 “'liy, I am perfectly satiatcd with it." Interviewerâ€"“ You began life as a clerk, d M on- G RAPE J shunâ€"Stem ripe grapes and put did 5'0“ 110‘ ?" Mel‘Clmlltâ€"“ N0. Sil‘ : I be- gan life as a king. I was the first baby." Here's a conundrum for this hot weather. A. “ \Vlien a young man steals a kiss, does he ‘ take the same from the girl or give it to her?" When a father is seen purchasing a pair of stout boots it is not always an evidence that be is on bad terms with~ his daughter's suitor. “Johnson married well?" “He did. His wife foots the bills. I hear." “She’s cook until soft. Strain twice through it jelly able to. is she .2" u 0]“ Yes ; she’s a Hmnib ton girl.” An Irishman seeing ii. Chinainun rcadingit Chinese book backward, as is their custom, exclaimed : “Johnny, are ye left-handed or only cross-eyed 1'” People go to the mountains and the sea- side to do nothing, and yet where young couples are congregated business is usually passing in the evenings. Sheâ€"“ It will be a pleasure for me to share your troubles and anxieties.” He- “ But I haven’t any.” She~u Oh, you will have when we are married !” “I am sober and steady. I was ten years in my last place and five in the one before that." “But where was the last place you worked '2” In the central prison. ’ She (reading the paper)â€"“Anothcr cy- clone out \Vcst! It has await dozens of farms clear of everything.” câ€"“I’ll bet the mortgages didn't budge an inch.” A Hopeless Effortâ€"“\Vlmt is that on the l bald man’s crown 1'" “That is a fly." l “Is the bald man goin r to kill it 1" “He is going to try to kill it, int he won't.” Mr. Bluzayâ€"“Thnt‘s Miss Rosebud. She's eighteenâ€"an age I don‘t care for in women; neither hay nor grass, you know." Mr. Boy- biid (enthusiastically) â€"“No, it's clover." I)octorâ€"â€"“\Vliat is your husband’s com- plaint, ma’am ‘.' It is chronic ‘3" \\'ifcâ€"~~“ch sir. I have never known him to be satisfied. with a meal for thelust thirty-five years." If brevitv’s the soul of wit, Tis easy, quite, to see How men whose fancies liveliest are So often “short” should be. Sunday School'Tl‘caoher-”Wliat can you say about the moral condition of Sodom '3” Pupilâ€"“He was a- thundering bad man, but not quite so badas his (Wife, Gomor- rah.” ‘ . ’ Fakirâ€"“Necktics, suspcnders«â€"”llaiiiil- ton Man (liuuglitily)â€"â€"“l)o I look like a man who’d wear a twenty-cent necktie 2'" Fakirâ€"“Vell, I liuf some for wnccnts, mis- tci‘.” She (entliusiiistically)â€"" (Hi, George, don’t you think the greatest joy in life is the pursuit of the good, the true and the beautiful '1" Heâ€"â€" “That's what I am beta for.” . _ Benevolent-J‘Wcll, Fritz, ynii got whip- )ed in school to-day 'I” “Yes, but it did in t hurt." “Butyou oertainlyhnvc been cryin 7?" “Oh, I wanted to' let the teacher have a it- tle pleasure out of it.” Retaliation : The schoolma’am seeks vacation’s joys, Her labor being done, 5 And she who tainch the little boys Is now tanned by the sun. McMackinâ€"~“Didn't yez phrmnise mc tli p’sition av dog-drowncr if I supported yoz '1" Alderman ()‘Fcnelly--â€"“()i did not." Mc- .\lackin--o“llivin bless th’ pliunogmpb ! Lis- ten t’ th’ wurruds ycz said." “Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Valentine. I supposeâ€"«ha ! ha I -~yoii were borne on St. V alcufinc's Day." “ That, doesn't follow-~«nny more than that you were born the first day of April, sir." Irate Youthâ€"“Sec here, Duzcnbcrry did you tell Sparrowgrass that I couldn’t be counted on to pay my debts '1” lluzcnbcrry ~-â€"“I did not. On the contrary, I told him you could be counted on not to." Young \Vifeâ€"“ Do you love me as much as ever ‘.'" Young liusbaiidm“ I reckon no." Y.\V.â€"â€"“\Vill lalwayu be the dearest thing in the world to you ‘3" Y.ll.---“I reckon so unless the landlord raises the rent." 'l'oiiiiiiyâ€"â€"“l’uw, what in the «lifl’crcnco between ‘impellcd' and ‘comjwllcd '3' " M r. Figgâ€"-“\\"hyo~crâ€"‘it-~I was impelled to marry your nmthcrmnd now I am compelled to live with her. Quite a difl'orcmm !" “Marriage is indeed a lottery." sighed 'l‘omnodd , after a tiff with his wife. “And we both dim-w prizes," returned the lady. “Ah 1" said T., somewhat mollificd. “Yen: you gota capital prize and I took the booby." A.~“l)id you hear that the thief and dcupcmdo, liickabut Jar-k, had been killed?” ll.--â€"“No. Died with his boots on, I nop- pose." A.-~“ No, imlccd. 11:: died with another man’s “boots on. Robbed a flux: store.” .‘f -* Hayseed (taking his seat in a photograph- er‘s chair)-â€"~“ “hit 1:. minute. Don't you give nothing 3’" Photograph”.--“What do you mean. furl" Hay-iced -y“[’drlikc in take gas or chloroform, I'm a bland-d poor band to stand sufferin'."