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THE FAMIL.T KKCORD. 0. #*•'• " Ay! wrtc it down in black »nd The dat«, the age, the name; For lumio has u'-YIT seemed so deaf .»••.' . As place our baby came ! - ' Ko child before has BEEN BO sweet, , - And never l>abe t^o wise: . • .. Aad. Jobn ! the neighbors say--inawttl^" It has its father'* eyes »• Kay, wife! I'm fnre they're like your own-- The rogue's his mother's boy! , How strange that such a tiny form .t C»n "'ivo si;.-h boundless joy! And you will liave him named for me? Come, thirk it oYr apain ; For John is but a homely name--" '• Nay! do not drop your pen. ^ "For John shall be his name,, my dear-- It i« father's own; And a hundred more were giwn^ 111 call t'lni that alone. ' Ilia-father's eyes. hi.-, father's face. , . His father's form, T'nT rure ! God sirant he have his father's heart, Life's hardships to » udure J" " Well, there ! tis written down at last; The record is complete; 1 Henceforth well lay onr loving heart* Beneath otir baby's feet. Ah. wife ! our lioa.e's a humble place-- We're humble folks--that's irue; But I'm a kltig with boun<l)e«8 wealth lo that yourg rcgue and you I " So. baby, wink and blink, my boy 2 Your mother's eyes--" "Nay! John! They are his fa her'a eyes, indeed-- Th^t X jSiiiet uji"w ! ' "Well, be that as it may, his mouth Is waiting for a kiss. Ees like you there, at least, my dear! bay, do I judge amiss ?" THE OUTSIDE CARRIAGE. / although not unconscious, I did not know much of what was going on about me. - When I came thoroughly to myself, I found that there had been an accident on the line. The cutting through which we wore passing had given way, blocking up the rails, and the engine had been thrown off. No one was seriously hurt, fortunately ; but it would be some hours before the line was cleared sufficiently tor the train to proceed. The passen­ gers could wnlk back to the junction,and wait, till the line was clear, or they could nit still in the carriages which had not left the line. For myself, I preferred to remtun by the side of the railway, and watch the operations for clearing it. By and by the moon rose upon the scene. We were in a cutting of loose sandy soil; on the top of the banks was a fringe of trees which, I found, formed a portion of a wood of considerable size. Several small trees had fallen down with the saud that had slipped from above. The land-slip had made a gap in the bank, and there was a sloping m;)SS of debris between the top of it and the level stray engine. At that moment I remem­ bered the face I had seen in the window of the carriage outside. For the first time it struck me that the two points where the footpath impinged on the line were the two points at which the phan­ tom face had appeared. It almost seemed as if it were some ghostly creat­ ure that haunted the wood. I folt a mo­ mentary tremor at the thought. My nerves were a little shaken, and this harmless jpiuewood vra» to me as some baneful inclosure from which I could not escape. That was folly, of course ; a few minutes' run would bring me safe­ ly to the spot where the train was wait­ ing. I did not run, as my blood was chilled. But half way through the wood I was stopped. Right in my path, staring at me with distended eves, was the specter face. The moonlight broke through an open­ ing in the wood, and there it waited for me. The face was all I saw at the moment, but it belonged to a figure--a pale gray figure. I was not exactly frightened, but a little awe-struck. At moments of the line. Three or four platelayers | such as these it isn't the reasoning facul were already busily at work shoveling ties that are at work Often, going home from town by the night train, it is my lot to travel alone for a great part, of the way. It is a slow, often-stopping train that I go by, and people get in and out ; but generally, before the journey is finished, I find myself alone, and sitting with lay face to the window in the corner. X look out into the dark night, and watch the car­ riage outside--a spectre carriage, that is empty like this, except for some one sitting in the corner too, close by my elbow, the brim of whose hat I can just Bee as I lean forward. Perliaps, if I oared to look round the corner, I migMt see his face ; but that I don't wish to do. Ijet him bo a mystery. The carriage travels patiently but •wiftly alongside. Its lamp flickers like • beacon among the trees. Its window •Bd its seats are like ours ; but it is a part of the landscape too, and whatever we pass mixes itself up with it. Some­ times in a dark, overhanging cutting, .the carriage outside shines forth quite real and distinct; sometimes in the open country it becomes dim and uncertain, and only, its lamp, like a star, tells us it is still there. Then it will come into sudden being again, marked with the brickwork and dripping walls of some dark tunnel, and then will vanish alto­ gether, broken up and destroyed among the flaring lights of a station ; but it is waiting for us still outside, as we know full well, and when we pass once more into darkness it will'appear as before. One night as I was going home from London tired and depressed--my heart was heavy with forebodings of evil, there was no comfort for me anywhere--dark­ ness and gloom encompassed me. I was all alone in tne carriage, and I sat weari­ ly thinking, with my eyes vacantly fixed on the carriage outside. How much better your lot, I thought, than mine, my friend, who's hat brim 1 can just see the point of; how much I would give to be you, looking in at this carriage of wood and leather, with it's flickering greasy lamp and its sad sordid passenger--you, who travel outside •morg the trees and the twinkling stars! Whfit do you know of the ills of life, of its lonelin< ss and oppressions ? You don't care for its doled-out joys, for its troubles that come in double handfuls. There may be truth for you, looking out from non-being to being ; there can be none for me, looking out from that which is to that which is not. I grew quite in love with the thought df sitting in the carriage outside ; but there was no way to it ihat I could see. I could only gaze into it longingly, and watch its lamp rhat was now shining among the dark of the trees; for we were passing through a wood. - Suddenly I saw, in the further window of the carriage outside, a human face, white and ghastly, pressed against the shadow of the glass. It was there but for a moment, and when I turned to look in the real window of the real carriage, I could see nothing. I let down the glars of the opposite door, and looktd out, thinking that some one might have been standing there on the footboard. But there was no one. Presently the train came shrieking into a junction station, where there were lights and passengers waiting, and bar­ maids in towering hair chattering at re­ freshment bars with young men : and I lost sight of the carriage outside, and almost forgot the face that I had seen. But when we went out into the dark­ ness the face came again, peering in at ihe window of the carriage outside, and this time it stayed a moment longer, but once more, when I turned to tue real W1m^ow' ^ere was nothing there. Then I saw no more of it, and I reach­ ed hom. and didn't think any further °*tne PWom *ace* having so many other troubles that were not phantom at all, but real and urgent. llr^n*he veJy Bight, I was travel­ og home from London by the same S twTM. When I took my seat that I had this delusion, as I thought, about the face, and I looked out for a carriage which was well tided As we went along, however, we dropiSd passenger after passenger, and finals I was left alone. When we came to the pine wood I tarred my eyes resolutely away from the glass ; but as wa flashed through it, I thought that it wouldbe better that I should no longer turn away my eyes, but look boldly into the glass mid thus dissipate the idea that there had been anything but a mere nervous fancy in the apparition that I had before seen. I saw the face again, peering through -the wiadow of the carriage outside. Then I began to think tbat my friend, who sat on the other side of the panel, was perhaps not so enviably situated after alL There are shades attendant on shadows, it appears, and ghosts have other spirits to haunt them. This face that was glating in upon the man out­ side, had it any representative in the world of sense ? I could not tell; but as soon as we had passed the lighted junction, I seated myself on the oppo­ site side (,of the carriage, and put the window down. At that moment there was a violent concussion : I was thrown forward against the opposite side of the carriage, and for a few moments, away at the sand, and the officials had telegraphed for a lot of ballastmen, who would be down in half an hour. The night was fiue, and the moon, as I have Said, had already risen. The dark fir- wood above looked mysteriously invit­ ing. I made my way up the slope of the bank, and found myself in the gloom of the wood. There was a footpath, I saw, that led away into the darkness. The pleasant calm below, the fresh fragrance of the firs, the whisper of the wind among their tops like the murmur of an agitated sea, the dim vistas on either side like the aisles of some darkened minster- -these things led me along,aud I followed the path into the recesses of the wood. It <fid not lead me far. In about half a mile I suddenly came to an opening in the wood, and found that I had reached the railway at another point. In fact, this was the main line, and the path was a diagonal to the right angle, formed by it and the branch along which we had traveled from the junction. As I stood peering out from between the stems of two young fir trees looking up and down the line, I became con­ scious that somebody was watching me from below. There was a small signal box by the side of the line, which was not, as far as I could see, connected with any signals; and from this box I was pretty certain that I had seen a liumun head protruded and rapidly withdrawn. Curiously enough, too, the glass f window at the side of the box, whicn ought, I thought, to look up or down the Line, looked sideways, so that anybody in the box could watch the wood without being himself per­ ceived. Now I felt convinced that some one was watching me from this window. I determined to make certain. There was a kind of track sideways down the cutting, which was not a deep one, and I lightly descended this to the level of the rail. It was darker down here than in the wood even, for the moon had not yet cleared the tree tops. I made my way cautiously along, crossing the line so as to get, as it were, on the blind side of the signal box, and I had almost reached it, when suddenly a figure sprang from the box, and I saw a steel barrel glisten in some stray ray of light. "Who g->es there?" shouted a sol­ dier's voice right in my ear. "A friend,' I said, calmly, although I was a little startled. My challenger had a policeman's lamp hung to his belt, the light of which he turned full upon me. " I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "I didn't startle you, I hope." " You did a little," I said. " I didn't know that our railways were so well guarded. What's your regiment, sen­ try?" " Oh, I'm not exactly a sentry," said the man with a sort of laugh. And yet he looked like a soldier, he had a car­ bine in his hand, and wore a military cap. •• " What are you, then ?" I asked. "I'm a warder of the convict prison." " Ah," said I, " then you are looking out for somebody t!' "Perhaps I am, air/' said the man re­ servedly. " All right; good night," I said; and thought to myself, "If you are, I hope you won't catch him. For my own part, I know of no more wretched fate than to be entombed in one of our English convict prisons. Their order, their silence, scrupulous cleanliness, their inexorable system, ap­ pal ther~soul far mare than clanking but the inherited fantasies, the influence of traditional superstition. I remembered that a j spirit must be spoken to before he would ' speak. "Who are yon, and what do you want ?" I cried. "Keep your distance," muttered a voice, or 1'U drive my knife into you." All in a moment the explanation of the whole affair flashed into my mind. This was no phantom but an escaped convict. " My friend," I said, "lam not a po­ liceman ; I am a harmless traveler. Let me pass ; I'll not betray you." "flow will I know that?" said the fig­ ure, in a deep husky voice. The situation, I felt, was one of real peril. I was not far1 now from the land­ slip. I could hear the men's spades at work--could hear their voices. Should I shout for help ? No, I wouldn't do that. I thought of the men standing on watch with their loaded carbines, and the figure looked so wan and miserable that I felt sorry for him, and would have liked to help him. Aid yet he would probably cut my throat. " I'll give you my word I won't betray you," I said. " Put your knife away ; I don't like the look of it." " Well, I'll trust you," said the man, looking at me keenly for a moment. " After all it doesn't much matter. I'm tired of this work, God knows, and you can get the reward if ye plase." » " Thank you, I'm not a thief-taker," I said, for I didn't like the man's tone. "Who was it said the word thief to me?" he cried fiercely. " I beg your pardon," I replied quiet­ ly, " I ought to have said murderer, I suppose ?" " Be jabers, there's some one will say that of me before long if ye rouse me to desperation," said the man. " Come, pass on, whoever ye are." "Now, look here," I said ; "if you're not a thief or a murderer I'll help you." I suppose I oughtn't to have offered ttiis. I dare say my duty, strictly defined, was to assist the officers of the law to recap­ ture the convict; but my sympathies are with the mice against the cats, possi­ bly because I'm something in the way of a mojise myself and know th<a three touch of Grimalkin's claws." " * "You'll help me!" cried the man, seizing me by the hand--it wasn't a fel­ onious kind of a grasp, either. " You're a good fellow ; but how ? Look you here," he said, taking me by the arm ; " I've been out of yonder pandemonium for three days, and all that time I've not tasted fooa or drink, except the acorns I've picked up under the oak yonder, and the fain-drops " that I've sucked from the leaves. I had a bur­ row, mark you--one that had been made for me beforehand--and that I crept in­ to when the hue and cry was first raised ; but its all in ruins now ; the earth has slipped and buried it up entirely. And they know I'm in the wood, and at every fifty yards round it there's a man with a firelock ; but I'd not mind for them if I'd the strength to run when I got out; but I haven't, I can hardly crawL I thought to get away last night, and risked my life by jumping on the train as it passed; but there was no empty carriage I could creep into, and the train was running into the station and I jumped off. And then I tried again at the other end of the footpath by my hole in the ground, but then I missed my footing and fell backward just as I had reached a carriage, and but that the train was going slow I'd have been killed. The night was dark, by good luck, and nobody saw me, and I crawled back1 to ptit my head outside the wood I should be popped at like a tabbit at a battue; but I meant to stay in the woods for a while. A fir wood is a nice, dry, fra­ grant place to pass an hour or two in. There are ants, unfortunately, that build great conical nests out of the twigs tliftt are scattered so thickly on the soft, hol­ low-sounding flooring--fierce, combative brutes, who bite liice demons; and in the night one is apt to stumble over these •colonies. But here was a nice, clear spot, where I could lie with my back to a broad timber fir and fay to snatch a little sleep. I awoke with a start. A man was standing over me--a man with a lamp in his hand, the light of which, flashed into my eyes, had awakened me. It was the warder I had seen before. His face was distorted with passion. - "Confound you!" he cried, "you have ruined me with your cheating wiles; but I will be oven with you, scoundrel, i will kill you, and pretend that I shot you trying to escape. He clapped his carbine to my ear; there was a loud report--a series of reports. "Now, sir, if you please, your tick­ et," cried the guard, his lantern flaring full upon me, and I came to myself with a gulp and a start. After all, had I been taking a journey ill' the outside carriage ?--BeJgravia. chains and noisome dungeons. I don't my hole and lay there all this day, and know whether, after all, 1 hadn't as soon be a prisoner as a warder. The prisoner must stay there ; and it is wonderful how a mind that is at all healthy reconciles itself to the inevitable; but to be awarder and know that you can get out, at the sacrifice of your bread and butter-- In­ deed, gracious powers, I should think that the temptation to dance a jig down the corridors and snap your fingers at the governor's beard would after a time become irresistible. Well, all this time I'm standing on the when night came on again I thought I'd try once more. You see the men's eyes are off the wood for a minute when the train comes past. Well, I did it to­ night ; I jumped safe and clean on to the footboard, and I found an empty carriage and I crept in and hid myself under the sate. I could hear the palers jabbering to one another, and they took stock of every nian that got into the train, and then the doors were slammed and the train went off, and says I, 'Mike, you're free !' And then there line and a train is coming along. I don't was this miserable stoppage. I bore it care to stand too close to one of those j all till then, and then I bruk down. It lumbering avalanches with a whiff of the j seemed as if the powers of heaven were sulphurous breath of the engine in my face, and I reach once more my perch on the top of the bank. Here she comes, laboring and screaming and vomiting forth flames and red smoke, as working engines do. A goods train, evidently. against me. You'd best leave me to it, sir." # "Listen," I said; "the watchers know I have entered the wood; they will watch for my coming out.. You shall put on my overcoat; it will cover Are there distinctions of classek among j you down to your knees; and my hat-- engines, I wonder? The rough-working j you must take my hat; and here, you'd one, who uses bad language and smells | better take my ticket too," I said, rather unpleasantly; your middle engine who j ruefully, handing out my return ticket, deals in the best white steam, and is I "My carriage was the middle eompart-1 shiny with brass and quite respectable;! ment, secona from the engine. There's and your high-caste engine, who drags ! a railway rug of mine on the seat; wrap r*.yal personages and special trains, and i it round your legs, and if anybody looks """" at you the convict trowsers won't show. Go and take your seat, and read the pa­ per till the train starts, and I'll stay in the wood." It was Wonderful with what alacrity my friend carried out all my suggestions. In another five minutes I was standing all alone in the wood, shivering in the chill October breeze. What a lonely vigil that was! And yet there was a warmth at my heart that Prevented my feeling desolate, although knew that I had broken the law and had likely enough done a very perni­ cious action. I heard the train puff away, and with it passed my chanoe of getting home that night. Probably if I goes to race-meetings and meets dis anguished foreigners at Dover, and is fed with the finest coke and supplied with perfumed waters! This, at all events, is one of the lower orders ; and yet it is not a goods train that it is draw­ ing, it is a train of empty trucks crowded with men. Ah, yes, it is the ballast- train, and a gang of men to clear the line, and that is a signal for me to make my way through the wood once more, or else I may be left behind. . And yet somehow I didn't like plung­ ing into the wood ; it seemed so dark and lonely. It was far safer, however, along the line, where I might be knocked down unawares by a In the Halls of Justice. " My name is Ambrose," said the pris oner as he came out. There was something solemn and earn­ est in his tones--something which touched one's heart. You have heard the wild winter gales sob and sigh and moan around the gables, haven't you ? Well, his voice didn't sound a bit like the moan of a gale. It was a voice re­ minding one of something very far off-- the Rocky Mountains, for instance. Some voiceB are full of Badness, And some are loaded -with joy. And some are so tinged with sorrow and grief that their tones strike a sym­ pathetic chord in every heart. His Honor sighed heavily as he husk­ ily replied: "So your name is Bamboo, eh ?" "Isaid Ambrose," remarked the pris­ oner, " but you call it Bamboo. I've been Bamboo-zled so much and so often that I don't care whether I have any name at all." "Oh, I wouldn't be down-hearted over it," said the Court, forcing a smile. "Yoirare not the only drunkard in De­ troit." " I know it, but I'm tired of trying to do anything or be anybody. Every time I get a dollar ahead, or a clean shirt laid by for Sunday, or the heels of my boots fixed up, and begin to feel as if I was somebody, old Ambrose gets me drunk, and down the hill I go." " Who is old Ambrose ?" " Here--me, and he's a mean man. What ails him is whisky, and I might argue and threaten and blow around till my ears got cold and he'd keep right on. I have fallen by the wayside, your Honor, and by the roadside, and by the backside and the frontside, and blow jfaur eyes, Judge, if I ain't sick of it!" The prisoner wept. " And you want Ambrose sent up, do you ?" " I do, Judge. Lift him for all he's worth ! I'll go along with him, and if I can get him where he can't guzzle whisky I'll make a man of him. Say ninety days, Judge, and I will sing : " So good-bye Mary Ann, , You must do the beet you can.*' He was ninety dated.--Detroit Free Press. Dull Great Men. Descartes, the famous mathematician and philosopher; La Fontaine, cele­ brated for his witty fables, and Buffon, the naturalist, were all singularly de­ ficient in the powers of conversation. Mormontel, the novelist, was so dull in society that a friend said of him after an interview, " I must go and read hin tales in recompense to myself for the weari­ ness of hearing him." As to Corneille, the greatest dramatist of France, he was completely lost in society--so absent and embarrassed that he wrote of himself a witty couplet importing that he was never intelligible but through the mouth of another. Wit on paper seems to be something widely different from that play of words in conversation which, while it sparkles, dies ; for Charles II., the wittiest of monarcbs, was so charmed with the humor of " Audibras" that he caused himself to be introduced in the character of a private gentleman to Butler, the author. The witty King found the author a very dull companion, and was of opinion with many others that so stupid a fellow could never have written so clever a book. Addison, whose classic eleganoe has long been considered the model of style, was shy and absent in society, preserving even before a single stranger formal and dignified silence. In conversation Dante was taciturn and satirical. Gray and Alfieri seldom talked or smiled. Rous­ seau was remarkably tame in conversa­ tion, without a word of fancy or elo­ quence in his speech. Milton was un­ social and sarcastic when much pressed by strangers. An Allegorical Work. At a late meeting of the Manchester (England) Literary Club, there was ex­ hibited a little boo\ of ten pages, which, excepting the title, does not contain a single word. It is a religious allegory, in colors--the black, which spreads oyer the second and third pages, denoting the unregenerate heart of man; the fourth and fifth, which are as red as a rose, indicating redemption; the sixth and seventh, which are white portray­ ing the condition of the heart after it has been washed in the blood of the Lamb; while the concluding pages, of sliiniiag gold, symbolize the golden fe­ licity of the saints. The Wreck of an Air Ship. The Schroeder air ship, which, accord­ ing to the inventor's claims, was going to carry fast mails between the principal cities of the country, and which subse­ quently would fly across the Atlantic in some incredibly short space of time, came to an unfortunate end recently. The machine, nearly finished was care­ lessly left in an exposed, situation over night, on a common in Baltimore. A | strong gale arising tore it from its fasten- i ing, and converted it into a useless and | shapeless masE of 'broken boards and wicker work. STUPENDOUS BANK ROBBERY. i. Particular* of the Raid on the Northamp­ ton (Mass.) National Bank--Upward of •700,000 In Securities Abstracted. Boston papers give full details of the ""recent raid by masked robbers on the National Bank of Northampton, Mass. The result is something appalling. The table of securities taken shows a total of $670,000. The account states: The robbers entered the house of Cashier Whittlesey, and bound, gagged and guarded for hours seven people. They compelled him to give them the combination of the safe vault, waited until they knew the night watchman had gone home, and then, getting into the vault and safe with only one of the four keys needed, they took a large amount of securities. An expert, had to be sum­ moned from .New York, and the lock was not opened until at an early hour this morning. Cashier Whittlesey, when asked to give the three combinations to the vault for the outer and inner and chest doors gave them wrong twice and thrice, but the burglars wrote them down and made him repeat them. Of course they caught him in the attempt to mislead-them, aad the exhibition of a pistol compelled him to tell the truth, though he told them that four keys were necessary to open the patent lock, three of which were at the other bank offices. At 4 o'clock a. m. Whittlesey was taken to a down-stairs bedroom. " The whole family were gagged, and four of the bur­ glars withdrew to operate on the bank. Three hours after, Mrs. Whittlesey suc­ ceeded in freeing herself and giving the alarm from a window. The whole party were speedily liberated, ana the cashier, still wearing the handcuff, went to the bank. A clever workman soon after fitted a key, and all the persons hand­ cuffed were released. An examination of the bank showed that the cracksmen had unlocked the outer door, but were apparently balked by the safe lock, lock­ ing three of the requisite four keys. They tried the metal of the door with bars, and wrenched off two dials which served as an index for working the com­ bination. " There is every indication that six, and perhaps all of them, left on the 6 o'clock train. At latest advices no information had been received of the robbers. The table of funds taken is as follows: Missouri State bonds, $15,000; Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad shares, $5,000; Lake Shore and Michigan Souths ern shares, $3,000; Chicago, Burlington and Qitinoy eights, $1,000; Cleveland, Columbus and Cincinnati, $2,000; Union Pacific, $44,000; Ohio and Mississippi, second mortgages, $165,600; United States bonds, $55,000; Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, $15,000; Ft. Wayne, Jack­ son and Saginaw, $12,000; Ogdensburg and Lake Champlain, $6,000; Missouri Pacific, $30,000; registered stock and bonds of the United States, and various corporations, $350,000 to $400,000; greenbacks and national bank bills, $10,000; Detroit, Lansing and Lake Michigan, $7,000; New York and Erie bonds, $7,000; Maine State bonds, $10,000; Hudson River Railroad bonds, $5,000. Of the total amount stolen the loss of only $12,000 falls on the bank. The heaviest individual sufferers are as fol­ lows : Ex-Judge C. E. Forbess, $100,- 000 United States six per cent, bonds, registered ; $28,000 five per cents, reg­ istered, and $7,000 national stocks. Henry Hirchley, $60,000 United States bonds ; Henry Bright, a large amount of negotiable bonds ; J. S. Lathrop, $30,- 000 in Georgia bonds ; John Warner, $14,000 negotiable bonds ; William Gay- lord, $50,000 United States bonds. Mrs. L. M. Turner, Dr. S. A. Fiske, Richard Kingman, and Horace O. Collins are also among tbe principal sufferers. A small safe in the vault, which the burglars considered too insignificant to touch, Contained $30,000 deposited by Harvey Kirkland, and $25,000 in bonds belonging to the Hopkins Academy, and other valuable property. By looking the doors of the vault, the burglars got twenty-four hours start of the detectives. During their stay in Whittlesey's house the robbers showed wonderful jollity and coolness. The family numbered seven, and all were bound and gagged, the burglars running short of rope and dis­ patching the servant for the olothes-line. The men were rather a jolly set, inciined to pay some attention to the comfort of their victims. They advised the wo­ men to put on three pairs of stockings, so that the binding ropes would not cut them. One of them casually remarked that he had noticed Mr. Whittleseyrs fine watch at Watch Hill, R. I., some two years ago, and tried to claim acquaint­ ance with him from that time. This watch they took, but Mrs. Whit­ tlesey slyly pitched hers under the bu­ reau, and so saved it. They picked her tine cloak out of the bureau, and she said, " Give me that old thing; I'm cold," and gained that. The burglars, who wore kid-gloves, were disguised by masks made from the legs of satinet drawers, with places cut for the eyes; long linen dusters and blue overalls." BLANCHE AND NELL. BT PAUL H. Who Invented the Telegraph. According to the Allgetneine Zeitung, Samuel Thomas Soemmering was the inventor of the electric telegraph. Ho made known his invention in 1809, and it was adopted by Baron Schilling von Constatt, who made experiments in Munich in 1811, made improvements in 1820, and exhibited the apparatus at a scientific congress in Bonum, 1835. Prof. Munke, of Heidelberg, was pres­ ent, and afterward constructed an ap­ paratus which he showed to William Fothergill Cooke, who went to London in 1837, and with Prof. Wheatstone took out a patent for the purpose of in­ troducing telegraphs on the English railways. The first telegraph station in England was built at Euston Station in July, 1837, but a fornight before that telegraph communication had been es­ tablished between the Academy of Sci­ ences m Munich and the Observatory in Bogenhausen. A SOUTH BRIDGE, Mass., man, " tightly slight," cams in contact with a tree. As quick as thought he raised his hat, beg­ ged pardon, anil passed on. Three other trees having met him in this uncere­ monious manner, he doffed his cliapeau, and placed it under his arm, backed up against the fence in apparent meditation. A friend passing at the time inquired what he was doing. He replied "I am waiting for the procession to pass." O BIUMIM Hit a city lady Bedecked in ber silka and lace; She walks with the mien of a stately QBMI, And a Queen's imperious grace. But Nell is a country maiden, Her dress from the farmstead 16om, Her step is as free as a breezn at sea, And her face is a rose in bloom. The house of Blanche is a marvel Of marble (com base to domej It hath all things fair, and costly and But alas ! it is not--home! Nell lives in a lonely cottage On the ehores of a wave-washed isle • And the life she leads, with its living deads The angels behold and smile. ' Blanchc finds hrr palace a prison. And oft, through the dre-iry years In her burdened breast there is Bad'mmaL And her eyes are dimmed with tears. ' But to Nell her toils are pastime, / (Though never till ni^ht they cease); And her soul's afloat like a buoyant boat On the crystal tides of peace. Ah J Blanche hath many a lover, But site broodeth o'er old regret; And the shy, sweet red on her cheek la dead. For the day-star of hope has set. Fair Nell! but a Bingle lover Hath she in the wide, wide world ; Yet warmly apart in her glowing heart Love biaes, with liis pinions furled. To Blanche all life seems shadowed, And she but a ghOBt therein; Thro' the misty gray of her Auttuon day Steals voices of grief and sin. ;; To Nell all life is sunshine, - All earth like a fairy sod. Where the roses grow, and the violets bloir. In the softest breath of Qod. What meaneth this mighty contrast • Of lives that we meet and mark ? One bright as the flowers from May-tide One raylesp, sombre, and dark. O, folly of mortal wisdom That neither will break nor bow; That riddle hath vexed the thought perplevsd Of millions of souls ere now! O, folly of mortal wisdom! From your guesses what good can come? We can learn no more than the wise of yore; 'Tis better to trust, and -be dumb I Pith and Point. RETICENCE is the comeliest child of common sense. POOLS are now sold on where Charley Ross will turn up next. DURING the cold snap, 'hitch M to some warm-hearted girl. JUDAS ISCABIOT'S thirty pieces of sflyer were worth about $18.25. DON'T throw dirt in your teacher's eyes. It would injure the pupil. DON'T worry about the ice crop. Keep cool, and you will have enough. OUGHT to be allowed to sit down--A merchant of 40 years' standing. PUNCH defines " fashionable ex­ tremes" as high heels and low fore­ heads." WHEN does rain seem inclined to be studious? When it is pouring oyer a book-stall. THE paternal equanimity receives a terrible shock from being called a " Gen- enmal crank." YOUNG Clarence Fitz Lavender writes us to say : " I sot me down in thought profound-- This maxim wise I drew: It's easier far to luv a gal Than maik a gal luv you!" As tne last stroke of 8 o'clock died away, Quiz sat down his coffee cup and remarked reflectively : " It's curious now, that a clock never uses its hands to strike with.--Cincinnati Times. MRS. AMY RIGGS advertises in a Texas paper that she is able to whip either one of the two women she saw walking on her husband's arm a few nights before. What an Amy-able woman she must be, eh?" * "JOHN HKNBY," said his wife, with stony severity, " I saw you coming out of a saloon this afternoon." " Well, madam," replied the obdurate jjohn, " you wouldn't have me stay in there, would you ?" " PLEASE accept a lock of hair," said an old bachelor to a widow, handing her a large curl. "Sir, you had better give the whole wig." " Madam, you are very biting, indeed, considering that your teeth are porcelain." THERE are two words in the English language that contain all the vowels in regular succession, and if a person is willing to live abstemiously, and not re­ gard this statement facetiously, he will see what the words are. A FOOL and knave with different views, For Julia's hand apply; Tbe knave to mend his fortune sue*, The fool, to please his eye. Ask you how Julia will behave ? Depend on't for a rule, If she'd a fool shell wad the knave If she's a knave, the fool. --Buffalo Expretz. A YOUNG man in Indiana went out and drowned himself because a sensible wo­ man told him he was "too young to marry." "I am not too young to die, at any rate," was the last bleat thin moon­ calf uttered. And he was right; it was high time. ^ HERE is a noble examplo of doing good work for one's mother-in-law. Four burglars stole $1,200 of aPottsville, Pa., widow, Wednesday night, and her son- in-law shot two of them, captured a third and recovered all the money. Young men will please observe this heroic ex­ ample. TIIARE iz a greate menny rules to make married life eumfortable, out the golden one is this : Go slow, and give eaoh other haff of the road. This rule im az simple and easy az milking a cow on the right side, and will be found usephul az ile to avoid hot journals and dri axles.-- Josh Billings. A BANBURY couple have a nioe little daughter of some five summers. A lady vis tor observed to the mother, "What a pret ty child you have. She must be a great comfort to you." " She is, indeed," said the fond mother. "When I'm mad at John I don't have to speak to him. She calls him to his meals, and tells him to get the coal and other things that I want, bhe's real handy." Costly Elephants. Turkey has fifteen immense ships of war, which cost nearly $2,000,000 apiece. They he idle in the Bosphorus all sum­ mer, their only use being to fire salutes every Sunday when the Sultan goes to mosque. They never go to sea, and if they did would founder in the first gale, for they are very unwieldy, and the Turks are miserable sailors. The only voyages they make are when in the spring they are taken out of the Golden Horn and anchored in t.ie Bosphorus, a distance of about two miles; aud when in the fall •they are taken back to their winter quar­ ters in the Golden Horn.