ppppp , V-t. ' -„S-*•« *x y v : ffinVWSVQp iP»i' •• T *JLr*UP I * v»r* ^ "»*; ,<SC * ,;*r $, ^ • **£' f ;^-s i V?" * Hv« <l * VM? V^V'/' T O © / , v " * • ^ ^ v re* .^7v^R;^CF: ̂ >V<<; v- ?V'.; ̂ vv<** ̂ ...f®L .. V:^ >,^ ' - I. VIM SLYKE. E (liter and PofclWm. MeHENHY, ILLINOIS --~4# tBR POKE BONNET. Ifen tnnrli 1 admire ibe bcwitobln^pofce bon ne!, Which half hides the roses thai bloom in ber Why, Cupid, I know, has bis throne there upon Concealed In its trimmings of mull or of lace. Tbe style isn't new, tor our grandmothers wore it, And they were not wanting in beauty or Bract; Their grnndiianithteie love it, the young men adcr it-- Tlu eharming pose bonnet that hidew a sweet face; * ftio ravishing bonnet, the exquisite bonnet, Bewildering bonnet, i hat shades a sweet face. The fair, shapely head is half hidden within it, And part o the bean! itul face disappears-- How of .en I've kis-ed th3 lips glowing warm in it, ' The while the coatee fibers were tickling my ears. Away with the hat with the feather npon it! Within my affection 'twill n/er have a place. Ob, ghe me themi ll-trimnled, the coarse straw poke bonnet, The hear;-snaring bonnet that shades a sweet The beautiful bonnet, the exquisite bonnet. The ravishing bonnet that shades a sweet -^•S^tnerviite Journal* NHW MOON WISHES. \ 'ij "" ." '*_ ^ <Tit^ -Once when the new moon glitMMd J - .'* • ^ o slender in the west. -1 looked across my shoulder . ./ v ?i* And a wild wish stirred my bfaajb. = -j • V Over my white right shoulder * I looked at the silver horn, , ; ^ , .And wished a wish at even, ,i , To come to pass at morn. . '• , sV*' . 4'i-i iV.» • Whenever the new moon gllttefed. So Flender and so fine; I looked across my shonlder And wished that wish of mlno! ^iow, when the west is rosy. And the snow wreathe blush below, And I see the light white crescent •' gink downward soft and slow. li?!"" t mi • t never look over my shoulder, ?'!• As I used o look before; ' For my heart is older and colder, t i And now I wish no mere. ' -ifiCie Terry. ii If'1 . MERRIMACK. " Iim sore no one knows how Merri mack came by her queer name. She <ua not know herself, for when she came to my mother, in the old slave- times, a tall girl of 17 or 18 years of ' age, she retained bnt tbe faintest idea of her childhood's home or her parents. She had been taken from them when , too young to remember anything. "Dey's called me Merrimack, mis- trees, eber since I could 'member," she said. "I reckon dat's my lawful name. Anyhow, it's all I'se got." Of coarse, she became Mack in all the household, and an invitable Mack she proved, honest, capable, industri ous, but with a sharp tongue, which no consideration could bridle. She was fond of us all, but my brother Eugene, a boy of 12, was her favorite, probably because he was a puny, sickly boy who needed constant care. She would hurry through her work to take him to walk of an evening, and they would march off to the woods, she tall, lithe, and strong, lilting him over the rough places, her clear, loud voice and his shrill merry laugh floating up to us as we stood at tbe window. "I don't know what we should do without Mack," mother would eay. "How entirely Eugene depends upon her, and it seems to me he is getting better and stronger since she came to us.** "I suppose it's a transmission of vi tality," I answered, laughing. "Mack , has enough for ten ordinary people, and Eugene almost lives with her." My mother shuddered. "For mercy's sake; Augusta!" she said, "don't talk in that manner. Do you snppose I want a negro's vitality infused into my son ?" "Not if it means health and long Jlife?" I asked rather saucily. Poor, dear mother! She was fall of Tace prejudice; so much so that the im- 3mlse3 of her good heart were some times stifled by them. She was kind '•to her slaves in a lofty way, but she did not allow herself any simpathv for "them. She never spoke to them on any other subject but their work, and if tliey were sick, she had them well at tended to; but so far as any interest in their thoughts and feelings was con cerned, the mistress and her slaves were as far apart as the poles. She called this maintaining discipline. She had been trained to consider it the only way to manage slaves, but some times the warm woman's heart stirred "within her, and she would have been glad to unbend. She was rather ap palled at my heretical opinions, and the freedom with which I expressed them, and this particular afternoon she was evidently troubled in mind. "flow often must I request you, Au gusta, not to talk in that disagreeable manner?" she said. "Mrs. Staunton was here this morning and asked me if I was not afraid to trust Eugene to so much of a 'nigger,' as she calls Mack. She said children leary nothing but •vulgarity and superstition from colored nurses, and she would look upon her self as a criminal if she allowed her children to be contaminated by inti mate association with the race." "It was unladylike, to say the least, > of Mrs. Staunton to take you to task in that manner," I cried angrily. "Why didn't you tell her that what you did was none of her business ?" "And be as rucbe and intrusive as the woman herself?" mamma Baid, scorn fully. "Unfortunately, I felt there was ' thrush in her words. I have been thinking more of bodily health than of the moral injury which may be inflict ed upon my little boy." "But, mother!" I cried, "I never heard Hack express any sentiments that you might not have expressed yourself. She certainly is not vulgar. She may not improve Eugene's grammar, but •he will never injure him." "That is bad enough, I think. Why, AM mortifies me by saying 'dis' and ,dat' and'tings.' I must try and undo the evil, and wean Eugene from her. If I can not, well, useful as Mack is, I must part with her," and she turned away with a heavy sigh. I knew too well what that meant It meant selling the girl to any man who would give the price asked for her, without inquiring whether he was a IHftte or a human master. I was but a in those days, but this phase of the slave-dealing had pressed pain- m|yr npon me from my earliest years. I no special regard for Mack be- that excited by her general use- •. Wife tho idea of her, or of IQJ flfW* paople, passing into the hands of ©W General Cammack was horrible to >. mi "*» He was our neighbor, and was al to purchase slaves if he flojud get them at a bargain. The tales toW of his cruelty used to make me :rpN4der whenever 1 saw him, which gg'i^jf^l saldom ; for during his lifetime my ^Nppjpet aV<^|dted him, and since his death Of ^other rarely received visitors. i£~" •Hi- ft - f - «fe Yet I knew j&rfeotly well, thai it Bfaolc was offered for sale, he would purchase her. It was useless to rea«on with mother. If she took it into her head that it was her duty to part with Mack, she would do it at all cost to herself or any one else. I could only save the girl by giving her timely warning. In a few minutes I slipped eut of the house withont being observed, and made my way to Eugene's favorite haunts where ho usually spent the long summer afternoons. It was pretty little dell, festooned with vines of the Carolina jasmine which Mack had trained from tree to tree, until roof of foliage was formed. When the jasmine was in bloom in early spring, the perfume from its goMen bells was almost overpowering, and "Eugene's bower,'* as we called it was marvel lously beautiful, with its hedge of pink and white azalias on one side, and a carpet of green moss- and violets in front. I found Eugene sitting un der a large cak tree, while Mack, crumpled up, with her feet un der her, was spelling busily from a primer he held in his hand. "Halloo! if here ain't 'Gusta!" Eu gene cried. "Come here, and listen to Mack readin', and don't go and tattle to ma. She'd bust up our school in a hurry if she knew, and that's whv we keep it close. Do you know, Mack didn't know 4a' from *z* when she begun. Now read, M vck, for Miss'Gusta, and let her see what you know." While Mack was stumbling through her lesson, which she was literally grinding out by the sweat of her brow, Eugene contemplated her with pride. "There now, ain't she smart ?" he asked. .. "She's a credit to you and herself," I Said, smiling. • Mack gazed adoringly at her small teacher. "He's banged a heap ob larnin' in my thick skull, and I reckon nobody else could hab done it. Oh, ef he ain't an out-and-out angel!" and forgetting the dignity of his office, she snatched him up and hugged him rapturously to her bosom. It mother could have seen the golden curls of her darling mingled with Mack's wool! "Run home, Eugene," I said. I want to speak to Mack a minute. She'll catch up with you before you get half way to the house." He obeyed reluctantly, looking back every minute to see if Mack was fol lowing:. The girl stood with her eyes full of surprise, fixed upon me. Ihard- ly knew how to begin, so plunged at once into the subject. "Mack, you love Eugene, and you don't want to leave him ?" "Leab Eugene!" she repeated, her quick mind grasping instantly some one of the dire possibilities which were ev er present in the minds of slaves. "O Miss 'Gusta! wot is de matter? Who's gwine to take me away ?" "Listen to me," I Baid. "People are trying to get your mistress against you by telling her that Eugene should not be allowed to be with you so much. She dees not want to part with you, but this troubles her, and for your own sake and his you must keep the boy from you as much as possible. Don't walk with him, and be as cross as yon chootfe, so as to wean him from you. Do you understand me ?" It wa? not necessary to ask the ques tion, for I saw she understood perfect ly. Her lips quivered. She covered her face with her hands, but she did not shed a tear; tears were not in Mack's way. "He wos all I cared for in de worl'. Miss 'Gusta," she said, in a choked voice, "and de onliest one dat lubbed mei G od knows he wouldn't be harmed by me. but I'll bo cross and bad and keep him away. Caze my skin's black, folks think my heart's black too. O Miss'Gusta! Miss 'Gusta! how hard dat my boy has to be tuck from me!"' I hurried away, with my wail still in my ears. From that day Eugene's fret ful comi>laints were constant. "Mack won't let me stay with her. mamma," he would cry. "She's just as cross as two sticks. I don't know what's the matter with -her. She won't go walkin', nor fishin', nor she won't tell me stories. I want to go to Clear Creek to day, and she says she can't go, and you won't let me go alone." "I suppose she's tired of the boy," mamma said, fretfully. "I'm positively worn out with his perpetual com plaint." a*#' "But I thought you wanted to wean him from Mack V" I asked. "It's for tunate for him that she keeps him away from her, isn't it?" "But she need not be cross to him, and so disobliging. He gives me too much trouble of late. Augusta, tell her she must go to the creek with him this afternoon." When I told Mack, her face lighted up with delight. "I done as you told me, Miss 'Gusta," she said, "but Eometimes it 'pears like I must jest cry out. My boy beggin', and pleadin' to stay wid me, and I 'bliged to be so cross and ugly to him. But won't we hab a good time dis after noon !" I must tell the story of that afternoon as I heard it. After a happy, merry afternoon Eugene was returning home holding Mack's hand. He was attract ed by a clump of strange-looking moss, growing in a rut in the middle of the road, and dragged Mack with him to look at it. The ground was wet, and they were so much absorbed in taking up the moss, and chatting, that they did not hear the faint sounds of a horse's hoofs behind them. Mack, turned, and saw General Cam- mack coming round a sharp curve of the road. He was almost upon them. She had only time to push Eugene out of the road, and spring after him, when the horse and horseman rushed by, actually touching her as they passed. General Cammack drew up, and turned a red, furious face to them. Eugene was pale as death, and covered with mud from head to foot What do you mean, you impident nigger," he thundered, "by getting un der my horse's feet with that ohikl ?" __ "I nebber heerd yom, sir. We wos jist pickin* dat moss when yon corned along." "You're a liar!" he stormed; "you lazy, triflin' black varmints always do keep the middle of tbe road. Don't look at me like that, you sassy wench. I've the greatest mind in the world to give you a good lickin*," raising his heavy horsewhip in the air. "You shan't!" screamed Eugene. You're a bad cruel man, and you kill, your niggers, everybody says, bnt you, shan't touch m ne." The puny little fellow planted him self gallantly in front of Mack, and fixed defiant eyes upon the burly ruf fian. For a few minutes General Cam mack gazed at him as if petrified, and then his red face because purple from rage. "You've been well taught, my young |inanfn he cried with a grating laugh, ["andyou do credit to your teacher ni iiM il f wattttate thaiim- pident wench sorry for this day's work." Mack gazed after him as he galloped off, with terror in her heart. "He's gone to Wood vale," she groaned ed. *-0 Eugene, he's gone to your ma, and O my God! my God 1" and throw* ing herself on the ground, she sobbed aloud." Eugene ghzed wonderingly at her. He d d not know what she did, that it would take little for her mistress to decide to Bell her. "I tell you mamma shan't scold yon even," he said. "Don't be so silly. Mack. What are youscard at? Nobody shall trouble you when I'm around. Can't I tell what happened as well as that bad old man, and don't you think mamma will believe me, instead of his lies V The poor girl rose to her feet, and tried to compose herself. We'll go home now," she said. '1 want to know de wnrstest at once." ' When they reached Wood vale the sight of General Cammack's horse fastened to the rack at the front gate made poor Mack shudder. Simon, the dining-room servant, met her as she en tered the hall. "Mistiss told me dat you was to come straight to de library, Mack," he said. Dat ole satan Cammack is dere, and, dat means trouble fur you, I'm feared." Mack walked steadily on,with Eugene at her heels. I was near the library* door when she entered, and I saw ai quick tremor run through her frame. For many minutes before that, 1 had| felt an insane wish that some of my* male frisnds were there to chastise the old wretch, who sat near my mother, pouring out his venomous falsehoods, for falsehoods I knew they must be. Come here, Mack!" My mother was pale and nervous. "General Cammack tells me you have been most insolent to him, and that through your careless ness, Eugene was nearly run over." I was proud of my little brother when he stepped forward, his brave, frank eyes fixed on General Cammaek fall of contempt. "It's not true, mamma," he said. "I made Mack go down into the road, to help me pick moss, and General Cam? mack he came tearin' round the bend right upon us. We couldn't hear him, the ground was so damp. What do you always race along that way for?" to the General. "You're forever runnin' over people and dogs, and that's why folks call you the 'Wild Huntsman,' I reck on." :Hush, sir, instantly," my motherj said, terrified at his boldness. Well, Mack never said a word to him, but just answered him politely," Eugene persisted. Leave the room, Eugene," mother cried at her wits' end. General Cam-1 mack smiled grimly. "Oh, I take no offense at what chil dren say, my dear madam. I under stand perfectly that your little boy isj only repeating the lessons taught himj by that insolent negress. As your friend, I must tell you that the people are talking of your indulgence to that) negress. It's a bad precedent, madam,1 in a slave-holding community, very bad,! and it injures us all. Why, all our nig-: gers would expect to be pampered in the same way. Take my offer into conj sideration. Remember I hold myself in readiness to give $100 over any offer you may have. You'll be obliged to. sell her at last, for you'll find thati public feeling will be dead against you, if you do not. I will be here to-mor row at noon, madam, for your answer." "But, General," my mother began. J'©h, suit yourself, madam. It is from pure friendship I make the offer, and to get you out of an unpleasant position. We will talk the matter over to-morrow," and he bowed, and took himself off. "Surely, mamma, you do't think of selling Mack to that monster," I cried. Mack stood still and tearless in the center of the room, and Eugene gazed at us bewildered. "I don't know, what to do " mamma cried, nervously "He says the girl was impudent to him, and though it may not be true, everybody else will believe it. That man will go round from place to place, prejudicing my neighbors, against me. I can't live here unpro tected as we are, if that happens. I can't bear to be held up as an Aboli tionist, and be shunned by every one. No, there's no help for it; Mack must goC Eugene threw himself on the floor with a loud cry, and instantly was struggling in a strong convulsion. Mack's stony face softened, and in a minute she was sitting on the floor with his head in her lap. t Oh, my honey, my honey," she wailed; "see, he's comin' to," and she lifted him on a lounge, and stood up-, right before my mother. Mistiss, you'se gwine to sell me to, dat bad man, but 111 cheat him yet." I She stooped over Eugene, kissed himj tenderly, and swiftly passed out of thej door. 1 Her meaning flashed instantly upon: -.2, and I rushed out only to see her running toward the river. Before I could reach the bank, I heard a sullen plunge, and knew the desperate girl had taken the fatal leap. Fortunately, two men who were work-, ing on the levee had seen Mack throw] herself in the water, and one of them, a good swimmer, jumped 'in after her, and when I reached the spot he had caught her, and was swimming to thq shore. It was some hours before she recovered consciousness, and weeks be-^ fore she left her bed. All thought of parting with Mack; ended with that scene. In fact, Eugene was threatened with convulsion when ever reference was made to that day. During the Civil War she remained with us faithful and helpful. When stripped of means of livelihood, her strong hands brought us through many stormy day. It was all for Eugene's sake, we knew, and when our poor boy grew paler and weaker, he was never out of her sight for a minute. At the very last, he insisted upon laying his head on her bosom, and having herj sing to him one of the old hymns in which they both delighted. In thatj position, while we thought he slept, hej passed into the better land. Mack is a prosperous woman now,, well married and with a cosy home of| her own, but she is faithful to the. memory of her "precious honey," and! in her unselfish regard for those he loved.--Youths Companion, , a Fwmllar Plrorw tHHws a WlJb~Tlu> H.ii. "Over the North Bfanpjton road;" says a letter from Bye Beach, .New Qamp- shire, "is a home in which nan and wife live who have not spoken to each other for many years. It was long ago when they separated, and there was some talk of a divorce at the time, but the neighbors argued them out of it. She claimed he hadn't spoken a pleasant word for five years to her, and he claimed she hadn't cooked a meal of vituals in all that time that was fit for adeoent man to eat. So, instead of going into the divorce courts as oity people do, they deoided to live sepa rately." "He gave her half of the house and kept the other half for himself. He took the daughter and she the son. The girl cooks his meals and the boy eats with his mother, and works on the farm with the old man. They get along pretty well, seldom seeing and never speaking to each other, but with the children and neighbors both are so ciable enough. It has been going on so for a long while, but I reckon they will have a reconciliation before they die. The old man would be willing to kiss and make up any time, but the old wo man is as obstinate as thunder and says she will never give in." "Down the road a piece is another queer family. The man is one of the richest farmers in all these parts, but he treats his wife like hired help, and pays her nine shillings a week wages. When she is sick he docks her, and she has to buy her o%n clothes out of these wages as a servant girl would do. They never had any trouble that I know of, but are never seen together. They go to different meeting-houses, and act for all the world just as if they weren't married. If they had children perhaps it would be otherwise, but they were never blessed that way." "Does he do this because he is stingy?" "A good deal so, but it was an agree ment they made before they were mar ried, and I never heard that cither of them were dissatisfied. She seems to think it all right, but most women wouldn't stand it" "But speaking or stingy men, the old fellow who drove you over in the stage is the worst I ever saw. He always collects his money nt the start, because several years ago a passenger from New York or somewhere died on the way over, and the old man never got his fare. He doesn't propose to be beat out of another fifty cents in that way. Passengers can do whatever they like for all he cares, but he proposes to get his money before they do it." "They say he used to keep a livery and feed stable, where farmers who came to town put up their horses and fed them. A shoe factory 1 failed at Haverhill, and the old man went over' there when they sold the assets at auc tion. He bought a wagon load of shoe pegs, brought them home and put them in an oat bin. When a farmer put up his horse the old man would give the animal four quarts of shoe pegs and charge fifty cents for them. It was a dark barn, and the owner couldn't tell them from oats. "Of course the horses wouldn't eat any and the farmer would get scared because they had lost their appetites. The old man had a mixture which he recommended in such cases, and which he had sold at fifty cents a bottle. It was harmless stuff, and was made by stirring up thistle tops or something of that sort, but it had a great reputation, for the horses would be given a dose before they started and another when they got home, and having nothing but shoe pegs all day, they were hungry enough to eat their own heads off by the time they got a taste of oats." "The ciedit ot the appetite was given to the medicine of course, and the old man got a big reputation as a horse doctor and made a mint of money out of his thistle-top soup until the shoe peg business was discoveved, when he quit the livery business and went to driving stage." " Ben Franklin's Latli. *Tve lost thousands of dollars just1 by putting my name to the most inno cent looking bits of paper you ever see. No, sirree. Don't you do it" "But I can tell a sharper as far as I can see him." "So yon think now, but you are too self confident. Don't you trust any body. Remember old Ben Franklin's advice: 'Sign qua none.'"--Philadel phia CalL_ MEDIOCRITY is the dry rot that para lyzes progress. " Bismarck's Opinion of Orators. Emmanuel Kant denounces eloquence as a deceiver who, in matters on which reason alone ought to decide, unfairly permits the aesthetic feelings to have the casting vote. Goethe, in a letter written from Venice in 1786, calls him self an "enemy of wordiness." Nor is the Chancellor of the German Empire much enamored of the Muse of skillful speech; and she, on the other hand, does not seem, if we may judge from appearances, to be particularly well disposed toward him. "These eloquent gentlemen" (in the Reichstag), said he to me in February, 1870, "are really just like many women who have got small feet, and who wear their booAs too tight, and show their feet in order that they may be admired. In the same way, when a man has the misfortune, to be an orator, he makes speeches which are too long and too frequent." And at Verseilles he told us that "the gift of eloquence has done a great deaj of harm in parliamentary life, for every one who thinks ho is able to speak must have his say, whether he has anything worth contributing to the discussion or not. There is to much spoken irrevelantly, and too little to the point. Everything has been settled in the party meetings long ago. So when people talk in full parliament they do it to. please the public, and show them what they can do. or still oftener to please the newspapers, which can compliment. The consequence will bo that eloguence will come to be looked upou as a public nuisance, and w;ll be punished accordingly, when it is guilty of a long speech." Bismarck, however, possesses much real eloquence, at least in the estimation of those who care to distinguish between the matter and its mere outward form. He is certainly no orator in the ordinary sense of the word. His parliamentary utterances "have hands and feet," aa we Germans say. They influence men because they are founded on solid facts. And we cannot help admiring in them his depth and breadth of view. He IB too con scientious to beat abbut the bti.'-h with high-sounding but shallow or unmean ing phra es, loo truthful to try to pro duce an effect l>y a mere exhibition of sophistry, and too thoughtful to care for gratifying his audit nee by a smooth ly flowing stream of words. He suffers, too, from a certain amount of nervous ness, is of a warm and rather excitable temperament, and lias a voice which, to say the least of it, leaves something to be desired. Even in private conversa tion, particularly when lie is discussing any matter of importance, he cannot always exprrss his thoughts quickly and in well < hosen language. On the other hand, he tells a story capitally; and a rich vein of humor, a quick eye for the ridiculous side of men and things, and a gift of quietly ironical, yet good-natured description of persons and events, all of which he possesses in no ordinary degree, make him one of < '• ;J • ' the Kibe! dflflghtfnl raconteurs I ever heard afford amusement to a social gathering inter pocula--Morits Busch, in Harper's Magazine* A Neat Swindle. •Hold on, young man !M shouted the proprietor of a down-town restauiant, as a well-dressed person started for the door, after getting a check from the waiter on the plea that he had lost his. "There's your money, on the desk," answered the youth, pointing over his shoulder, and still hurrying toward the door. But he was intercepted by a waiter and forced to take a seat, until another young man had finished his re past and came forward. "I've lost my cheek," said the second young man. "Oh, you have?" answered the grim cashier. "Funny that both you fellows lost your checks. That dinner will cost just $2." The young man went down into his pockets, solemnly fished up $1.50, bor rowed a half dollar from the first young man, paid the bill, and together they departed. "Pretty smart dodge they have got," remarked the proprietor. "They took me in once, but they will hardly do it again. It's a superb swindle, and en ables them to get $2.00 dinners for 40 cents." "Impossible!" "Nothing impossible about it, and the clever part of it is that they steer clear of the law. You see those chaps came in a little part, as if strangers, and sit at the same table. One orders a $1.50 or $2.00 dinner, and the other a cup of coffee and a roll for ten cents. Both receive checks. By and by, the coffee- and-roll young man passes his ten cent check to the other and comes np alone to the counter. When he gets here, he says like the first one who tried to get out, 'the waiter forgot to give me a check.'" "But the waiter knows better," ven tured the reporter. "That's where you're mistaken. A waiter frequently neglects to give tick ets. Sometimes he forgets it; perhaps he thinks the customer will order more or, mo# likely, he holds it in the hope of getting a tip. So he does not doubt the truth of the assertion, and says 'Ten cents.' The fellow puts up his dime and walks out "Pretty soon the other fellow finishes his good square meal, drinks the last of his claret, saunters up, when several other customers are paying, lays down the ten-cent check his partner passed him, covers it with a ten-cent piece and walks out, picking his teeth. Of course the cashier don't know what he has had and the 'racket' may be worked for an indefinite period, and can only be found out through an accident. I happened to be looking when the check was pass ed." "But that is only one $2.00 meal. When does the other come in ?" "Why, they meet outside, go to an other restaurant, and play the same game; only the $2.00 man becomes the ten-cent man this time. Economical and sumptuous, isn't it ? Those chaps only lack luck and influence to get to be bank-cashiers."--New York Com mercial Advertiser. Five Cents a Day. The cumulative power of money is a fact very generally appreciated. There are few men living at the age of seven ty-five, hanging on to existence by some slender employment, or pensioners, it may be, on the bounty of kindred or friends, but might, by exercising the smallest particle of thrift, rigidly ad hered to in the past, have set aside a respectable sum which would material ly help them to maintain their inde pendence in their old age. Let us take the small sum of five cents, which we daily pay to have our boots blackened, to ride in a car the distance we are able to walk, or to procure a bad cigar we are better without, and see what its value is in the course of years. We will suppose a boy of fifteen, by blacking his own boots, or saving his cherished cigarette, puts by five cents a day; in one year he saves $18.25, which being banked bears interest at the rate of five per cent, per annum, compound ed of bi-yearly. On this basis, when our thrifty youth reaches the age of sixty-five, having set hliswfive cents per day religiously aside during fifty years, the result is surprising. He has ac cumulated no less a sum than $3,1)83.18. A scruntiny of the progress of this re sult is interesting. At the age of thirty our hero had $395; at forty, $878; at fifty, $1,667; at sixty, $2,8*62. After fifteen years saving, his annual interest more than equals his original prin cipal, in twenty-five years it is more than double; in thirty five years it is four times as much; in forty-five years it is eight times as much, and the last year's interest is $86, or ten and a half times as much as the annual amount he puts by. The actual cash amount saved in fifty years i-i $932.50, the differ ence between that and the grand total of $3,803.18--viz., 970.68. is accumulated interest What a magnificent premium for the minimum of thrift that can be well represented in figures.--Anon. The Court Adjourned. It was a quiet day in court. The flies, unmolested, played tag over the bald head of the crier, and the clerk was dreaming of sherry-cobblers among the cool breezes of Nantasket. Some women were fanning themselves on the spectators' benches. "What is the charge?" languidly in quired the Judge. "The embezzlement of 10 cents, your honor." The Judge aroused himself; a fiend ish light glistened in his eye, and he shouted, "Then, off with the prisoner to the penny tentiary I" The crier awoke with a start, and fell prostrate; three women fainted, and the clerk jumped to his feet and clutched an inkstand, but the Judge had departed, and the const was ad journed.--Ex. • ' • Has Quit. Card in Nacogdoches (Tex.) Star: Look here boys; for nine years I have been making a perfect beast of myself; bnt rialit here 1 stop. There is r:o use trying to drink a 1 the whisky that Bud Houston, Sam Sapp, and others can bring here; we can't do it. Let's quit light now, and see if we can't have more friends, more money, and more comfort at home. My friends in future will do me the favor "by not asking me to drink, as I can not honestly take one drink without waking a beast of my self. Yours truly, M. L. MAYATT. From the Mouths or Children. "Let's play we are married," said lit tle Annie to little Dick, "and you put your arms around me and kiss mo and • tell me you love me. Won't that be nice ?" "Yes; but don't let's be married. You be a nurse and I'll be some other little girl's husband. That's the way papa &olbs.a--Nevo York Times. :• * HIBTTOT OF A "GOD BLESS YOU!" A baby in the car had sneezed and a jolly little woman sitting next to it had made the involuntary exclamation ac cording to the traditions of her coun try. The passengers looked at each other with a smile at the brief prayer so quaintly spoken, but there was a touch of nature in it they all liked. But when a great, hulking man in the corner sneezed, too, as if the thing were catching, and then looked as if he ex pected a similar blessing, they regard ed him with disapproval. And yet he had more need of the "God bless you" than the baby. But the legend does not include grown people. Did you ever sneeze in church? Ev er have a feeling go all over you with a creepy, crawly sensation, and some thing tickle the inside of your nos'e, as if a fly were creeping up, and then make the awful discovery that you are going to sneeze right out in meeting in the most solumn part of the sermon ? Now the tickling has got into your ear and the roof of your mouth. mo7e- >'ou se«m to foel The thrill of life along your keel," And all over you--ach--ach--ch--ch-- "The impenitent sinner sits there," says the minister, who is using you as an illustration--"there!" he points a long forefinger and pauses--there is a pause that is painful--it's coming arms and legs are extended, the roof may fly off the meeting house, or off of your head. * "Ach-ch-chew!" ; ' It is over ; you are all shaken up and so is the congregation. Nobody ever sneezed just once. From two to three is the orthodox number of sneezes, just as misfortunes never come alone! You remember the story your father used to tell, of the old gentleman who, worn out with a repetition of sneezes! cried out to himself : ' "Go on! sneeze away, sneeze your head off, if you want to; I don't care." By the time you reached the third, you would just as soon keep right on sneezing as not A WEEK OF SMBBZBS. Sneeze on Monday Sneez j for danger, Sneeze on Tuesday Kiss a stranger. Snoeze on Wednesday, Receive a Utter; 8n°eze on Thursday, Something b tter. Sneeze on Friday, Expect sorrow, Sneeze on Saturday, Joy to-morrow. There is meaning in the phrase "not to be sneezed at," though it is curious how it could have originated. There never could have been a time when people sneezed at things they disliked just as a dog barks at will. A rhjme^ ster asks: ,/ "Wi'l somebody tell me why it is That wheuever a womnn sneeze!:. A sort of deprecating smile Begins just as she ceases?" A Yassar girl turns up her nose aft sneezing. She calls it a "sternutatory convulsion." In a popular novel all the contin gencies hang on a sneeze. Just as the long expected proposal comes, the her oine, who is intending to do and say the romantic thing, gives a terrific sneeze and blows away all the senti ment of the occasion. It is no use to try to suppress a sneeze. Come it will, and the more solemn and quiet oc casion the more likely that the sneeze is to come. It is impossible to compute the mischief one able-bodied sneeze can do.--Detroit Free Press. A Good Word for Hoinely Girls* Why are homely girls always the best scholars, the best workers, and make the best wives ?" This question was propounded by an observant and intelligent gentleman who has been twice led to the hymeneal altar, and is reader to be sacrificed again. "Is such really the case ?" "I have reason to know that it i|\ l£ is natural enough, isn't it ? The girl who is handsome in feature and form concludes very early in life that these are her stock in trade, and with them she enters the matrimonial market. Nine times out of ten she is soon off the hooks and at the head of a house. Her homely sister has hardly entered her teens until she discovers she is made to stand aside for the pretty faced girls. All that neatness of dress, elegance of manners and proficiency in the arts of making one's self attractive she does, deliberately and for a purpose, perhaps or possibly for no other reason than, Topsy-liko, she grew that way." "The chances are she does it solely for the purpose of compensating for her lack of physical beauty." "My observations lead directly to the opposite conclusions," replied the in telligent observer. "There is among the great laws of nature one known as the law of compensation, and 1 am thoroughly convinced that to it the homely girl is indebted for the tastes and disposition that prompts her to make herself useful when she cannot be ornamental." "Then, if you had the choice of two ladies, one beautiful and the other homely, you would take the homely one?" 'Experience and observation both teach me that would be the wise thing to do. The first impulse would natur ally be to take the prettier of the two, but I would give the first impulse time to pass off, and act upon sobor second thought" The old gentleman may be entirely right in this matter.--Pittsburgh Dis- patch. What Ailed Him. Uncle Simon enjoyed being siok and having a fuss made over him, and lie sent once some distance for a promin ent physician who, after he had exam ined him, said solemnly: "You are full of idiosyncrasies." "Full of what?" gasped Uncle Simon. Idiosyncrasies. Medicine will not help you; so I needn't wast any of it upon von." "That's the end of it Hannah," he said to his wife when the doctor v^s gone. "I kuew my case was hopeless. Yew'll be a widdernow in dead earnest." and he sent for his lawyer and made his will. -- Xut he is alive to-day, has a new cork leg, and is learning to ride a bicyle.--- New York Star. • Nothing Mean About Him. A man who has schooled himself to repress any inclination towards lavish liberality tells a friend to buy him a lottery ticket, adding that if it draws a prize they will go halves. In due course the lottery comes off and the ticket draws a valuable clock. "My poor fellow." he said to his friend, "I'll be hanged if I see how to manage it exactly. If I had drawn a money prize, or a ca*k of wire, or a pair of anythings, I could have divided with you, but a dock . Still there is one way we can arrange it. Come and see what time it is bv our clock whenever yon want to."--Exchange. PITH Aim PODTC. IT IS said that a good book is the best companion a man can have. This Is especially so if it happens to be a bank-book. IN Tazas fthe mosquitoes are so an noying that even Maj. Penn, the dis tinguished revivalist, cannot keep the congregation asleep.--Texas Sittings. AN old French soldier recently died in Michigan at the age of 98. Had he lived a few years longer he would have been old enough to start out as a "boy preacher." _ HEARD at Saratoga: "What is that girl's name ? She looks very awkward and rustic at this garden party." "I don't kaow exactly, but I should say she was a Miss Fit" ̂ "IN what condition was the patriarch Job at the end of his life?" asked a Sunday school teacher of a quiet-look ing boy at the foot of the olasa. "Dead," calmly replied the boy. NEW style cabman (to military chap on the avenue)--"Hansom, Captain?" Supposed military chap--"Well.y-e-s-- so they tell me." Cabman (sotto voce) "The bloody mugwump." INNOCENT wife: "What do you mesa, Charlie, by 'straddling a blind T I should think it was so much easier to ride a rail, if that isa way you have of initiating men at the club." BLUFFKIN and his wife had been in dulging in a family discordance, Mid finally Mrs. B..exclaimed: "Well, I've got my opinion of any man who talks as you do." "O, have you? Well, you can keep it if you want to." "No, I can't, either. It's so awful bad already that it won't keep." "BROWN is the most quarrelsome man in the world. He drinks hard and is always in debt." "I know it" "And yet he is your friend ?" "Yes, we never had a disagreement sinca I knew him." "How have you managed it?" "He no necessity to quarrel with ma I never lend him any money." "I TELL yer wot, boys," exclaimed old Ben, the roughest man of the camp; "I tell yer wot, boys, it made a feller feel kinder water round the lids to hear that little chit of a thing a-settin' up thar like an angel a-sayin' her prayers so cute; 'Mary had a little lamb,' or sunthen er thet sort"--Pari* Free Tongue. Two CITIZENS of Utah recently strug gled for the possession of a watermel on. The stronger of the twain was victorious, and was about to walk off with the prize when his antagonist pulled a knife and stabbed him in the heart. Danger lurks in the watermel on from every conceivable point of view. The safest plan is to eat clime* --San Francisco News-Leller. THE SHIP COMES IN. For year s we liavj waited. In tops and iu K1<?«>, Watcliinu' tlu billows,' heanning th s a, For our Bhiji on the ooean. Lad n with gold, To com J and enr.oh ns * Th • tal is soon told; No Ion.- er we're waiting, j For sorrow's our cup{ Th* 8hip has c( me in, _i , , But it's bottom-Sid? up. --Philadelphia Vail. AN old woman named Gordon, in the north of Scotland, was listening to the account given in Scripture of Solo mon's glory, which was read to her by a little female grandchild. When the little girl came to tell of the thousand camels which formed part of the Jewish sovereign's live stock--"What!" cried the old woman; '"A thousand Camp bells, say ye? The Campbells are an auld clan, Bure eneuch; but look an' ye dinna see the Gordons too!" AN old fellow who lives among the Ozark Mountains came to Little Bock to visit his son. "Well, father," said the soa when the (dd gentleman had betA in town several days, "how do you like the city?" "Pretty well, but I ain't got used to the whisky. That liq uor up there iu the jug seems to have a quar taste about it." "Great Caesar! you haven't been drinking out of that jug." "Yes, but as I say, the liquor tastes quar." "My stars, father, you have been drinking turpentine!" "That so ? Well as I said, it tastes quar. I didn't know but that it was the way with all town liquor."--Arkansaw Traveler. isfci'"' J'-~. •' _ _ ^ ___ ( . . The Young Parson's Retort. Bishdp Wilmer, Protestant Episco pal, of Alabama* is one of the readiest men with retort to be found in the States. His first parish was in Virgin ia. At a certain company, where all the gentlemen of the neighborhood were, the young clergyman was present. There was also present a man noted folr his infidelity as to Christianity, and for the roughness of his manners and speech to those by whom it was pro- fe sed. This skeptic soon began to talk at the youth lul parson, who prudently :ade no reply. The enemy became more aggressive, and, addressing him directly, * aid: "Mr. Wilmer, you don't seem to like to talk about religion and the Bible." "Yes, sir," he replied: "I do like to talk about it to people who are earnest and respectful in their treatment of it" 'Well," rejoined the assailant, "if you lwil answer me one question I will lot you off." Mr. Wilmer said: "Sir, I do no > know that I care to be let off from any thing, but ask me the question, and if it is a proper question, and if I know the answer, I will give it to you." "Well, sir, I have asked all the preachers I have seen, and none of them could tell me, and now 1 ask you: _ What became of the body of Moses when the devil and the arch-angel had a dispute over it ?" It was a trying question for the young theologian, and a trying occasion, for the assembled company all silently awaited his reply. He quickly arose from his chair, walked across tlie room, stood directly in front of his antago nist, and said, firmly and respectfully: "Sir, thut question does not concern you in the least" "Why not, sir?" "Because it is perfectly certain that- no such angel will ever have any con test with the devil over your body." What They Do. --Customer--See here, sir; I think it is an outrage to charge 10 cents a glass for soda water when you know it dosnt cost 3 cent*. t * * Drug Clerk--But you should renum ber that ' ; ? Customer--Oh, yes; I have no doubt you can scratch up some kind of aa argument in your defense, but I wonder that the great power of the law is not brought to bear on you. What do those in authority do when they come here and see this outrage? j ^ ^ Drug Clerk - They wink at it Bs. , VICE which parades in the panoply of virtue is honored and applauded when ill-clado Virtue herself is con- < temptuously hooted by Pharisees. ABOCT half we know we guess at, and the othes k^tQ»»»bod,. hi>»gu<>wed a> for us. • ; v, v . «« -+ • v-