» >> V "$* ^ V * -^*<if, <V\ 3Nlr« i. VAN SLY HE. Editor ami Publisher. MoHENRY, ILLINOIS. ;*'A'» V* , «*HE OLD WIFK. V J5?* vf, BV THE RON BKOVTff. 9y 1k*. bod the olJ man, waiting, sat in vigil «ad a <1 tender Wbmm fain asert wife lay dying; and thetwilight ubiMtows I rowu Skmlv from the wall rml window chased tho : musii's gcldensplendor (io.ng down. ~ls tt niplit?" she whimpered, waking (for her spirit seemed to hover ; ipt botwH's the nex: world's sunr°ae and the : <•••••' bed-time cares of this*, ill th< o d man weak and tearful, trembling as he bsnt above her, Answered "Yes." 5- ""Al*the childen in?" she ssked him. Could he tell h< r? All the treasures Ot their I ojif-eholii lay in silence many yean beneath the snow; Bat the heart was w ih them living, back . among her to Is and pleasures L>n, ago. ild as&ln «he called at dew-fall, in the sweet old summer w, at her. , ; **Wheie 1 littl j Chanev, father? Frank and Robert--have ifcev come?" *HKjr are sale," the old man faltered--"all the .mUldrcn are to etlvr, ^ , If afcat homo." fhM be aanrmiired centl* soothin*s, but his giier strew strong and stronger, ' Till It choked and stilled him a* he he'd and kiet-e.l her wrinkled hand, JParlnr w»nl, 'a: oi.fc ot ht-arin^, conld-hts fond est words no linger U.drstand, * tiro the rale lip* stammered questions, lulls. - . t»'es and broken veis^s, Nniseiy prai Me--nil the language of a mother's tovini' d'-cds, kkBe the midnieht round the mourner, left to Sorrow's bitter monies, Wrapped its weeds. , Hwewas ptillr.efson the pillow--and the old man listened lon-ly-- "Till they n d him Jrtm the chamber, with the burden «,n his b east, . Y«r tbe wife of seventy yean, his manhood's early love and o . y. Lay at rest. \ "**Fare-yc u-wetl," he sobbed, "my Sarah;--yen I wi 1 met the babes hi tore me: i "Tlsft lat.le wul e, for neither can the i artlng l^iic abide. JUM ynnM ci me and call mo soon, I know--and Heaven wi 1 rest ore me To your side." b 3t wan even > o: 'J he t- iring-time, in the steps 5 ot wirier trcad ne, tteariely i-hrd Its orchard - b'.os sc ms, ere the oil m- n close > his eyes. And liie. ij rad him by Sarah--; ntfi tttoy had their "diamond wetlding," In the ski,s. ,* Youth's Companion. S~i SSfc: -fc THE POPE'S MUL§ M0 m/ K M: Of all the pretty sayings, proverbs and adages with which our Provence peasants embroider their discourse, I know none more picturesque or singu lar than this: for fifteen leagues •around my mill, whenever they speak of a vindictive, spiteful man, they say: "Distrust that man! He is like the Pope's mule, that kept her kick for «even years." I have tried for a long time to find out whence this proverb could have came, what this papal mule and this kick kept for seven years might be.. No one has been able to give me anv infor mation on the subject, not even Francet Marnai, my fifer, who has all the Provencal legends at the ends of his fingers. Francet thinks, as I do, that there must be some old chronicle of the Avignon country regarding it; but he "Bever heard anything more than the proverb. "l'ou will find that only in the Grass hopper's Library," said the old fifer, The idea seemed good, and as the Oraaaliopper's Library is right at my ' door, I went and shut myself up in it for a wt^pk. It is a wonderful library, beautifully arranged, open to poets day and night, i| «Bd tended by little librarians with tymbals, who make music for you all I' na time. I passed several delicious r days there; and after a week of re searches--on my back--I ended by dis- •jjovering what I wished, that is to say, ^4he history of my mule, and of this famous kick which was kept for seven years. Tlie story is pretty, although a little simple, and I am going to tell it ! 4# you as I read it yesterday morning ® the manuscript, stained by time, •melting with the sweet odor of dry lavender, and with great spiders' webB lor book marks. fie has seen nothing who never saw Avignon in the time of the Popes. There never was a city like it for gayety, life, animation, festivals. From morning to evening there were proces sions, pilgrimages, streets strewn with flowers and hung with tapestries; car- , -dinals arriving by the ltlione, banners floating on the wind, galleys dressed y with flags, the Pope's soldiers singing in Latin on the squares, the rattles of the mendicant friars; then from one end to the other, noisy houses which crowded around the great papal palace like bees around a hive. There was, besides, the tic-tac of the lace-makers, the oome-and-go of shuttles weaving tlie gold of the chasubles, the little hammers of the silver-smith making vessels, the trying of sounding boards At the instrument-makers, the songs of the loom tenders, from above the sound •of belle, and always from below the tambourines sounding in the direction >of the bridge. For with ns, when the people are happy they must dance, ilhcgrmnst dance; and as at this time itim city streets were too narrow for the iarmndole, lifers, and tambourine -players posted themselves on the bridge -Of Avignon, in the fresh breeze of the Khooe, and day and night the people •danced, the people danced--ah! happy time! happy city. Halberds which W--Id not cut, state prisons where they iSMMhe wine to cool! No poverty, no "war! That is the way that the Popes • of the Com tat governed their people; that is why their people have always so V**SSb«r»w&8 one aboye all, a good old eaflpd Boniface. Ah! how many 't--M were ahed for him in Avignon mm he died. He was such an amiable, • Xpdl * handsome prince; he smiled at yon BO pleasantly from his mule's back, and when yon passed near him--wheth er yon vere a poor little madder gath erer orl§|£reat city magistrate--he gave yon h0'f' benediction so politely. A •true Finite of Yvetot, and an Yvetot of Provence, with something shrewd in laugh, a sprig of sweet majorum in .is barretta, and not the suspicion of favoritism. The only favorite the father ever had was his vineyard •ttle place which he had planted If, three leagues from Avignon, tfce myrtles of Chateauneuf. ISunday, when vespers were worthy man went to look d when he was tip there, seat- warm eun, his cardinals ut among the tree stumps, n of new wine opened, ruby wine which has • called the Pope's Cha- d ke drank it in little sips, a& his vipes. Then, was emptied and the he returned" cheejrfully by all his chapter. /'lb r- •*** mod when ha passed over tho bridea of Vignoo, in the midst of the tamhemr- isw and the iarandoles, his mule, ex cited by the music, took a little frisky amble, while he himself marked the dance steps With his cap, which greatly scandalized his cardinals, but made all tlie people cry: "Ah! what a good Prince! Ah! what a gallant Pope!" Next to his vineyard at Chateauneuf, that which the Pope loved most in the world was his mule. The good man was passionately fond of his beast Every evening before he retired he went to see if her stable was securely fastened, or if anything was wanting in her manger, and he neve rose' from the table without having a big bowl of wine prepared under his own eyes in the French fashion, with a quantity of sugar and spices, which lie carried to lier himself, in spite of the remarks of cardinals. It must be acknowledged that the creature was worth the trouble. {She was a beautiful black mule, spotted with red, with a sure foot, shining coat, crupper broad ' and flat--carrying proudly her sharp little head, all har nessed with pompons, like silver bells ane ear-knots. She was more sweet tempered than an angel, with a quick eye, and two'long ears always in motion, which gave her a good-natured air. All Vignon respected her, and when she went ont on the streets there were no courtesies which she did not receive, for i very one kenew that this was the surest way to stand well at court, and that with her innocent air the Pope's mule had led more than one person to fortnne--Tistet Vedene and his won- deful adventure for example. This Tistet Vedene was, in the be ginning, a saucy Foy, whom his father Guv Yedene, the gold chaser, had been forced to turn out of his house because he would not work and led astray the apprentices. For six months he was to be seen dragging his jacket through all the gutters of Avignon, but chiefly in the neighborhood of the papal pal ace, for the sly fellow had for a long time had his designs on the Pope's mule, and you shall see how cunning they were. One day when his holiness was riding alone with his beast under the ramparts, behold my Tistet, who draws near, and says to him. clasping his hands with a look of admiration: "Ah, heavens! Most Holy Father, what a fine mule you have there! Allow me to look at her a moment. Ah! my Pope, what a beautiful mule. The Emperor of Germany has not her equal." And be caressed her, and he spoke gently to her as to a young lady: "Come here, my jewel, my treasure, my fine pearl." And the good Pope, greatly pleased, said to himself: "What a good little fellow! How nice he is with my mule." And then do you know what happened the next day? Tistet Yedene ex changed his old yellow jacket for a beautiful surplice of lace, a cape of vio let silk, and buckled shoes, and he en tered the household of the Pope, into which no one had been received before but the sons of the noblemen and the nephews of cardinals. There you see what intrigue can do. But Tistet did not stop hare. Once in the service of the Pope, the scamp continued the game which had succeeded so well. Insoleut to every one else, he had attention and services for the mule alone, and he was always to be met in the court-yard of the palace with a handful of oats or a bun- dlo of clover, whose pink clusters he shook gently as he looked up at the balcony of the Holy Father as much as to say: "Ha! who is that for?" So that at last the good Pope, who felt himself growing old, ended by intrust ing to him the duty of watching over the stable, and carrying to the mule her bowl of wine prepared in French fashion, which did not make the cardi nal laugh at all. Nor tbe mule neither--this did not make her laugh. For, when the time for her wine came, she always saw five or six little clerks of the household as semble, who crowded among the straw with their capes and laces; then, alter a moment, a nice warm smell of burned sugar and spices filled the stable, and Tistet Yedone appeared, carefully car rying the bowl of spiced wine. Then the lorture of the poor beast began. This perfumed wine which she so loved, which warmed her, which gave her wings, they had the cruelty to bring it to her there in the manger, to make her smell it; then, when her nostrils were full of it--presto! the beautiful liquor, with its pink flame, all went down the throats of these rogues. If only they had done nothing worse than steal her wine! But they were like devils, all these little clerks, when they had taken a drink. One pulled her ears, another her tail; Quiquet climbed on her back, Beluquet tried his cap on her, and not one of these rascals thought that with a jerk of her back or a fling of her heels, the brave beast could have sent them all to the North Star, or even further. But no! Ope is not the Pope's mule for nothing--the mule of benedictions and indulgences. The children must amuse themselves; she did not trouble herself about them. It was only against Tistet Vedene that she bore a grudge. When she felt him behind her, for instance, her hoof itched, and truly there was good reason for it, that good-for-nothing Tistet played her such wicked tricks. After drinking he was full of such cruel in ventions. Did he not think one day of making her mount with him into tbe belfry of the palace, up and up, to the topmost point of the building? And what I am tell ing you is no invention; 200,000 Pro vencals saw it. Imagine the terror of the unhappy mule, when, after having wound around about for an hour, grop ing in a circular stair-case, and climb ing I know not how many step, she found herself suddenly on a platform dazzling with light, and a thousand feet below hex saw fantastic Avignon, the market sheds no bigger than hazel nuts; the Pope's soldiers in front of their barracks like red ants, and further down, over a thread of silver, a micro scopic little bridge, where they were dancing, dancing--ah, poor creature! What a fright! All the window panes in the paltico shook with the scream which she sent forth. "What is the matter ? What aro they doing to her?" cried the good Pope, rushing out on his balcony. Tistet Yedene was already in the court-yaid, pretending to weep and tear his hair. "Ah, Most Holy Father, the matter is--it is that your mule-- great heavens! what shall wo do? Your mule has climed into the belfry." "All alone?" "Yes, Most Holy Father, all alone. See, look at her up there. Do you see the end of her ears move? You might think they were two swallows." "Bless me!" said the poor Pope, raising his eyes. "Shehas gone crazy! She will kill herself! Will yon eome down, unhappy creature?" Confusion! *She would have diked nothing better than to come down, but how? The stair-case? It was not to be thought efi .fjtooh things that mm* «•» be moo&ted, but as for down fv You would hare a chance to break your legs a hundred times. The poor mule was desperate, and while her big eyes, full of vertigo, were roy- ing over the platform, she thought of Tistet Vedene. "All, vagabond, if I escape, what a kick to-morrow morning!"' This idea of a kick gave her a little strength in her legs, without that she would never have been able to support herself. At last they eame to take her down from her elevation but it waa a terrible piece of business. It was ne cessary to lower her by a great ma chine, with cords and a hnndbarrow. And think what a humiliation for the mule of a Pope to Bee herself suspended at this height, swimming with her feet in the empty air, like a beetle at the end of a thread I And all Avignon looking at her! The unhappy beast did not sleep all night. She seemed to be always turn ing round on that accursed (platform, with the laughter of the people below. Then she thought of the wicked Tistet Vedene and of the lovely blow with her heel that she was going to fling at him to-morrow. Ah! my friends, what a blow of the heel! They should see the dust from Panopaluna. Now, while this beautiful reception was preparing for him at the stable, do you know what Tistet Vendene was doing? He was descending the Rhone, singing on a papal galley, on his way to the court of Naples, with the troop of young no bles sent every year by the city to be under the influence of Queen Joan for the sake of practice in diplomacy and good manners. Titset was not of noble birth, but the Pope wished to reward him for the care which he had bestowed fUpon his mule, and especially for the activity which he had exhibited on the day of her rescue. Ah, how disappointed the mule was the next day! "Ah, the villain! He suspected something!" she thought, shaking her little bells with fury. But it is all the same. Go, you knave ? You will find your kick when you come back. I keep it for you. And she kept it' After the departure of Tistet the Pope's mule resumed her tranquil method of life, and her former behavior. There was no more Quiquet, no more Beluquet in the stable. The happy days of spiced wine and French fashion were once again, and with them the good humor, the long siestas, and the little gavotto dancing step when she passed over, the bridge of Avignon. Nevertheless, after her adventures there was always a little coldness toward her in the city. There were whispers as she passed on her way; the old people shook their heads; the children laughed and pointed to the belfry. The good Pope himself had no longer such con fidence in his friend, and, if he allowed himself to take a little nap on her btick on Sunday when returning from the vineyard, he had always a hidden fancy --"Suppose I should wake up above there on tho platform!" The mule saw this, and slio suli'ered from it without saying anything, only wliei Tistet Vedene's name was pronunced- before her, her long ears trembled, and with a little laugh she sharpened the iron of her hoofs on the pavement. Seven years passed thus; then, at the end of these years, Tistet Vedene re turned from the court of Naples. His time there was not yet expired, but he had learned that the first mustard-bear er of the Pope had suddenly died at Avignon, and as the place seemed to him desirable, he had come in great haste to place himself among the com petitor*. When this intriguer of a Vedene en tered the hall of the palace the Holy Father scarcely recognized him, he had grown so much taller and larger. It must also be confessed that tho Pope, on his side, had grown old, and that he could not see well without spectacles. Tistet was not embarrassed. "How! great Holy Father, you do not recognize me? It is I, Tistet Vedene." "Vedene?" "Why, yes, you know very well--the one who carried French wine to your mule." "Ah! yes, yes, I remember. A good little boy that Tistet Vedene. And now, what is it he wants of us ?" Oh! a trifle, great Holy Father. I have come to ask you--but, while I think of it, have you got her still--your mule ? And she is well and happy ? Ah, so much the better. I have come to ask you for the place of the first mustard bearer, who has just died." i "First mustard bearer! you! But you are too young. What is'your age ? " "Twenty years and two months, il lustrious Pontiff; just five years older than your mule. Ah! palm of heaven, the good creature! If you knew how I loved her, that mule, how I have pined for her in Italy! Will you not allow me to see her ?" "Yes, my child, you shall see her," said the good Pope, much touched; "and since you love her so truly, the poor beast, I no longer wish that you should live so far from her. From this day I attach you to my person in the quality of first mustard bearer. My caminals will grumble, but so much the worse. I am used to that. Wait upon us to-morrow after vespers; we will bestow upon you the insignia of your rank in the presence of our chap ter, and then I will take you to see the mule, and you shall come out to the vineyard with us both. Well! well' That is all!" If Tistet Vedene was pleased when he left the grand ball it is not neces sary to tell you-with what impatience he awaited the ceremony of the next day. Nevertheless, there was one in the palace still more happy and more impatient than he; this was the mule. From the return of Vedene up to ves pers of the following day tbe terrible animal never ceased devouring oats and striking against the wall with her hind feet. And then, the next day, when vespers were said, Tistet Vedene made his en trance into the court of the papal pal ace. All the dignitaries of the church were there--the cardinals, in red robes, the advocates of the devil in black vel vet, the abbots of the monasteries with their littlo mitres, the church wardens of St. Agriqol, the violet capes of the household, the lesser clergy also, the' soldiers of the Pope in full uniform, the three fraternities of penitents, the her mits of Mount Ventoux with that fero cious mien, and the little clerk who goes behind carrying the bell; the flagellant brothers naked to the waist, the -gray-headed sacristans in judges' robes; all, all, even to the givers of holy water, the person who lights the tapers, and the person who extinguishes them, there was not one wanting. Ah! that was a beautiful spectacle! Bells, crackers, sunshine, music, and through it all the furious tambourines which led the dance below on the bridge of Avignon . When Vedene appeared in the midst of the assembly, his fine presence and {his dignified bearing caus«d a murmur m * ! < • ' A " * . ' . ̂ * v - r-K- Vis,"* He was a munificent Provencal of the blonde varieqr, With thick loeiu ettrled to the end, ilid a soft little beard, which seemed to be made from the shavings of fine metal that fell from the burin of his father, the gold graver. The story ran that in this blonde beard the fingers of Queen Joan had some times played and the Sieur de Vedene had in truth the haughty air and the absent glance of men whom queens have loved. This day, in order to do honor to his own people, he had re placed his Neapolitan garments by a jacket bound with pink, in Provencal fashion, and on his hood waved a large feather of the ibis of Camargues. Immediately on entering, the first mustard bearer saluted with a gallant a*r and turned toward the high steps, where the Pope awaited him to deliver to him the insignia of his rank, a yellow wooden spoon and a saffron cloak. The mule was at the foot of the stairs, all harnessed and ready to start for the vineyard. As he passed near her Tistet Vedene smiled gently, and slopped to give her two or three friendly little taps on the back, looking out of the corner of his eye to see if the Pope noticed it. The position was a good one. The mule made a sudden movement. "Wait! Take that, wretch! Seven years a have I kept it for youi" And she gave him a blow with her heel so terrible that the dust of it could be seen even from Pam- peluna--a whirlwind of blonde dust, through which fluttered an ibis feather, all that remained of the unfortunate Tistet Vedene. A blow from a mule's heel is not gen< erally so terrible, but this was a papal mule; and then, think of it! she had kept it for seven years! There is no more perfect example of ecclesiastical rancor.--French of Alphonso Daudet. Molly's Pennies. The y6ung assistant editor of one of the most important magazines in New York is also the teacher of a class of little ragamuffins in a mission Sunday school. These children are allowed to bring a penny each on Sunday, for the help of other children still worse off than themselves. Mind, they are al lowed as a privilege--not required, or even expected. It is set before them as an honor in the good work; and many of them bripg their penny regu larly- --others when it is convenient-- others seldom; but there is scarcely one so poor as not sometimes to pro duce it Among the clous is one little mite, perhaps G years old, who always comes well-patched and clean, yet her whole aspect shows her to be one of the very poorest of those poor. She is not a pretty child. Life, has been hard on her, and pinched her little face, and made sharp angles where there ought to be soft outlines and dimples; but she has bright, eager eyes, and she never loses a word the teacher says to her, and he feels that she is one of his most hopeful scholars. One Sunday of winter, when the times w ere very hard, he heard a small voice at his elbow: "Teacher!" "Well, Molly?" "Please, sir, here's four pennies, for this Sunday, and three more Sundays." "Why do you bring them all at once, Molly ?" the teacher asked, with curi ous interest. "Because, sir, father is out of work, and he said thero might not be any pennies if I did not take them now," and the thin little brown hand slipped into his a brown paper parcel in which the four pennies were carefully wrapped. So the good work was not to suffer, however hungry the child's mouth might be before the month was over. The teacher wondered how many of the rich men, playing with fortunes as a child plays with toys, would remember, before making some desperate throw, to provide for the charities they were wont to help, lest there should not be any money in the weeks to come.-- Youth's Companion. A Study In Human Katnfff "See the dude, the dandy dude!" "Shut up, you dirty little street rag amuffin, or I'll punch your head!" Then they went for each other like two bull pups. One had on a pair of cotton jumpers, with a hole in the seat and a tattered shirt; the other was dressed in the height of boy fashion. They were about of a size, and the crowd cheered while they punched each other's noses, chewed each other's ears, and scratched each other's eyes. The ragamuffin had the most science, but the little dude was in the best con dition physically. Suddenly a blue- coat dropped down from somewhere. The crowd received an electric shock, and some one called out: "Skit! a peeler!" Then the little dude pulled his fing ers out of the ragamuffin's greasy hair and the ragamuffin let go of the little dude's ear, and away went the two, while the strong arm of the law rattled for help and then started in pursuit. "Follow me," shouted the ragamuffin to the little dude, and they disap peared together in a labyrinth of alleys. The policeman gave up the chase, sat down on a door-step and cooled off, and then went away. The reporter did likewise, but cogi tating on the magnanimity suddenly displayed by the young Arab, and won dering if he did not intend to get the little dudejoff somewhere alone and then try to annihilate him. But not long after he happened upon the two again. They both seemed quite happy, and the ragamuffin was saying, as he dangled a brand-new outfit for a first- class shine: • "Thankee, old boy. Didn't mean what I said--only was giving you guff. It's ell right, old pard, isn't it?" And the little dude replied: "It's all right now. Good-by; I hope you will have good-luck." -- Boston Globe. The Romantic to Order. The night was dark, cloudy, and romantic as he stood under her window at the parental mansion. A rope, chock full of elopement stretched from the window to the ground. Softly the sash was raised and her angelic form ap peared at the casement. "Is everything ready ?" she whispered in a third-scene, box-set voice. "Yes," he responded in the same theatrical tone. "Yes, yes," he replied; "everything is arranged. Slide down." "And have you hired two men to chase ns?"--Pittsburgh Chronicle. A PUBLIC sentiment ought to prevail which should make it disreputable to jump at one wild leap into matrimony, and the clergyman or magistrate party to it should be held gnilty of a crime against the unwritten law, for the en forcement of which the court of public opinion exists.--Chicago Inter Ocean. SEVEN-POUND sage hena are killed la .Newt* •." aM: OUR FEATHERED, SIHGBBS. How They Should be Cared for, and Why They Don't Sing. "Why, you have no idea," said an old and well-known bird-fancier to a re- pdrter the other day, "how little care s> song bird requires. It has been my experience--and a good, long experi ence--that the most of the deaths among canaries are caused by overcare and overfeeding. How often you will hear people--and especially ladies--. say, 'I don't have any luck with birds at all. I have had two or three, and they all grew sick and died, and now I have one that won't sing at all.' And if somebody should inform them that they had killed their own birds, they would call you crazy, or think you were joking them." "What do you mean by overcare and overfeeding?" queried the reporter. "I mean just what I say. Let a lady get a new bird. The chances are it is the first she has ever had the care of. It is a novelty and a curiosity in the house, and she feels as if she must be amending to it all the time, and if she does not it will die, or stop singing, or something. The result is she will give the bird everything she can think of, or everything she has ever heard of a bird eating. You will find crackers, and cake, and bread, and candy, and sugar, and apple, and heaven only knows what, stuck through the bars of the cages lor the birds to eat. In the seed boxes you will find ail kinds of seed, mixed, etc. .Now, it does not seem to me that it requires an extraordinary intelligence to grasp the idea that this is all wrong. I can hush the notes of the hardiest German canary ever im ported to this country by such food in a few weeks. Such sweet dainties fatten the feathered musicians. They lose their voice, they become subject to rheumatism, they get the gout in their feet. They become invested with lice, and they lose any desire for their bath. You can hear an unusually brilliant songster, one who is singing loudly, sweetly and almost incessantly, and go and look at the cage lie is in. You won't find any sweetbreads or sweet meats there." "What is tbe best bird food?" "The best bird food is plain, ordi nary, common bird seed--only this and nothing more. It is all I give my birds, and you have heard how they sing. Two or three times a year, I have cut- tlej-fi sh bone for them, and I keep some fine gravel or sand in the bottom of the cage for them to pick at. I put a bath dish of water, with the chill re duced, into the cage every morning. Once a week, I clean the cage thorough ly, scrubbing the perches, the bottom and the bars. I give them fresh water to drink and restock the seed jar once a day. This is all the care I give my birds. I keep them where it is light, where the sun shines occasionally und where there is fresh air. Birds should not be hung too high in the room eith er, for there they get the heated air, which is not good for them. Give a bird such treatment as this--plain, clean bird seed, fresh water and fresh air, and if he dies, or loses his song, it will be from natural causes."--Koghes- ter Demon al and Chronicle. His Request. The hostess in a well-filled, brightly lighted London drawing-room was do ing the honors to a man whom she rightly regarded as the star of the oc casion. He came from far-off America, where he had won well-earned laurels, and he was sure to be known to and welcomed by all to whom his name should be mentioned. The lady took pleasure, therefore, in presenting him to all her guests who were best worth knowing--to this herb of many battles; to the author of many books; to tlio.pretty girl whose first volume of poems had just taken the reading world captive; to the painter whose picture the Academy had just bought. Fresh from his conversation with the last of these, the lady saw him coming towards her with a look on his face like Oliver asking for more. "Who is it?" she said, smiling. "I want you to see every one you would like to meet, but I think I have shown you all my great guns." "But it is the little guns I want to oeo now," he answered, returning her >*mile. "You've been showing me the prosperous people, whom everybody is seeking, and they've given me my share of pleasure. Now, if you'll let me, I want to give pleasure to some body. Isn't there somebody here who isn't having a good time? If there's any one whom nobody else seems to care to talk to, I want to sea that per son." And she gave him his will. There are wall-flowers in every garden, and the hostess sought them out for him. That elderly woman, a little deaf, had her whole evening made pleasant by her quar!er-of-an-liour's talk with tue distinguished-looking man who talked so distinctly and made himself so agreeable. 'lhat shy girl, who felt herself no body, because, in the midst of a society made up of celebrities, she neither painted pictures, nor sang songs, nor wrote poems, went home happy through the kind gentility of this man, who made her feel that she had something to say worth his bearing. And that old gentleman, with his hobby-horse, how he did enjoy mount ing it and prancing away before this kind observer from over the seas! It was a little thing, you say, which this man did. Yes, but in it" was all the difference between selfishness and unselfishness; and since we live with our fellows, and not in a hermitage, it is in society that we must show what man ner of spirit we are of.-- Youth's Com panion. , Quite a Compliment. Not long since one of the most pious young men in Austin got a position in our local bank, and meeting a friend a lew days afterwards, the latter asked: "How are you coming on?" "First rate. The President of tho bank lias taken quite a liking to me. Ho even asked mo for my photograph to put in his album. * That's qn.te a compliment, ain't it? Ho baid I had such an intelligent face." "He did, did he? He thinks you are smart enough to steal, and he wants your picture to put on the handbills offering a reward when you run away. That President can read men a book."--2 'e.raa Sifting ft. A Wooden Wedding. Mrs. B.--Are you going to celebrate yeur wooden wedding? Mrs. C.--No; my first wedding was a wooden one. Mrs. B.--Oh, it could not be, you know. Mrs. C.--It was. 1 married a block head.--Philadelphia Call. A NEWBURG man has 200 different sorts of applos grafted on one tree, 137 them vers in bearing TAT INC. "Seems to me yon don't have nothin' ter do," said a farmer, walking into the I sanctum of the editor. I "Well I have worked on a farm a good deal of my life, and I regard j editing a so-called humorous paper as ! harder work than plowing corn," the* editor replied. "O, shucks!" exclaimed the farmer. "If I didn't have nothing to do but sit around and write a little, an* shear a good deal, I tell ye I'd be havin' a mighty easy time." "I'll tell you what ni do," said the editor. "I'll plow corn a day for vou if you'll write two columns to-day*for me." "Done," cried the farmer. "And I'll bet you $10 you can't write two columns to-day." "Done again. And I'll bet you $10 more yer can't plow as much as yer or ter." "I take you," the editor replied. "What am I to write about?" "Oh! anything, so it's funny. Be- member, now, Mr. Farmer, you are to do the writing yourself. The matter must be strictly original." "Never mind me, Mr. Editor. But look yer. Yon have got ter do a good job o' corn-plowin'. Do it jest like I would." "All right." The editor went to the farm and set a good hand whom he had hired on tbe way, at work plowing corn. The farmer worte a head-line which read: "Killin' tatar-bugs," before the editor was out of hearing. In the evening the editor came into the sanctum blithe and cheerful. The farmer sat at the desk, vexed and wor ried into anger. "How do you feel ?" asked the editor. "Used up. Hardest day's work I ever done, and two lines to show fer it." Sure enough he was but one line be yond the head line. That line read: "Killin' tater-bugs is funny." "Then I Avon tho wager." "Yes. But I reckon I've won t'other un." "No, sir 1 I have won both. I have plowed several acres of corn, and done it well, and I've writton my two jsol- umns, besides." " "Creation! How'd ye do it?" , "Just like you would. I hired ft idan to do the plowing, and I sat in the shade; but I wrote while I sat there, and did not sleep as you do. Fork over the twenty." The farmer paid $20 for his informa tion, but the lesson was well learned, Mid as he went out, he said: "Stranger, I wouldn't be an editor if I could. It looks mighty easy, but by Jerusalem, it aint near so easy as sittiu' in the shade, an' watchin' tlier hands plowin' corn. I'm a blasted fool, an' yer kin say so in yer next paper, if yer want to," and that is why we write it.-- Through Mail ; : Remorse. An American writer lately endeav ored to trace the after-history of noted men, who, in accordance with the code of honor of our grandfathers, had met and "killed their man" in a duel. Fifty years ago, no gentleman was expected to find life endurable after he had re ceived an insult, until he had tried to kill the man who had offended him. Some of the anecdotes recently col lected show how powerful was the social pressure which drove men to the field, und how terrible, in some cases at least, was the remorse that followed. S. S. Prentiss wrote to a friend that his convictions and moral teachings all were so much opposed to dueling that before going out to meet his antagonist he "did nothing but read the Bible and pray." Yet so strong was the force of public opinion that he fought Beveral duels. "The horror," lie said, "haunts me so that I cannot sleep, and I totter around in the daytime like an old man." O'Connell, it is stated, never recov ered from the shock of the death of D'Esterre, whom he killed. He never went to church afterwards without wrapping up the "murderous hand," declaring that he "could not approach his Saviour with the stain in sight." Paull, who killed Sir Francis Bur- dette, suffered so much that he became insane and finally committed suicide. Mr. Graves, who killed Cilley in the famous duel, was an altered man ever after, and with his dying breath pro tested against the folly and crime of the murdorous practice. Now that the dueling has fallen into disuse, and is condemned by society, its folly and crime aro ve«y apparent tp us, and we are apt to be severe in our condemnation of it. Young men wonder at the incredible weakness and wickedness of their grandfathers, that they could be driven to commit delib erate murder meiely from the fear of the censure of the fashionable world. Yet how much stronger than they is the lad who goes to the gaming-table or tbe bar, and slowly murders soul and body because he is afraid to offend the prejudices of society? Or he who, to keep its favor by maintaining a false show of wealth, degrades his conscience and murders his good name, by gentle manly theft?-- Youth's Companion. Better Thnn Fighting. A veteran of the war, who* was not particularly remarkable for hisbrayery in the ranks, but who nevertheless is in receipt of a comfortable pension, was relating his experience's a soldier. "Were you overtaken prisoner?" he was asked. "I guess I was," he replied, emphati cally. "I was a prisoner of the war for eight months, and B}ept on the ground in the open air all the time. Some days I would get something to eat and some days I wouldn't. I nearly starved to death." "It must have been a terrible experi ence," remarked one of his listeners. "It was indeed a frightful experience, but I tell you, gentlemen," and here he lowered his voice and spoke very earn estly. "It wasn't near as. bad as fight ing." Society Note. Colonel Witherspoon, of Austin, although a very close man, occasion ally invites people to dinner just to show off. He asked Gus De Smith to dine with him not long ago, and Gus accidentally upset the Worcester sauce on the table cloth, which exasperated Colonel Witherspoon so that he ex claimed : "Where were yon raised, anyhow?" "I was raised in a family that owns more than one table cloth," replied Gus. "I wasn't thinking about the table cloth so much as I was about the Wor cester sauce. It is the genuine article, and costs thirty-five cents a bottler- Texas Sittings. Why They Prsotieed. A couple of Vassar girls were found by a professor fencing with broomsticks in a gymnasium. He reminded them that such an accomplishment would not eid them in securing husbands. "It Iwill help us in keeping them in," re-plied one of the giru.~ JStefarolp AXB P015T, •imiMi n j f. V ;r _ * ' : CLOSE qnartcrs--Those in !>--»** . of a miser. WHEN the dentists have a oonveatioo they ought to pull together. THE question is, whifeh ^lalfitt man the quickest--a horn or a belle? H IK a Paris restaurant: *1 say, sir * you are carrying off a silver sugar- bowl!" "oh! a thousand pardons; I thought it was my hat!" How is it we know that our o mmon ? mother, Eve, did not belong to the High Church party? Why, because Adam used to say she was Evangelical. t A»" asked Walter, "what is a Budd- : hist?" "A Buddhist, my son," replied pa, "is a--well--a sort of horticultural chap--you ve heard of budding fruits, you know." "YES, I am pretty tired," he said; "I sat up with a oorpse." "Was :t a wake?" asked a friend. "No," he answered **• s sadly, "it was not awake; it was dead." * --Argonaut. WHAT a ball nine could be formed **•?*- from defaulting bank cashiers. Most of them are base runners.--Philadel- * phia Record. Yes, but most of their runs were made on errors.--Boston ' ' Post. * s "I DON'T like these shoes," said * ' lady customer, "because the soles are 'i too thick." "Is that the only objection ?" ' in blandly asked the shopkeoper. "Yee," was the reply. "Then, madam, if you *1/> take the shoes, I can assure you that that objection will gradually wear i away." "WILL you have some of the dessert, " Mr. Dumley ?" inquired the landlady. V#if Dumley politely allowed that he would. "Do you know," he remarked, as he •'* gazed at tbe very narrow little pieee of T whortleberry pie which was sent him, . "that I would hardly call this a dessert." :,^k "No; what would you call it?" she de manded. "An oasis." THEY were sitting on the sofa in the ^ front parlor and he was holding her t little hand in his own. Suddenly a ,, thought seemed to strike her, and she • • * asked sweetly, "Adelphus, are you a . i? •bolter?" Just then the old gentle- ; man's footsteps sounded on the top ^ stair, and as he wildly grabbed his hat * ' * Adolphus answered, "Yes, darling; * good-by." •••••-. •' WELL-FOUNDED DOTOTS. . : When a pair of red lips are Aptnrned to jroor ^ ; ' own, With no one to goss'p about it, Do you pray for endurance to let them alone? V. tf'J Well, mebby yon do--bat 1 doubt it. jf- When a sly little hand you're remitted ts seize, _ '4a*- jf'# With a velvety softness about it, ' Do you think you can drop it with nera ... squeeze? ( Well, mebby you'ean--but I doubt It. '• tV™ " • Wh n a taperins waist is in reaoh of vonr arm, With a wondert'u. plumpness a*.out it, i ,' Do you argue the point 'twixt the goo 1 and the " harm? . Well, m' bby you do--but I doubt It r . ^ ; And if by thesj tricks you should oaptnn.,| .. heart, ' With a womanly sweetness about it, Will yon guard it, and keep it, and act a •- part? Well, mebby yon will--but I doubt It. "WILL you be kind enough, sir, to A hold this ram for me while I open this gate? It is fastened on the inside, and ^ I must climb over." This modest re mark was made by a man who was standing at a gate on a lonely road, and - it was addressed to a stalwart sailor . who had just come up. The only other object visible on the long, straight road was the large black ram, whost» massive crooked horns were being held by the r man as the two stood quite still in front : ot the gate. "Why, sart iuly shipmate," ' J j said, the obliging tar, as he seized \ the big horns and relieved ^ tbe first holder. Tho latter climbed ^ quickly over the gate. "I thank you ; very much," he said politely, when he * got to the other side. "You w'll be 5 surprised to hear that I never saw that ram before to-day. The brute attacked r me about half an hour ago, and we j' have been tussling together ever since. As long as you stand before him holding: his horns firmly he can't hart yon i much. Good-b.y. I hope you will be as lucky in getting away from him as I have been." It is not known what the ' sailor said. . - Neatness. A girl's every day toilet ia ri pwt of her character. The maiden who is slovenly in the morning is not to be trusted, however fine she may look in . the evening. No matter how humble your room may be, there are eight things it should contain; a mirror, washstand, water, soap, towel, hair, nail . and tooth brushes. These are just;as essential to your breakfast, before which you should mako good use of them. Parents who fail to provide their chil- i dren with such appliances, not only make a mistake but commit a sin of omission. Look tidy in the morning, and after the dinner work is over im prove your toilet Make it a rule of your daily life to "dress up" for the afternoon. Your dress may, or need not be, anything better than calico; but with a ribbon or flower^ or some bit of - ornament, you can have an air of self- . respect and satisfaction, that invariably , comes with being well dressed A girl with sensibilities cannot help feeling embarrassed and awkward in a ragged, , dirty dress, with her hair unkempt, if a stranger or neighbor should come in. Moreover, your self-respect should de mand decent apparelling for your body. You should make a point to look as * well as you can, even if you know no- -• body will see you but yourself. ,.,4.,, The Yard Measure. I : ^ A. few months since a question wM raised about the measurement of land in vogue in the British American Colonies before they became known to hUtory as. the United States. The English Board of Trade was appealed , to fer information as to when the ex isting foot measure was established in America, and whether it might have differed at any time from the foot measure of Great Britain. In reply, 1 the board stated that the standard yard of Henry VIII. still exists, and is probably of exactly the same length as the old Saxon yard, it is a solid brass rod, and was constantly usod for the verification of other yards till the reign of "good Queen Bess." After allowing ' for the estimated wear, it is found to be ' of the same length as the present : standard yard.--Carpet Trade Review. Barrels From SI raw I'nlp. Barrels for shipping flour, sugar, and other dry commodities are now being successfully manufactured from straw pulp, and may possibly come into gen eral use in the future. In the manufacture the straw pulp is run in a mold and then compressed by p >worful machinery. The barrels seem answer fully for ordinary shipping a ¥ purposes, but have no apparent ad van- •#" * tages oyer the wood barrels commonly used, being about the same price and weight. FIFTEEN whales in the bay off Santa Cruz, California, constituted one of the ' • : . V • U A