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-a wvr *^fr* r 4 r rnru IJlaiudcaltt VAN SLYKE. Editor end Publisher. ILLINOIS. MottENRY, THE LAST DOLLAR. ->'V -v, .- • <•> ̂ .4 V Ht%- ' mm "FLIRTATION IS BESTBCCTlOli.•* ? •* A bright thought was the poet's who flag one dark day Thftt somewhere is the sun always shining, O, ' '{.And another good adage is this, as they say, , * • • That the dark clouds have silver for lining, 01 i , Bo have coats, but not ours; they are not lined A& * that way, ' Nor with gold, »6r with scrip doth it follow, O, But here's yourfphilosophy, laugh and be gay, Drink the best to the last of your dollar, 01 Fill, fill, ye wildfellowis, and drain while ye may, Though the sun is not always a-shining, O. Though your coats may be worn 'tis a very good way Just to turn them and wear out th^ lining, 0. Bo we'll cheat the sad tailor of half of his pay . And snap fingers, ha, ha," for his choler, O. We are young in the world and we're bound to be gay While we've wits In our hats and a dollar, O t 4&nd the last breath we draw, thro' .oar pipes let it play, »• While a spark in the bowl is a-shining, O, And when life is a coat that is threadbare and gray. Yet we're bojind for t<"> wear out the lining, O! Then we'll cbaff at old Death in a rollicking way ; *v :• • • • To our pleasure we'll pin him a scholar, O, >&.4" And good cheer to the last cup thatobubbles away •, And hurrah! when we spend oar last dollar,O. |Rk ~-£reokiyn Eagle. rfOUJDTTi-A HINDOO FABLK. BT JOEL BENTON. . A silly moose, thinking each thing a cat, Fell into a helpless worriment thereat; > But, noticed by a wisard living bear, ; Was tamed into a cat to end its fear. • \ No sooner was the transformation done, Than dreadful terror of a dog begun. Now, when the wizard saw this la4est throe. . "Here, be a dog," said he, "and end your woe.* Bat, though a dog, its Soul had no release, For fear some tiger might disturb its peace. Into a tiger next the beast 'was made, And still twas pitful and sore afraid. Because the huntsman might, some ill-starred day, Happen along and take its life away. "Then," said the Wizard, turning to his house, "You have a mouse's heart--now be a mouse." Tis so with men; no earthly help or dower- Can add one atom to their earthly power; Them from their smallness nothing can arouse- No art can make a lion from a mouse. V" "**• |ii: lv !?1 WB THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. BT FBANK SHERIDAN. 1 / I first met Rudolph Movitska in tbe win- fir of 1862. I had then been in California f Ibree rears, and had become accustomed to Bieetiug all sorts of characters; but I re- ibember that this man engaged my attention imd impressed me strangely. It was in a San Francisco gambling den that I saw him fpr the first time. He, like myself, was a 3*e looker-on, killing time by watching games in progress, arid evincing no de- e to take part in any of them. f| ; ! I was struck by his handsome physique i »iiid the massive, leonine grace of his move­ ments. bnt more particularly by his pale, •flioaghtful face, with its fine intellectual Oontour. its large melancholy eyes, and the foreign cut of. the dark moustache and pointed beard. . A desire to know the man prompted me lift draw him into conversation, and from ^Nfcat moment we were fast friends. In the year that followed we were almost constantly together. We became partners ill business, joint owners of a mine in which We invested a good deal of money and boundless hopes, afld our friendship grew «. Warmer with each succeeding week. Rudolph Movitska was a man of noble bearing and line scholarly attainments. He ike English and several other languages .gently, and showed by his conversation he was remarkably" well-read for so u man--for at that time he was but ^two years of age. story interested me. It was several s after our first acquaintance before he became sufficiently confidential to tell me about himself. He was the only son of a Polish Count. He had wooed and won and clandestinely married a beautiful young lady, in whose reins coursed royal blood. Her name was Helena Olanof. She was divinely lovely d was rapturously admired by everybody, young Russian Prince became enamored f her and it was decreed that she should become his wife. It was on account of this decree that Rudolph and Helena were mar­ ried secretly. "Helena refused to become the Prince's •wife," said Rudolph, "but did not tell him that she was already married to me. His pride was sorely wounded by her rejection of his hand, and he vowed vengeance. It did not take him long to find out that the girl loved me, and I then became a targer for his insane wrath. He invented some •ort of pretext for charging me with being Concerned in a conspiracy against the gov­ ernment. I knew I would not be permitted to prove my innocence; I knew that the bare accusation meant banishment, if not death, for me. At the instance of my wife, Who tearfully begged me to fly and save \ toy life for her sake, I turned my back on \ all that was dear to me and fled to Paris, *sprmly believing, of course, that our sepa- r t&tion would be but temporary. "While in Paris," continued Movitska, in * ' » husky voice. "I received letter that mined ; all my future prospects, and filled my soul With desolation and despair. First there Came a letter from a friend, telling me that Say Helena was as false as she was fair, and that since my departure she was receiving ^sslhe Prince's attentions with apparent pleas- tee. Then there was one from Helena's i* " lather, in which he informed me that his daughter had told him all; that she was re- J fentant, and deeply, regretted her rash rj: foarriage with me; that she desired above Jkll things to become the wife of a Prince, .tod begged that some means might be de- ^ "Vised to sever the tie that bound her to me, •o that she might be free to acceptthe |iand of her royal suitor; and theirthelet- y61 wound up by entreating me never tti^K- . ; jrulge the secret of our marriage, ana to ; $tay away from Poland. Then there came * very brief little note from Helena herself, •; . assuring me that all her father had written " *"as true' antl hoping from the depths of 5 • ®er heart that I would not return to Poland find compromise her. v > "Did I retuin to Poland? No; I have never turned my face -toward my beloved ®ountrv since that time. I scarcely know bl What possessed me to come to America, but , •»< fcome I did, and after a few months of rest- \V , less wandering found myself in California." XT' «. Tbat was m>' friend's storv. I watched - \ iiis fine, manly face as he told it, and could , feee something of the terrible, heart-break- iiV ^sg agony he tried to suppress as he re- fU 'viewed the sad tragedy of his life. He was a man of strong feelings, of an j i_ sensitive organization, and a { "SiDoundless capacity to suffer, but behind all <'r' 'was an iron Mill that usually held his emo- tions in check. 0ne bright spring day, more than a vear v« - after our first meeting, Rudolph Moritska & , and I were riding through a lonely pass in ' the Sierra Nevada, on our way to the mina in which our interest was centered. • We had traveled the same trail mari^times f't't before without molestation, but not without being constantly on the look-out for foes. . The stage route led through this pass, and Jf, 's there were legends connected with it in J , which footpads, road-agents, and assassins . . figured conspicuously. ^ As we rode leisurely along my companion k; I casually remarked: •" s "I have heard of no 'stand and deliver, , sensations occurring in this pass for some 4 time." of "Nor have I. The march of civilization t V *' ., seems to be thinning out the outlaws in thin region." I ' ; The words had scarcely passed my lips when three figures on horseback rode out from behind a jutting rock and confronted us. At the same moment a clear, silvery, feminine voice cried out: -Halt!" AVe both drew rein. For my part it was fl surprise, more than any other feeling, that caused me to obey the mandate so promptly; for the three riders were women! They were all dressed in deep black, and each wore a long impenetrable "vail that ef­ fectually concealed her features. Each held a- formidable-looking revolver in a small gi%tntleted hand, but the weapons were not aimed. There was something that smacked of tho ridiculous in this coup de main, and I should have been amused had I not been dumb with amazement. It was a novel ex­ perience for two healthy, strong-limbed, muscular men to be peremptorily com­ manded to halt by a trio of delicately- formed women. I turned and looked at my companion. To my suqirise, if not disgust, he was pale as a ghost, knd trembling in every limb. Was the man a coward? Was he really stricken with terror by the menacing atti­ tude of these petticoated strangers? I had never suspected him of such weakness^ Recovering my speech I bowed with mock courtcsy to the veiled riders, and said: ladies, this is an unexpected honor. Being stopped and robbed by booted and j spurred highwaymen has grown so monot­ onous that it is a genuine relief to have the act performed by representatives of your adorable sex. I presume you want our money or our lives?" "We want nothing whatever from you," replied the woman who had first spoken. "You, sir, are at liberty to go your way; but your friend, Rudolph Movitska, must come with us." Here wal« fresh surprise. I saw Mo­ vitska start violently, then straighten up in his saddle and cease trembling as suddenly as if he had turned to stone. , ' "Pardon my perverseness, madam, but you will permit me to, say that wherever my friend goes, there iriust I go, also." "So be it," j^d the woman, almost 6harply; "but we ^fll have no trifling. The gentleman is our prisoner, and must go with us immediately!" I turned to Movitska with a smile. "Well, old boy, what are you going "to do?" "I will go with them," said he,.drawing a sharp breath. "Let them head their way; I will follow." It was tfot the answer I expected, and I protested, vigorously, against such an igno­ minious surrender. I told him any fool could see that the object of these female outlaws was to lead him into an ambush of male robbers and cut-throats. He held firmly to his decision. "You can continue your journey if you like," he said. "I am a prisoner, and mast go with my captors. If I am mistaken, death will be welcome." I saw no reason in this observation, and began to doubt the man's sanity. Convinced that no amount of argument would , dissuade him from his purpose, I gave up the effort and resolved to see the end of the adventure myself, cost what it might. '"All right," I said, addressing the women, with an assumption of recklessness I did pot feel. "We will accompany you. Lead on." The one who had done the talking di­ rected her companions to- ride behind us, while she took the lead; and in this form the procession ihoved, Movitska and I rid­ ing abreast. I had to acknowledge to myself that this was the strangest experience I had ever known; and in my mind it began to assume rather serious aspect. It seemed to me that these women must be accomplices of a band of desperadoes, relying on their 6ex to escape personal injury, and I tried to preach this idea into Movitska's head; but I could not move him from his insane de­ termination, and I could not conscien­ tiously leave him. Our fair escort led us off at right angles from the pass, down through a i$»oded ra­ vine, and I soon saw that they were follow­ ing a tolerably well-beaten trail. By this time I had noticed that the leader of the trio was the possessor of a superb form, and that there was a certain air of refinement and high breeding in her man­ ner, accompanied by a grace and dignity such as a queen might envy. There was a slight foreign accent in her speech, but not enough to detract a particle from the de­ lightful effect of her clear, sweet voice. I began to feel a strong curiosity to see her face. After riding about a mile we came to a large log cabin. I knew the place well. It was the abode of a hainiless old miner and his family. Why haid we been brought here? We were ordered to dismount and enter the house. I took the precaution to draw my six-shooter and hold it in my hand as we crossed the threshold. The old miner and his Wife were there, but as we entered they immediately passed into an adjoining room and closed the door behind them. The leader of the veiled riders went to a couch in one corner of the room, and took therefrom a 2-year-old child, partially arousing it from a sound slumber. Hold­ ing the little ones in her arms she turned toward my friend, and in a strong, firm voice said: nlreldy tired of mariied life and would never retort to Poland. But the scheming father had his pains for nothing, for no influence that could be brought to boar had any effect toward per­ suading his daughter to marry the Prince And it was only his high standing at court that saved Helena and himself from pun­ ishment at this defiance of tho royal will. Helena remained at home until'her father died. Her child was then two year* old, and she set out to find her husband r.nd compel him to acknowledge her as his wife She was accompanied by only two maid­ servants. She made her way to America, and traced her husband to California. A stage-coach accident had thrown her under the protection of an old miner, who knew Rudolph Movitska and myself, and was able to tell her just when we would ride through the pass on our way to tho mines. Then she formed the desperate resolve to waylay her supposed recreant husband and bring him to terms at tho point of a pistol. How she carried out this plan, with the as­ sistance of her two maids, I have already described. Nothing could have b?en more complete than the happiness of this re-united couple when everything was satisfactorily ex­ plained. It was a joyful ending of a very sad little romance. Rudolph Movistka and his family are to­ day living in a splendid home in (California, enjoying the blessings of mutual love and everything that goes to make life a path­ way of flowers. "Rudolph Movitska, I can see by your pale face and trembling hand that you sus­ pect who I am. In my desperation I have followed you to this country to demand of you an open acknowledgment before the world that I am your lawful wife, and this child your offspring." As she spoke she threw off the black veil, disclosing a wonderfully beautiful face. Movitska uttered a hoarse cry and stag­ gered forward. "Helena! Helena! my wife! Oh, God in Heaven, this cannot be reality. I am dreaming--I am mad!" He was down on his knees at her feet, clasping one of her hands in both of his. He was terribly agitated, and his powerful frame shook like an aspen. A surprised, half-incredulous look came into the beautiful face. "You are not--glad--to see me, Rudolph?" she said, in a quivering voice. "Glad--" He rose suddenly to his feet and stood before her. "The Prince!" he gasped. "The Prince!" she echoed. "And what of the Prince? You left me to the mercy of him and an irate father." "But--you--married him!" A lightning flash of scorn and indigna­ tion shot from the splendid eyes. "Married him?" she cried; "when I was already married to you? How could you every believe me guilty of so dreadful a crime? I loathed him--I hated the very ground he walked upon. I would have died before marrying him!" "And the child--" "Is yours, of course. Look at it." He snatched it from her arms and cov­ ered its face with kisses. Light was breaking throngh the darkness now; explanations followed fast; and soon a flood of sunshine dispelled every vestige of_ the gloom that had blinded the eyes of this long-separated couple. It appeared that Helena's father, after she had confessed to him that she was Movitska's wife, still determined that she should marry the Prince. With this end in view he formed a plot. He wrote two let­ ters to Movitska, at Paris.4 One of these was over his own signature, stating that his daughter was repentant and desired to marry the Prince, and begging Rudolph to stay away from Poland and" to keep his secret. But the crafty old man told his daughter that he had written a kind, fatherly letter to Rudolph, telling him he could return to Poland at the end of three months and claim his wife; but that be must not venture to return before the three months were up, as in that case he would endanger both himself and Helena, owing to the charge of conspiracy against him. Then he dictated a note from Helena to Rudolph, in which she innocently corrobo­ rated all that her father had written. Tlie thing the old man did was to produc^Rorged letter, purporting to be from Rudolph, in which he advised her to marry the Prince and be happy, as he had How Starch Is Made. C«rn is first carried by a belt, or otherwise, from the crib to tbe shelter. After the corn is shelled it is carried to the cleaner where all the dust and dirt is removed. It is then, by means of an elevator, deposited in long bins in the upper story of the mill. By means of separate spouts the com is then con­ veyed into large "steep tanks," holding say 600 bushels each. Alter being cov­ ered with hot water it is allowel to re­ main six days, or until it is sufficiently soured. It is then by a screw conveyor and elevator taken to the millstone's hopper. Just before it reaches this point, it passes through a revolving wise screen which separates the corn from the water. It is then conveyed to the mills, be­ ing mixed again with water, and. after going throngh two sets of four-foot millstones, it passes below to the "shakers." These are vibrating boxes, open at one end and covered with a wire and satin sieve. Here the starch and gluten are separated from the solid particles of the corn, which is called "coarse feed." This descends into a well and is pumped up by means of a powerful force-pump and run off into vats for its reception where it is drained and is ready for sale. After passing through the "shakers," the starch and gluten are conveyed to the "run-house," receiving on thoir way a stream of water. The "run- house" is generally a room containing many troughs about eighteen inches wide and 100 feet in length. These runs are slightly inclosed, and while passing through them the starch set­ tles to the bottom, while the watery part passes off, and is run into the gluten vat. The starch is then con­ veyed to the agitator wells, and being mixed with cold water, is thoroughly agitated by means of a revolving rake. It is ready then to be pumped up and passed through a bolting reel, where all the impurities are settled, and the pure starch, pure and white, is con­ veyed to a large receptacle, where it is placed into the mould boxes. After remaining in the mould boxes three or four hours, it is cut into blocks about six inches square, lifted to the second floor, placed on cars and run into the crusting-room, where it remains over night. The next morning the blocks are scraped, or, rather, the crust cut off, with Bharp knives, and are wrapped in blue or bronze paper by one person, at the rate of 800 packages per hour. These packages are placed on cars with slatted frames, holding 392 packages each. As they are tilled they are run into the dark-room, which is kept at an average temperature of 160 degrees; The starch is kept here until it is thoroughly dried into the prismatic form in which it is perchased in tjhe market. The cats are ran to. a ware- room, and the packages wrapped in blue paper are packed in boxes, while those in brown paper are conveyed to the packer and packed in barrels. To obtain a superior quality of starch, the corn must first be properly steeped, requiring skill and experience on the part of the operator. To secure starch from corn in paying quantities it must be properly ground. The next important point is in the sieving. The smallest hole in the sieve will admit impure matter, whi^h it is hard to eliminate. Particular attention is re­ quired in the precipitation of the starch on the inclined plane, fc the dry-room great attention must be paid to the temperature. One too high will produce a scorch, and one too low a mould. Poor Hen's Wives Love Them Best. No woman will love a man better for being renowned or prominent. Though he be first among men, she will be prouder, not fonder; as is often the case, she will not even be proud. But give her love, appreciation, kind­ ness, and there is no sacrifice she would not make for his content and comfort. The man who loves her well is her hero and king. No less a hero to her though he is not to any other; no less a king though his only kingdom is heart and home. It is man's own fault if he is unhappy with his wife in nine cases out of ten. It is a very ex­ ceptional woman who will not be all she can to an attentive husband, and a very exceptional one who will hot be verv disagreeable if she finds herself willfully neglected.--Alabama Bap­ tist. ' . . The Catcher at Home. The Catcher's Wife--Home again, Paddy! Well, what luck? The Catcher--Immense! Wiped 'em out. Tho C. W.--The score. Paddy--the score? The C.--Six to nix. The C. W.--And you, l'addy? Did you-- The C.--Did I distinguish myself? Look at them, my love! (Lays three finger nails and a tooth on the table.) The C. W.--The umpire? (an­ xiously.) The C. (solemnly)--He sleeps. The C. W.--Did you pluckly con­ tinue? s The C.--No; I pluckly retired. And now, darling, to hash!--Philadelphia CalL Hats and Brains. Most of our young lawyers wear plug hats. They deem it proper to put a valuable cover on what they consider a precious head. When they get older they will consider a cheaper hat more in harmony with the contents of the head, and wear a chapean of humble straw.--Punxautavmey Tribune. WHAT you keep by you may change and mend, but words one* spoken jou could never recall- »- MiLT0H*S DOMESTIC HABITS. Mow the Author of "I'Mmdioe Loaf* Util­ ised Hiit Time. At his meals he never took much of wine or any other fermented liquor, and be was not fastidious in his food; yet his taste seems to have been deli­ cate and refined liko his other senses, and he had a preference for such viands as were of an agreeable flavor. In his early days he used to sit up late at his studies, and perhaps he continued this practice while his sight was good, but in iiis latter years he retired every night at 9 o'clock, and lay till 4 in sum­ mer, till 5 in winter, and if not dis­ posed then to rise, he had soma one to sit at hia bsdsido and read to him. When he rose ho had a chapter of the Hebrew Bible read to him, and then, with, of course, tbe intervention of breakfast, studied till 12. He then dined, took some exercise for an hour --generally in a chair, in which he used to Bwing himself--and afterward played on the organ or the bass viol, and either sung himself or made his wife sing, who, as he said, had a good voice but no ear. He then resumed his studies till six, from which hour till 8 he conversed with those who came to visit him. He finally took a light sup­ per, smoked a pipe of tobacco and drank a glass of water, after which he retired to rest. Like many other poets. Mil­ ton found the stillness, warmth and re­ cumbency of bed favorable to composi­ tion ; and his wife said that before ris­ ing of a morning he often dictated to her twenty or thirty verses. A favorite position of his when dictating his versed, we are told; was that of sitting with one of his legs over an arm of his chair. His wife related that he used to com­ pose chiefly in the winter, which ac­ count is confirmed by the following passage in his life by Phillips: "There is a remarkable passage in the compo­ sition of 'Paradise Lost,' which I have a particular occasion to remember, for whereas I had the perusal of it from the very beginning for some years, as I went from time to time to visit him, in a parcel of ten, twenty or thirty verses at a time, which, being written by whatever hand came next, might possi­ bly want correction as to the ortho- grapy and pointing; having, as the summer came on, not been Bhown any for a considerable while, and, desiring to know the reason thereof, was an­ swered that 'his veins never happily flowed but from the autumnal equinox to the vernal, and that whatever he at­ tempted (at other times) was never to his satisfaction, though he oourted his fancy never so much;' so that all the years he was about this poem, he may t>e said to have spent but half his time therein." Milton's conversation is said to have been of a very agreeable nature. His daughter Deborah said he was "delightful company, the life of a conversation, and that on account of a flow of subject, and an unaffected cheerfulness and civility." Richard­ son, to whom we are indebted for the preservation of this testimony, adds that "he had a gravity in his temper, not meloncholy, or not till the latter part of his life, not sour, not morose or ill natured, but a certain severity of mind; a mind not condescending to little things." Facts Concerning Opals. The mineralogists and geologists have offered many clever theories to ac­ count for the splendor of the opal, but no one has completely satisfied everybody, and perhaps never will. It conjectured that it is due to the presence of vuter in its laminae or lay­ ers of tlie^ML but even this is not certain. x^HTurks believe that the gem is of celdStial origin, and thus es­ cape all difficulties at once. The an­ cient opal mines have never been dis­ covered, but there was no doubt depos­ its of the precious stones in Arabia, Syria, and perhaps other parts of Asia, from which the ancients obtained their gems. Central America and Mexico abound in opal-bearing districts, which are much more abundant than might be supposed; but perhaps the finest opals of the present day are obtained in Hun­ gary. The fire opal is found in the greatest perfection in the porphyrite rocks near Zimapan, in Mexico; but while this variety is the most beautiful of all opals, it is also the most sensi­ tive, and is frequently ruined beyond hope of repair by damp or exposure, or even by a sudden change in the weather. There is probably no gem, however, whioh is more subject to in­ jury than the opal. Exposure to the light injures it very materially, though there is not one thing strange about this, the fact being -true also of ame­ thyst, the garnet, and of almost all other precious colored stones. As stated, the finest opals are now found in Hungarian mines. When first extracted from their native matrix, the gems are soft, friable, tender, and easily broken. The first thing to be done is to expose them to the air and light for a few days, until they have become hard, and then their color be­ gins to appear. At the same time the change takes place in the gem, it be­ comes also reduced in size from the evaporation of the qtiarry water con­ tained in its veins. Great care must be exercised in drying the stone, or it will split and crack in a thousand direc­ tions, and become utterly worthless. It is also liable to another calamity, if exposed to a high temperature--that is, of losing iridescence, and, when this once happens, the stone is abso­ lutely worthless.--St. Louis Globe- Democrat. An Eskliuo Illumination. The first snow of the winter does not make good strong snow-blocks for the igloos, however, deep in may fall, and from the time there'is a enough of it, the Eskimo often have to wait thr«e or four weeks before it is fit for building. As it gets too cold in their summer seal­ skin tents before this time comes, the natives generally build preliminary houses of ice, which, singular as it may seem, are much warmer thaa the tents, but not as comfortable as th6 houses of snow. When the ice has formed to about six inches in thickness on some lake close by, they cut out their big slabs of ice for the aides of the house. Imagine an ordinary-sized house-door to be a slab of See about six inches thick; then take a half-dozen to a dozen of these doors, and place them m a circle, joining wotu vuge to edge, but leaning in slightly, and you will have formed your curious house of ice. Over this circular pen of ice--which you can imitate on a small scale with a circular row of upright dominoes on their ends and joined edge to edge--the summer sealskin tent is lashed across poles for a roof, and the ice house is complete. By-and-by, this roof,4 sag­ ging with snow, may be taken off and a dome of snow put on, which gives more height and consequently more comfort. Before these houses get covered in­ side with the black soot from the burn ing lamps, and before the snow outside has drifted up level' with the roof,, a niglit scene in a village of ice, and especially if the village be a large one and all the lamps be burning bril­ liantly, is one of tbe prettiest views a stranger, can find in that desolate land. If you could behold a village of cabins suddenly transformed into houses of glass, and filled with burn­ ing lamps, it might represent an Es­ kimo ice village at night.--Lieut. Frederick Schwatka, in St Nicholas. Safety of Railway Travel; An opinion has been more than once publicly recorded that it is less dan­ gerous to traverse an African jungle than it is to walk about the streets of London. Be this as it may, it Beems clear, from the report just issued rela­ tive to the accidents which have oc­ curred on the railways of the United Kingdom during tho year 1884, that o$e is never safer than when travelling in a railway carriage. We are admit- edly a peculiarly peripapetic people; yet it is impossible to learn without amazement the prodigious number of journeys by railway made in the course of a twelvemonth within these isles. Last year the journeys of season-ticket holders alone amounted to 180,000,000; and when to these are added the jour­ neys by ordinary ticket, we reach a grand total of nearly 900,000,000. It is not easy to realize the true propor­ tions of this vast aggregate. Still some notion of the practical immunity from danger enjoyed by railway passengers can be gathered from the fact that last year the proportions of killed and injured, from causes beyond their own control, reached, in the former case, to only one in 28,000,000, and, in the lat­ ter, to one in every 1,000,000 journeys. But as the amount of travelling by* season-ticket holders is hard to com­ pute, from the absence of any check upon their movements, the present re­ port relies cheifly upon the exact re­ turns of passenger traffic obtained from the issue of ordinary tickets. Thus we find that last year the number of pas­ senger journeys, exclusive of those of season-ticket holders, was 694,991,860, or 11,273,723 more than in the previous year. Calculated on these figures, the proportion of passengers injured dur­ ing the year, from all causes, was, in round numbers, one in 5,148,088 killed and one in 466,124 injured. This is a slightly higher average than that of the preceding year, owing to the fact that in 1884 there were four unusually fatal accidents. The total number of persons returned to the Board of Trade as having been killed in the working of the railways during the last year was 1,134, and the number of injured 4,100. A very proper distinction is drawn be­ tween persons who meet their death through causes beyond their control and those who, so to speak, courted their own destruction. The railway companies naturally do not want to be made responsible for the culpable, and too often fatal, folly so frequently dis­ played by travelers. Excluding, there­ fore, the 180,000,000 journeys of the season-ticket holders, it appears that the proportion of passengers returned as killed and injured respectively dur­ ing the year, by accidents which they cou'd not have prevented, was one in 22,419,092 in one case and one in 801,- 388 in the other. It is interesting and instructive to analyze these figures a little further. Of the 1,134 persons who received fatal hurts 135 were pas­ sengers; of the 4,100 injured, 1,491 be­ longed to the same category. This brings us to another subdivision, upon which the railway companies naturally lay great stress. Out of the 135 pas­ sengers killed and 1491 injured only 864 received hurts, from causes over which they had no control--that s to say, all the rest were guilty in some de­ gree, of "contributory- negligence."-- London Daily Telegraph. Humorous Elephants. A young friend asked me once to show him some elephants in undress, and I took him along with me, having first borrowed an apron and filled it with oranges. This he was to carry while accompanying me in the stable, but the moment we reached the door the herd set up such a trumpeting-- they had scented the fruit--that he dropped the apron and contents and scuttle ott' like a scared rabbit. There were eight elephants, and when I picked up the oranges I found I had twenty- five. I walked deliberately along the line, giving one to each. When I got to the extremity of the narrow stable I turned and was about to begin the dis­ tribution again, when I suddenly re­ flected that if elephant No. 7 in the row saw me give two oranges in suc­ cession to No. 8 he might imagine that he was being cheated, and give me a smack with his proboscis--that is where an elephant falls rhort of the human being--so I went to the door and began de novo as before. Thrice I went along the line, and then 1 was in a fix. 1 had one orange left, and I had to get back to the door. Every elephant in the herd had his greedy gaze focused on the orange. It was as much as my life was worth to give it to any one of them. What was I to do ? I held it up conspicuously, coolly peeled it, and sucked it myself. It was most amusing to notice the way those elephants nudged each other and shook their ponderous sides. They thoroughly entered into the humor o{ the thing.--"Leaxesfrom the Life of a Correspondent." Dumas and the Interviewer. "You are a quadron, I believe. Mr. Dumas?" began ah enterprising inter­ viewer. c "I am, sir," curtly replied Alexander the Great. "And your father?" "My father was a mulatto," - "And your grandfather, what was he?" "A negro," growled the father of French historical fiction, beginning to wax restless under this straightfor­ ward catechism. "And might I presume to inquire what your great-grandfather was?" "An ape, sir," thundered the author of "Monte Cristo," springing to his feet; "my pedigree begins where yours pnds."--New York Times. If He Had Only Seen John. Mr. Kraut--"I don't see Anything so very funny about it." Mrs. Kraut--"You don't see anything funny about what?" Mr. K.--"Why the story about Cras- sus. It says that Crassus died from laughter on seeing an ass eat thistles." Mrs. K.--"Land sakes, John! What would he have done if he had seen you smoking a cheroot? Split his mouth to his shoulder blades, wouldn't he."-- Newma?i Independent. Embarrassing Insinuation. What a little thing will put a man out sometimes! Fenderson was say­ ing, "Meanwhile the stranger gazed on me intently--B "Yes," interrupted Fogg, "with his eyes fixed on vacancy --go on." But who could go on after such an insinuation as that? Tho Greatest Obstacle in the Way of Happy Bfarrlag«» and Happy Homes. The modern girls (and the boys are nearly as precocious) before they have left off wearing bibs, begin to have their Bmall love affairs, and these are con­ tinued with more or less desperation, till circumstances of a sentiment which seem, for the moment, deeper than any ever before experienced, bring about a climax in the shape of a wedding. It is well enough, perhaps, if this climax puts an end to the flame; but, alas, the habit of flirtation is one not easily overcome, and married coquettes and beaux are sadly common, insuring un- happiness, and homes that belie the name. If people of this description could only be paired off together there would be some poetic jestice in their tormenting each other, and meting out a mutual and well-deserved punish- Svent. But likes seldom attract each ther, and more often we see a woman giving in return for the great, strong, whole-souled love of some man, only a fraction of what she is pleased to call a heart. She gives all she has to give, perhaps, but she should have more. The trouble is that she has frittered away her affection, giving a little to this one, a bit to that, and a portion to another, till she really has no heart left, and loses, in consequence, what should have been her life's happiness. Sometimes she has enough sense and nobility of mind left to appreciate what is given her, and her own poverty in response. And then she must quote sadly to herself: ' All the kisses that I have given I grudge from my soul to-day, And of all I have ever taken I would wipe the thought away.1 - ' How I wish my lips had been hermits, Held apart from kith and kin, Thut freah from God's holy service To Love's they might enter in. When the millenium comes, all this will be changed. Boys and girls will be brought up together in a sensible fashion, so wisely taught and guided by their elders that they will look upon each other as playmates, comrades, friends, until the proper time for seri­ ous love-making arrives, while "flirta­ tion" will have be come an unknown custom of the dark ages, the very word marked with the dagger which marks obsolute words in the dictionary of the times. This will be, we fear, like the jubilee of the darkies, "long, long, long on de way," but--we can all do some­ thing to help its coming. For it is the elders who are often to blame for much of the nonsense and sin of the children. So much that its injudicious or abso­ lute wrong is said to them, or before them, putting ideas into their heads that should not be for a dozen years, perhaps. A little incident, a mere trifle, recently observed, will illustrate this point. A bright little 5-year-old boy was playing on a hotel piazza, not long simce, with a winsome wee lassie a little younger than himself. It was was a pretty sight, for they were as mischievous and innocently uncon­ scious as two young kittens. But presently one who had been watching them called out; "Elsie is your little sweetheart, isn't she, Charlie?" The poor little fellow looked first mystified, then shy and embarrassed, as others near by laughed at his perplex­ ity. "Tell the lady that Elsie is'your dear little playmate," said a wise woman who heard it all, and shuddered as she heard it. "Elsie's my dear little playmate," lisped Charlie, and ran off to play again, while the first speaker had the grace to look slightly ashamed of her­ self; for the reply which was put into Charlie's mouth was given with an emphasis that gave no doubt of its meaning. . Another woman met at a certain large boarding house last season, used to ask her son, a lad of 18 or 19, at a public dining table, about his "mashes." Such an expression of anger and dis­ gust would come into his eyes that a looKer-on could not but tremble to see. This was, perhaps sn exceptional case, but the first is not, and we be­ lieve the "flirtation" evil might speed­ ily be reduced to a minimum if young people were but carefully and judi­ ciously trained on that point.--Bos­ ton Globe. Life and Heath in Nature. For some inscrutable reason, which she has as yet given no hint of reveal­ ing, nature is wondrously wasteful in the matter of generation. She creates a thousand where she intends to make use of one. Impelled by material in­ stinct, tbe female cod casts millions of eggs upon the waters, expecting them to return after many days as troops of interesting offspring. Instead, half the embryotic gadi are almost immediately devoured by apawn eaters, hundreds of thonsands perish in incubation, hun­ dreds of thousands more succumb to the perils attending ichthyio infancy, leav­ ing but a few score to attain to adult usefulness, and pass an honored old age, with tbe fragrance of a ^oil-spent life in a country grocery. The oak showers down ten thousand acorns, each capable of producing a tree. Three-fourths of them * are straightway diverted from their arbor­ eal iutent, through conversion into food by the provident squirrel and the im­ provident hog. Great numbers rot uselessly upon the ground, and the fewr" hundreds that finally succeed in germinating grow up in a dense thicket, where at last the strongest smothers out all the rest, like an oaken Othello in a harem of quercine Desdemonas. This is the law of all life, animal as well as vegetable. From the humble hyssop on the wall to the towering cedar of Lebanon--from the meek and lowly amoeba, which has no more char­ acter or idividuality than any other pin-point of jelly--to the lordly tyrant, man, the rulq is inevitable and invaria­ ble. Life is sown broadcast, only to be followed almost immediately by a de­ struction nearly as sweeping. Nature creates by the million, apparently that she may destroy by the myriad. She gives life one instant, only th# she may snatch it away the next. The m'&in difference is that, the higher we as­ cend, the less lavish the creation, and the less sweeping the destruction. Thus, while probably one fish in a thousand reaches maturity, of every 1,000 children, born 604 attain adult age. That is, nature flings aside 999 out of every 1,000 fishes as useless for her purposes, and two out of every five human ~ beings.--Popular Science Monthly. * One for His Nob. Boucicault has put himself on record in saying: "I wish that Adam had died with all his ribs in his body." It might have been better in several par­ ticulars if this had been the case. For instance, if Adam had died a bachelor there never would have been a Bouci­ cault--Puck. THE height of politeness is passing round upon the opposite side of a lady when walking with her in order not to step upon her shadow. Stories of Gen. Barnes told lb story about a lawyer which is a legal classic, but which derived a great deal of novelty from a singularly humorous descrip­ tion of the hero. He said this lawver was rather given to the bottle, and, in­ deed, he was in tho habit of going on protracted sprees. A great many law­ yers do. I know lawyers who go on a spree when they lose a case; and I havq known some who go on a spree every time they got a fee, never knowing how long it might be before he got another. But there is something rather novel and original about the proclivities of Gen. Barnes' hero. He never knew when he started on a spree where it would end. It always began in San Francisco, but he very often sobered up in Virginia, Nevada, or Miltipas, or New Mexico, or somewhere miles from home. He was always prepared for it, however, and whenever ho sobered up he immediately hung out his shingle and started practicing for enough money to take him back to San Francisco, which he always reached ul­ timately. The story is worth repeating, says the San Francisco Chronicle: He got on a "bust" onee, and when he came to the end of his tether he found himself sobering up in Carson. Having but one suit of raiment, he hung up his shingle out the door of his room in the hotel and went to bed while his cos­ tume was being renewed for wear. He was in the depths of slumber when a knock aroused him. He requested the knocker to enter, and a Carson man in Somewhat rough attire, walked in. "Are you a lawyer ?" "Yes," he answered, from the pillow. "I'v got a case for you." He sat up in bed, drew the bed-, clothes around him in an and assumed an interested air. *' "State your case." "Well, you see I rented a field ibr grazing from a man, I put a horse on it and the horse died." "Indeed! Well?" "Well! Hain't I got a case against that man ?" "Unquestionably. But, tell me,what did the horse.die of?" "You see, a rattlesnake bit him and he died." "Ahem!" "Can't I sue the man for the value of the horse? He hadn't any bizness to go and rent me a field with rattle­ snakes in it, had he ?" "You're right, sir, perfectly right. Do you want me to take up the case?" "Yes, of course." "Ahem! What--what amount-- what fee do you propose to offer?" "Well, I haven't got any money I'll give you--I'll give half the value of the horse?" "Very good. What, may I ask--what do you consider is the value of the beast?" "It wasn't very young. It had been kicked by a mule and the gophers had nibbled at it, and it had fallen down a shaft, and it had been fifteen or sixteen years drawing quartz from a mill. Well it wasn't--well I should say it Was worth about $9." The lawyer gently laid down in bed and prepared to go to sleep. He gave one last look at the clieiit. "Good morning. I am engaged for the snake." A well-known lawyer in town had once a case which developed immense importance for a man who is now a millionaire, but was at that time poor. This was a suit brought against him about a piece of land under the Van Ness ordinance. The defendant had engaged to give the lawyer one-third of the property as a fee, contingent. In the District Court the case went for the plaintiff, but on appeal the deci­ sion was reversed and the defendant i won. The lawyer took his third. A few days after the decision the client came in, looking troubled. ' "Look here, that fellow's sued mo again about that land." "On what grounds ?" "An alcalde grant or something; I don't know. I want you to defend me." I "All right." "Yes, but I don't want to put up any | money. How much Will you take?" A "One-third." J "One-third?" jelled the client; "Geeminy; another suit cleans me out." | Generals and Lieutenant Generals. | The office of Lieutenant General was f created for Gen. Washington, in May, J 1798, and March 3, 1799, this office was | abolished. An act of Congress, ap- proved Feb. 29,1864, revived the grade | of Lieutenant General, and March 1, | 1864, President Lincoln nominated Grant to this position, which nomina- tion was promptly confirmed by the | Senate. An act of Congress, approved I July 25, 1866, revived the grade of General of the Army, a rank which, like the other, had never been held by anyone but Washington--and by him only from March 5, 1799, to his death, Dec. 14, 1799--to which grade Presi­ dent Lincoln immediately appointed Gen. Grant, with the approval of the Senate. Ah act of Congress, approved July 28, 1866, provided for one Gen­ eral of the Army and one Lieutenant General, the former officer to receive $13,500 per year, and the latter $11,- 000. When Grant received his com­ mission in July, 1866, as General, the senior Major General in the army, Gen. Sherman, became Lieutenant General. When Grant resigned his commission as General, in 1868, Sherman suc­ ceeded to this grade, and Sheridan, the next officer in rank, became Lieu­ tenant General. An act of Congress, however, passed in July, 1870, provided that the offices of General and Liu- tenant General should continue until a vacancy occurs, and no longer; so that when Gen. Sherman was passed to the retired list, in November, 1883, the oifice of General of the Army passed out of existence. Sheridan, therefore, though the highest officer in the army.' holds the rank of Lieutenant General only, and when his death, or retire­ ment, shall occasion another vacancy, this grade, too, will expire, and the senior Major General will be the rank­ ing officer of the army, unless Con­ gress shall again make provision foi the reviving of the higher grades.-- Inter Ocean. The Bog's Escupe. A Dog, having Discovered a piece oi raw beef in an alley, sat down to Cogit­ ate and Woiiuer. Was it really beef or mutton ? How did it get there ? How was it that Some other Dog had not Discovered and Appropriated it? He was not yet through with his meditations when a second Dog rushed in and speedily Devoured the Prize, but his Meat was Scarcely down before he fell over and wailed out: "Alas! but I am a gone-up Canine! Tbe meat was Poisoned!" Moral: Never accept Something for Nothing without Stopping to ask your­ self where the Profit comes in. --De­ troit Free Press. THE salary of a good designed in jew elry is $4,000 a year. * V - ." -