1 » .. >A/*KaT ' I iManntned to tra«f» abd to «av« i * aiagf* e*nt. ,>pof ofl, > IMit, forb* would not plant MMW hi* Barrow Aeid; laad nnrM wd ilv»n scowled kover fb taeager yield, MM peltry itort on tb« threshing „ rand neglected bla, ' *a htnuid them by: root *oit>n don't jrat ta." tirodse tu a doleful drudge, I dwelling and on his land to be eeen ke waa shrewd and keen alt with a mtaarly hand. wool, there waa little food; _ . indeed, waa the pantry shelf, , T took no heed to another's need. IN waa warmed and well fed himself. Ik* wife, it la true, wonM ecimp and aero#, Mao* and patch aad in eon*# way plan, , As woman will with amaatag (kill. Who !• Mad tor life to a rfeipgy man; Bat oh. haw aba sighed for the thing* l«|̂ The boons and comfort; and larger ltfa' Of which aha dreamed and for which she •cheated When consenting to be Farmer Grudge's wife M Farmer Oradge not an inch would budge Tram the path his penurious father tro<l ; would work in a ditch the corner would nod; bojm, bereft of the joys That otosrs had, were dispoacd to roam. And to spend, profuse, nor to put to use HN leosows they had been taught at hoaaj. --Kentucky Live Stock Record. nam the path his pen Bat, though very riofi, a AU.aay and at dusk in iadlto girts and hi* boi -STORY OF AN HEIRESS. BX WJitDOCE. • "^hjt do you Aink is Tennyson's Jnoat beautiful Mutuant, Miss Holme?" Philip CmtUk inquires. "Aak me what is the truest; perhaps I coeld answer," the reply. "Well, what is the truest, then?" * 'A aorrow's crown of sorrows ia ieaieuib«t!ng 'happier things.'" Philip Carrick is surprised. Oraa Holme |s a bright, sancv brunette, small and deli cate; he does not understand what a wo man like her need know of sorrow, and he •ays as much. "It would not interest yon to know what trouble I may hare had, Mr. Carrick," ahe •ays, coldly. "Every one has some troubles, and they only increase by repetition; be sides, one's confidant is always more or less bored, though politeness HIT keep back all signs of weariness." Philip looks at her in wonder. Her eyes are dark with grief, passion, regret. What is it? She pussies him exceedingly. Never in his thirty years of life, during which he has seen the women of every land, has he met one who so thoroughly interests and mystifies him as this one. They are in a boat; the weather is per fect. Philip thinks he would be perfectly happy it he knew that this girl cared one iota for him; and this he does not seem likely to learn speedily, for she is armed with arrows of sarcasm, which she uses occasionally, and is encased in an armour of indifference, which he has as yet been unable to penetrate. Presently he remarks, reading her name in the volume of "Tennyson* lying on the seat close beside him, " 'Oma'--what | a pretty name!" "Do yon think so?" she asks. "It has always worried me, fearing people would think it an abbreviation for 'Ornament.'n They are floating along in shallow water near the shore, and Miss Holme reaches oat and gathers the lily leaves that lie all around them; it is too' late in the season for flowers. "How beautiful she is!* Philip thinks, watching the little white hands as she gathers the wet leaves. Site is pale and calm, inteat 04 her oc cupation; she seems almost oblivious of the nan who, resting his oats, sits watch ing her. It is sn entirely new experience for Philip Carrick. Hitherto he has been sought after, flattered, and made much of by the belles of society; but here, in this little Essex-village, he has met a lady who is utterly indifferent to him, and, man-like, having found a woman who does not care for him, be proceeds straightway to fall in love with her. He has not knewn Hiss Holme long, and of her family and past history °he knows nothing. He has come to this little Tillage, intending to make it his head quarters while he spends a few weeks in hunting and fishing. He has engaged rooms at a private house, and has there met Oma Holme. She teaches a little country school a mile from her lodging. 80 they have been together more or less for some time; but Orna's vacation is draw ing to a close, and this .golden September day is one of the last which they can have all to themselves. "Don't you dread going baok to drill A B C'8 into the heads of those young sav ages?" Philip asks. "Certainly not; 1 like to teach. Further more, I teach in order to get a certain amount of money with which to purchase things essential to the comfort of a lady of the nineteenth century." Philip makes no reply, but he wishes be bad not asked the question. She can cer tainly be Ten explicit when she chooses. Presently Hiss Holme glances at her watch. As she does so, diamonds flash in the sun. "It is nearly tea-time. Mr. Carrick,"she •ays, "shall we return?" "I think I should like to drift this way forever," he says. "Oh, no, you wouldn't!" she returns. "There is a dam two miles below here, and, if you undertook to drift ever as we are drifting new, you might drift into eter nity." Philip is too provoked to reply. Miss Holme either takes his words too literally, or twists them inlo something ne does not mean; she seems determined not to under stand, and he rows back almost in silence. "I am going to town to-morrow," he says to his hostess, Mrs. Dean; "a party of my friends write me from a little place called Nauseau, in Italy, to ioin them there and go to Lake Como." "We shall miss you." Mrs. Dean replies. He glances across to Miss Holme; she is spreading jelly on bread for a young Dean, and for aught he can tell has not heard a word. Without doubt this country school teacher. with her high-bred face, her diamond watch, and her supreme indiffer ence to Mr. Carrick, is a new sensation to that gentleman. Later in the evening they are sitting with others in the parlor. Miss Holme, rising, says, "Good night, Mr. Carrick; as you go early in the morning, I shall not see you again." There were people looking on; he had meimt to have had a different parting, but she has willed otherwise;he holds her hand an instant in his, Bays "Good-bye," the words half choking him, and she is gone. A week later she is back in her old place, teaching a score of yellow-haired children; she is more lovely than ever, more bitter than ever; she has not done right, she is not doing right; how can she be happv? * * * • • • • t Alfred Crosby and Philip Carrick are. sitting by the lake. Alfred and Philip are old friends. Alfied breaks the silence by remarking, "It strikes me, Phil, that this trip has not beuefiied you; you are |;ale and thin; you look as if you hnd the dyspepsia, or were in love. Honor bright, old fellow, did you (•11 in love while out of my sight?" "Suppose I did, what then?" asks Philip. "But who on earth could you have met here to captivate yon? Was it a daughter of that noble gipsy, or a Norwegian girl? They are about all the women I've seen •iuce I started on this trip." "Oh. quit your nonsense!" replies Philip, *1 stayed a month at Stony Point before eomihg here, if you choose to remember." "But, my dear boy, there was nobody Mute." "On the contrary, there were many nice people there, among them a Miss Holme, who was exceptionally 'nice.'" "Oh, the mischief!" springing off his Cast. "What does she looklike? Describe berJ* * - - Mr. CuttSk wondew if any one can do that adequately, but he says, "She is slen der IISMI pet(fe, k»* *JM> smallest haads I •Tar saw, gnat gray eyas, ches'nut hair, and the hku*feitfee* mavoer r«m obs«r**d. She Is certainly out of hsrale- ment; she is teaching a countmaahool." ' Well," remarks Alfred, "aid *he wear any ie welery--anything noticeable I mean?" "She always wears a bine enamelled watch set with diamonds," returns Philip. "I noticed it because country school-teach ers don't generally possess watches worth a hundred pounds. dl should think not!"returns Alf. "Well, my boy, I am convinced that she ia Baron Payne's niece, and beitess to all his prop erty. He lives at St. Bride's; when I was there last winter she was a great belle. She took immensely, just because she was so utterly Indifferent to everybody. The rBaron has a nephew who is a gambler and everything else that's bad; he paid assiduous court to Miss Holme, and met with no success. He wanted the girl's money--she has plenty in her own right-- and Orna hated him. Finally, one night, he proposed; she rejected him scorn fully. She is younger than she looks, ed ucated in a convent in France, and not Tery well versed in the ways of the world. The scoundrel, furious at having failed, turned on her, told her she was n pauper, that she had no claim to Baron Payne's bounty, being only a waif he had cared for, and there is no knowing what else he may have said. She mnst have been nearly dis tracted. Keenly sensitive and terribly Sroud, strangely enough she never stopped > question what he told her, but, taking a few things that were her own, among them the watch which bad been her mothers, she left the house that night, leaving a note to the effect that she would not trespass any longer on the Baron's bounty. The Baron was frantic. Ho confronted his nephew the next morning, end the coward owned up to enough to make the old man forbid his ever entering the house again. Search for Miss Holme had been fruitless. It is marvelous that you, of nil people, should have found her out and fallen in love." "I didn't say I had fallen in love," said Philip, testily. "No, but your appearance indicates that fact. I shall telegraph her uncle as soon as we reach citivuation, the old Baron will be overjoyed." • • • » • • It has been a hot day, uncommonly so for late September, and Orna Holme, trudg ing along the dnsty road homeward, feels weary and heart-sick. Teaching country children is hardly a congenial occupation for a girl brought up as an heiress, and this day had been an un usually wearisome one. Mrs. Dean meets her at the door. "There is a gentleman in the sitting- room waiting for you,"she says; and Orna, her heart fluttering strangely with the hope that it may be Philip Carrick, enters the room, and confronts her uncle. " Uncle! Oh, uncle!" She is clasped in his arms, and a tor rent of tears keeps back all further words. Having grown calmer, the Baron tells her how Alfred Crosby had telegraphed of her whereabout <, and how he had traveled night and day to reach her. "Why did you do this?" he says, re proachfully. "Could you not have trusted me, and rested in my love?" "Biit he told me that you bad said to him in the presence of others that I was not your niece, and that when I was married your duty towards me would be dis charged. Little by little the Baron convinces the high-tempered, foolish girl how wrong she has been, what danger she might have fallen into by her romantic cscapade; and when, the next day, having procured a substitute to teach the tow-headed children, he starts home with her; it is a very peni tent as well as happy little lady who sits beside him. They both wonder how Alfred Crosby traced her, but it is not till long afterward that they learn. Philip Carrick means to forget the girl who has treated his love so coldly, but to resolve is one thing, and to forget another. He devotes himself to hie profession, but hard work produces weariness, not forget- fulness. And Orna--her heart fails her when she remembers her systematic coldness toward one to whom she finds she has given her love, without any premeditation on her part. Society welcomes her back with open arms, and open siege is made for the capture of her heart; but it is useless. One day a letter is brought to her, and she hesitate* before opening the thick, «!eamy envelope. Having done so, she reads: "DEAR Mtss HOLME--Perhaps it is not wise for me to writ > you this letter. But what does it matter? Why should I try to conceal that which you already know? I love you. I learned the lesson in those beautiful days I spent in your society at Stony Point, and the lesson is one I shall never forget. I have tried hard to forget you, for you never gave me the least rn- con>-acement; but, niy darling, if you will let me try to win your love, with the hope that some day I may be successful. I shall be peifectly happv, for life holds for me no greater blessing than the hope of some time making you my wife. May I come to you? If I see you sometimes I will bo patient, and wait until you are willing to hear all that I would say. I shall count ihe hours until your answer reaches me, and mv love, if you can truthfully give me a little word of hope, will yon not do soV •PHILIP CABBICK." Orna shed happy tears over this letter; she thought he had forgotten her, and has been teaching herself to give him np, knowing-that it is her own fault that she ha5? lost his love. Had she been lesB bitter and cold he would have spoken before he parted. His letter is like a cup of water held to thirsty lips. Fearful of betraying how much she cares for him, she writes briefly: •You may oome. I conld not forget you. Osxi" Two days later Miss Holme goes down to the drawing-room to meet Mr. Carrick. He said in his letter that he would be patient and wait, but a man's love is never patient, and he has waited too long already. Per haps something in the sweet face as she gives him her band tells that be need wait no longer, for he looks down into her eyes and says gravely without preface, "Will you be my wife?" And at last she yields, a prisoner of love. --'k IWNUWTYW The Vivacious Pictsn of m Old Memory. [Amsrtostt Field.! Soma fifteen years ago 1,VM FT lgQj? in my teens, but an enthusiastic lover of the chase and an ardent admirer of the fair sex. I could newer quite de cide in my own mind wliioh waa dearest to my heart--the girls or the hounds. It.is true I went to see the girls oftener* than I went fox-hunting, but many a time and oft have I cut aliort a visit when the fire was warm and the girl was pretty,to go home to give to Bowdy and Rival their evening meal and see that they were comfortably housed for the night. I had learned to hunt under the old squire, an old-time Virginia gentleman, who, although jpast three score years, was a boy in his ardent admiration of the chase, and a desirable partner but dreaded opponent in a game of marbles or quoits. Oh, many 'U game of seven-up, of euchre, of whist, and of. draw-poker have I enjoyed around his hospitable board. Peace be to his ashes; he is now no more, but his memory shall ever be dear to my heart He once paid me a compliment I can never forget. After an unusually long and unsuccessful day's ride he turned to me, calling me by name, and said: "I have raised eight sons and taught them all to hunt, and have also taught a good many other boys, but you are the only one who would ride over with me ail day and be as eager to hunt at night as you were in the morn ing; like myself, you never know when to quit." We had a very dry season the latter part of the summer and early fall,;and could not take the dogs out, somewhat to our chagrin. One day by the way of consolation I rode over to see my elderly friend, and while there the rain began to fall and we hoped for an old-fashioned "dog mire," but were disappointed, for just before sundown the clouds broke away and the beautiful rainbow- declared that the rain was over. "If we had your dogs and George's we would go out to-night on McGraw bridge and start a young fox." This was enough for me. "1 will have my dogs and George's here in less than an hour," was jpy reply. The distance from his house to my grandfather's, where > I lived, was between three and four miles, and almost an unlimited number Smoothing the Bough Places. Black--How do you get along at your new boarding-house ? White--Very well indeed. I am well lodged, well fed, and everything is made comfortable for me. Black--I am surprised. White--Why so ? Black--Because I boarded there my self and I was half starved. I can't understand why they treat you differ ently. White--111 tell you. You remember the landlady's ljaby ? Black--That squint-eyed little brat? I do. I can hear him yelling now. White--The baby is not handsome, I admit. It cries considerable, I allow, but I can't make it any handsomer nor improve its temper, therefore I make the best of it. I call it a pretty little darling, a sweet little tiling. I make excuses for the noise it makes by say ing all children are so. The other boarders laugh at mf-,! but the laugh is on my side when they are sawing away at tough round steak and I am luxuri ating on tenderloin. It doesn't take much effort to smooth over the rough places of life.--Boston Courier. A CITIZEN of Salt Lake, Utah, saw an incipient fire in a shop and smothered it with his coat. He thus prevented a conflagration - but ruined his coat. The proprietor of the store refused to reimburse him, and so did the insurance agent who had a risk on the building. Now the flame-extin guisher declares that he will let the fire burn before he will put it out- Boston Qtobe. >. SILENCE is the sanctuary of prudence. Balthasar Oracian. of gates and draw-bars to contend witk; but my pony, Old Babbit, was fond W the sport, and T whispered in his ear and told him what was on hand. In an hour's time I had returned with my two hounds and with George and his two, which, added to the old squire's five, made nine as good, rattling, red-ftp^: hounds as any neighborhood ever hft£> The squire was ready, as were two o* three of his sons. Two black boys em ployed on the farm were told that if they desired it they might get a pamdf unused horses and accompany us, ana this they did with great gusto, thinking it a great thing to go fox-hunting along with the "gentlemen" on horseback. These boys were very useful that night pulling down and putting up fences. We had gone about a mile when the glorious full moon arose in its splendor, making it almost light enough to see to read. In a few moments after we en tered a bank of mist which was so dense that in the moonlight it looked almost like wool. After passihg through it we skirted its eastern border, with the moon on one side and the bank on the other, and then saw what I pever saw before or since--a lunar bow. I had supposed that it was colored like the solar bow, but I -waa mistaken; it was as white as a sheet and not n^ore than ten steps from us. It waa an arc of a circle of about fifteen feet radiirs^nd about one and a half to two feet in breadth. The squire told the colored boys if they did not ride up close to us that the ghost would catch them. This made their teeth chatter, and had it not been for repeated assurances of safety I have no idea what would have been the result, for, as it was, they shadowed us closely the remainder of the evening. We started a young red, and after an interesting chase the dogs put him in the ground. Another was started--an old red, we thought, for he led the dogs at once to where no rain had fallen in this. partial shower, and soon got away from them. We got home early, but I shall ever remember this as one of the pleasantest evenings of my life. • Babies and«Opinin 8iii«ker«. Mott Street physicians, says the New York Mail and Express, are numerous in the block that begins at Chatham square and ends abruptly at the sharp bend in the. thoroughfare. At this point there are eight shingles in a bunch, in cluding one in Hebrew. The ends of the block mark the limits of what is at once the Broadway, Bowery, and Fifth avenue of New York's Chinatown. Every nation of the immigration records is numerously represented in the neigh borhood, but the Chinese predominate ,in Mott, Park, and Peil streets. This part of the city has a national notoriety as the eastern center of Chinese Amer ica, and is the arena in which the imagi nation of sketch writers has won many a contest with prosiac fact It is diffi cult now to find out anything from anybody in or about Mott street that a healthy reasoning faculty can digest. Formerly the most inter esting and now the most worn theme is opium smoking. Numerous tales of the addiction of cats and dogs to the opium habit have been told by habitues of the neighborhood, but it is only of late that the human elenenthas been introduced in its most startling form. A child, born of an opium-smoking mother in the big tenement house iii Pell street, came into the world with a smudge of opium smut on its body, and at once showed every symptom of the habit, such as yarning, watery eyes, nervous ness, and the like. The smoke of three "pipes" had to be blown in its tiny face every day, after which it be came as bright and merry a 1>ody as the city contained. The mother herself verified the story over an opium lay out, and said tliat Dr. Felix Amabile, of 36 Mott street, would confirm it. The doctor listened quietly to every- i thing that had been learned of the re markable case, and then smiled sadly. "Yes," he said, in oddly-accented En glish, "I remember the girl. I re member the case. The tnother was and is a, hard opium-smoker. Hhe smoked the day the baby was born. The other physicians about her have probably had similar cases. The Pell street child was born bright and healthy, and differed in no way from ordinary babies. If I had known the history of the mother I could not have discovered anything unusual at the birth. The uninitiated will believe any thing about opium. Is* this respect hydrophobia and the opium habit are about on a par. A little truth in regard to both is gradually stealing its way out What could be more ailly than the story that their child was born with opium smut op its body, or that it waa- neoassory to blow the of three pipes into its fkoe every flajr? It is a fact, however, that ' iMibiea require abnor- Mkregonc or other of the' kind when if la . to five it at all. I have learned this by attending a number of ofcildr«e mbont here. 'Hie full heredi tary Wfoat is no4 known in this country owing to the comparative youth of the vice. I hav* m doubt the habit is transmitted, but I do not believe it is ever developed in a baby. Among #rown peraoatr the tendency of the opinm-smoking habit seems to be toward consumption." Insanity Among Rulers. De Quincev, In his wonderful studv of the early Ciesars, the paper in which his power of suggestive narrative and his control over the resources of lan- guajgettre perhaps seen at their best, says the Spectator, m, so to speak, driven by wonder at the wild willfulness of his jsabjecte that all the Ctesars of the Julian house were mad. Caligula may have been, though his symptoms, as re coiled by Suetonius, are rather those of delirium tremens: but the theory which makes of the grand though sinis ter statesman, Tiberius, who gave the Roman monarchy its final impress, a nian of disordered miyd in the ordinary metdioal senses will not readily be ac cepted as correct He was no more mad than Philip II., whose private life was much of the same kind. It would, aa we read history, be far truer to say that power whin really absolute, so ab solute that the volition is executive and the necessity for self-restraiDt is unfelt, produces of itself a special mental dis ease, which is not insanity, because it would disappear with the power, but which has at intervals, like the passion of children, many of its external symp toms and. effect*. Nero, the artist emperor, who was always seeking the impossible, and whom the early Chris tians believed to be the veritable incar nation of evil, may be said undoubtedly to have suffered from it; so did one or. two of the Italian tyrants of the Benais- sance; and so, in our judgment, though it is a disputable point, did Ivan the Terrible. Power of that sort, though it does not always injure the mind--for several of the Caesars and some of the emperors of Delhi were men of splendid sanity and judgment--when it happens to fall to a man predisposed by in herited tendency or by drink or by spe cial solitariness of nature, undoubtedly weakens the restraining force of the will and strengthens impulse until many of his acts resemble closely the acts of madmen. Half the great sover eigns of Asia, if their private lives were accurately known, would be seen to have had their characters, so to speak, poisoned by power, as directly as if they had been poisoned with one of the drugs which temporarily disturb reason. Drink, wild and continuous drunkenness with bad brandy, was the predisposing cause in Peter the Great, and it is believed, in Thebau, and prob ably in the Emperor Baber, who, wise by daylight, would in the moonlight occupy himself with jumping from bat tlement to battlement of his palace, eighty feet from the ground. In Czar Paul the predisposing cause was prob ably an insane tendency though that is not quite proved; and in Alexander III. it is a solitariness almost beyond ex ample. There is not a man in the world mire deeply to be pitied than the pres ent emperor of Bussia. The loneliness of king, a loneliness naturally resulting from their place, which hardly admits of friendship and does not admit of equality, is always terrible, and is fre quently felt by themselves so severely that they break through all restraints >f prudence and moral laws in order to >9 rid of it Corean Beyalty. v?- The Oorean royal family is directly composed of four members--the king, queen, crown prince, and his wife. Their majesties are about thirty-eight years of age, and are very intelligent It is often remarked with wonder and burprise how well posted the king is on foreign inventions, social customs, and political relations. He is short in stature and seems greatly to admire big men. His face is very pleasing and bright. He has a kind lopk and manner and doubtless shrinks from some of the penalties he has to inflict. Her majesty :1s rather tall for a Corean lady ; some what spare, and with a very determined mein. Her face in conversation is pleas ing but one feels that it - could soon change if she were crossed. The crown prince is a boy of fifteen, and is as tall as his father. He is at a time of life when not much can be known as to his future developement, but he bids fair to fill out and become strong of miud and body. Domestically they seem to be a happv family. The Queen is never seen by any men outside of her own family and the many eunuchs of the palace. They like foreign things and will have only the best. They possess a number of handsome gold watches and finely jeweled works, and cases set with diamonds. They use foreign lamps altogether and eat quite a good proportion of foreign food. All Coreans are fond of champagne. Although tic king has been badly deceived at timec. in foreigners, he still eeeme. to belieY» in them, and is very friendly- to those whose duties bring them in contact with him. Some of them have his confident to a great degree. Her majesty seem. to enjoy seeing foreign ladies. 81ie waa very fond of the late lamented Mrf, Foote, and seems quite warmly dis posed toward some of the ladies no* resident at the capital. Banquets art not infrequently given at the palace it foreign style, and that style is well, sustained. At these times the guests first have an audience, and when al< have been received the banquet pro ceeds. The courses are livened by short theatricals, music, and fireworks. The royal hosts are usually secreted in some convenient place, so that they may enjoy the scene without embarrassing the guests by their presence. Thi> table is usually presided over by one of the heads of departments (Cabinet bfficers), and messages are sent in by the royal family, to whom many toastn are ofiered. | ,t >,The Beauties of the System. ' A fire broke out near the Go m ment wharf in Detroit and the officer in charge called a tug, which pitt out the ifire. The bill was sent to Washington and payment refused because the officei did not advertise for sealed proposals to put out the fire and have it done by the lowest bidder. When another fire breaks out in Government property that officer will put an advertisement in the papers asking for the lowest bidder to put it out That is red tape.--Peck's Sun, • ..... DCBDTO 1886 eleven new asteroids were detected, increasing the number known to 264. Of this total, fifty-seven have been discovered by Dr. J. Palisa, of Vienna, and forty-six by Dr. Peters, of Clinton, N. 1, A *erv vioioitt a»d 01-teittpered horse was eattiat Iris hes# off in a very luxu riant loose box, because there no one In the establishment of the gentle man to whom he belonged who AM the courage or strength to enter his stable to saddle and bridle him. If a groom approached for any other purpose than to give him his oorn and hay, he would speedily drive him away bv a free use of his hoofs and teeth. One day at lunch the owner was lamenting the uselessness of the finest horse in his stud to a party of friends, and wound up by saying that he wolud gladly make a present of tfce horse to any one who could saddle and ride him out of the yard. A ytxing graduate of Oxford, Hon. Sidney Lawford, expressed his willing ness to make the attempt, and, though warned by many a blood-curdling re cital of what had been the fate of the grooms and the stable-boys that had made the like effort, he persisted in his determination to try. After lunch all adjourned to the stable in expectation of seeing the young fellow receive a se vere lesson for his temerity. He was known to be an expert in every manly exercise, especially boxing, arid was in perfect wind and training. Selecting a saddle and bridle from an adjacent, rack, he approached the strong bars that opened into the brute's stall, speak ing kindly and, soothingly to him. The horse turned and eyed • the stranger, and, catching sight of the hated bit, became furious, lashing out madly with his heels, and stamping wildly about the stall, making the straw of his bed ding fly in every direction. Without a word the graduate rested the bridle and saddle on the top rail; but the Bteady, undaunted fire of the eye, the firmly coinpressed lip, the backward poise of the shapely head, the swelling muscles of his lithe and active frame as he lightly vaulted into the box, told plainly of the iron, in domitable will and pluck within. Scarcely had he landed on his feet than the now thoroughly infuriated beast came rushing headlong at him, with its satin ears flattened closely against its lean head, its eyes aflame and blood shot, its mouth agape and displaying a set of gleaming teeth, which he gnashed and ground with fury. Sudden and savage though the onslaught was, the young Oxonian was prepared. Throwing himself naturally and gracefully into boxing attitude, he met the maddened animtd with a blow on the temple, just between the ear and eye, swift, straight, and inexorable as from a Nasmyth's hammer, that brought him on his knees. Bearing up and squealing with pain and rage, the brute rushed again upon his foe, who stepped aside, but pale and determined, awaiting his coming. Again a level bolt, straight from the shoulder, flew the clinched fist, and down dropped the horse. Slowly lie staggered to his feet, and tremblipg in every limb, while great patches of perspiration stained his flanks and sides, he cowered in a corner of the stall, completely van quished. The victor soon had the bit in his mouth, and, leading him out of the stall, cantered gavly on the prize his bravery and knowledge had won.-- Outing. ' • A Tree as Old as Columbus. In all cases of the hundreds I have examined of the oaks (the oldest trees of the forest, I think,) I never saw but one that was here when Columbus dis covered America. That one was by far the largest I ever saw, and was over 600 years old--about twice the age of the other largest ones. I could not get its exact age, as it was so decayed near the heart I could not distinguish the rings. It was between six and seven feet in diameter, forked about sixty feet up and each fork was as large as the other largest trees. It was not sound enough to make good lumber, being what is called in this region "doughy"--a state between soundness and rottenness. It had been down a year before I examined it--being out of the county when it was cut--so that it was very difficult to examine it I have mislaid my memorandum of it, but it would be about as follows; At the age of about 200 years it had some ill-for tune which caused it to form about 100 small rings. It then regained its health and formed normal rings for about 140 years, when another mishap caused small rings within the last fifty years, when it was putting on fair growth again. This tree was about one iand a half miles southeast of Bockville, Ind., and was noted among hunters and wood men. It was a disagreeable, showery day when I examined it, and, for that reason, I did not examine its top to see if dead, and lost, and healed-over limbs coincided with the sm|dl rings, but I have often done so in other cases, and found them to coincide.--American Natural « The (J loss from Elbow Urease. A skilled laundryman, when asked what was the secret of his work, re plied : "The secret is pressure, nothing more." The pressure of hot cylinders is used in steam laundries. In a recent visit to a steam laundry we were much interested in the patent appliances for laundering collars and cuffs to make them look like new, and we found that the linen was passed between two mov ing hot cylinders under a pressure of 120 pounds, and thus receives the high polish. The ordinary ironer will succeed well if after being sure the articles are washed thoroughly, rinsed free from all traces of soap and dipped in pure, clean starch, she will use clean, smooth irons and bear down heavily upon the round top of the iron in rubbing the linen. There are starches of various kinds, patent, glosses and divers inventions said to produce a polish upon linen; but the better way is to depend upon the common starch bought in the bulk and of the best grade. Some laun dresses stir the hot starch once or twice round with a spermaceti candle kept for the purpose, and others add a bit of clean mntton tallow; but foreign substances, like wax. gum arabic, salt or sugar, must be added with caution. Very nice laundry work is done by the aid of pure starch alone, with no addi tions.--American Cultivator. Ahead of Time. "You ean't fight here," said Officer Daily as he came upon two men who were wrangling on Clinton street the other day. "Who wants tplf ftoldly demanded one of the twain. "You seem to." "No, I don't! !Pm simply getting mad now so as to lick this feller when he comes out into the country."--De troit Free Press. SIMPLICITY of manner is the lastt at tainment. Men are very long afraid of being natural from the dread of being taken for ordinary. --Jqffrej. y THE man who never committed a folly never appreciated wisdom. IPPii of iliape a resident tittcst-holder under tho ^whington QOTeimment, after his congressional te^m had ex- pirad: "It was ia this «ay that Abra ham Idneoln net and tawntl one of the greatest dangers of hfe Ufa. In after days he Yeoogoiied the eiror he had oomutftted, and congratulated him self upon the happy deliverance he had obtained through no merit of his own. The loss of at least four years of the active pursuit of his profession would have been irreparable, leaving out of view the strong probability that the singular charm of Washington life to men who have a. passion for politics might have kept him there forever. It has been said thaf a residence in Wash ington leaves no man precisely as it found him. This is an axiom which may be applied to most cities in a cer tain sense, but it is true in a peculiar degree to our Capital. To the men who oome there from small rural com munities in the South and West, the bustle and stir, the intellectual move-; ment, such as it is, the ordinary sub jects of conversation, of such "vastly greater importance than anything they have previously known, the daily and hourly combats on the floor of both houses, the intrigue and the struggle Of office-hunting, which interest vast nam- ,bers besides the office-seekers, the supe rior piquancy and interest of the scan dal which is talked of at a congressional boarding-house over that which seasons the dull days &t a village taveru--all this gives a savor to life in Washington, the memory which doubles the tedium of the sequestered vale to which the beaten legislator returns when his brief hour of glory is over. It is this which brings to the State Department, after every general election, that crowd of specters, with their bales of recom mendations from pitying colleagues who have been re-elected, whose diminish ing proyers run down the whole gamut of supplication from St James to St. Paul of Loando, and of whom at the last it must be said, as Mr. Evarts once said after an unusually heavy day, "Many called, but few chosen." Of those who do not achieve the ruinous success of going abroad to consulates who will not pay their board, or missions where they only avoid daily shame by hiding their penury and their ignorance away from observation, a great portion yield to their fate and join that fleet of wrecks which floats forever on the pavement of Washington. "It is needless to say that Mr. Lin coln received no damage from his term of service in Washington, but we know of nothing which shows so strongly the perilous fascination of the place as the fact that a man of his extraordinary moral and mental qualities could have thought for a moment of accepting a position Bo insignificant and incongruous as that which he was more than Avilling to assume when he left Congress. He would have filled the place with honor and credit--but at a monstrous expense. We do not so much refer to his excep tional career and his great figure in history; these momentous contingencies could not have suggested themselves to him. But the place he was reasonably sure of filling in the battle of life should have made a subordinate office in Washington a thing out of the ques tion. He was already a lawyer of skill and reputation; an orator upon whom the party relied to speak for them to the people. An innate love of combat was in his heart ; he loved discussion like a medieval schoolman. The air was already tremulous with faint bugle- notes that heralded a conflict of giants on a field of moral significance to which he was fully alive and awake, where he was certain to lead at least his hundreds and his thousands. Yet if Justin But- terfield had not been a more sopple, more adroit, and less sorupulous suitor for office than himself, Abraham Lincoln would have sat for four inestimable years at a bureau-desk in the Interior de partment, and when the hour of action sounded in Illinois, who would have filled the place which he took as if he had been born for it ? Who could have done the duty which he bore as lightly as if he had been fashioned for it from tfe# beginning of time ?" ^ r ' : r Parisian Advertising Llsfe There are in Paris about two dozen offices called buveaux el'ecritures or maisons de publicite. Their main business consists in addressing en velopes or wrappers for price lists and wrappers. Their principal clients are the large drapers' shops; financial con cerns about the periods of public loans and the launching of joint stock com panies ; proprietors of patent medicines, dentists' and perfumers. But side by side with their principal clientele they have others, special and almost incredi ble patrons. The bureau d'ecritures, if it be worth anything, is sure to possess lists of addresses of the various social categories. The advertiser wishes to submit something to a certain class of the inhabitants, to a certain series of traders, to a community of artists. The office invariably supplies him with the list suited to his purpose. Of course, there is nothing surprising in that. With the aid of a directory, intelli gently gone through, such documents may be compiled. But there are others the drawing up of which absolutely re quires genius--such as, for instance, a more or less complete enumeration of all the stammerers, the lame and the halt, the hump-backed, the over-corpu lent, the defective of sight, the buyers of such and such curiosities. Well, these lists are in existence, compiled by men who have made it their special business. I have a friend who has the misfortune to be bald. Twice or three times a year, as regularly as clockwork, he is sure to receive the prospectus of some pomatum that professes to restore the ambrossial locks of his youth, so much regretted. He probably took oil' his hat one day'in a cafe when in juxta position to one of these amateur statis ticians. From that moment he was a marked man. After all, the clew was not difficult to obtain. But what shall we say for lists of ladies not too plenti fully endowed with the charm which stay makers assert they replace by art for all purposes but the natural one? How did the amateur detective get his material for these? It is a mystery, and these lists exist, for I have seen them, together with others of la.lies and gentlemen whose teeth departed too soon. Every one of these lists is worth about 100 francs to the manager of an advertising office, and he willingly gives it--Paris correspondence Lon- Globe. 1 • • It WoaMa't Be Fanny. "Wouldn't it be funny if ma should happen in on us to-day, George? She does things that way." "I don't agree with yon.** "Why, George, you know ma never announces her coming." "Ye«, but it wouldn't IN funny."--. Tid-Bits. 9 - •.£X * of the < "THBiufsplenty of room at the tope* M the dkaapagiM remarked when 91 flew to the dnde'sdMad. Son* claim that the p«lley is the oldest mechanical invention, but proba bly the crowbar has a pryer claim. "I WOULDH'T be a fool, if I werevW" said Jones to a friend. "If yon wafttt me yoa wouldn't be a fool," was the a* piy* A COBBBSPOKDXST BSJS that "*50,000 in New York don't go very far." H frequently goes as far as Canada, any* way. IN a bookseller's catalogue lately a» peered the following article: "Me ̂ moirs of Charles the First--with a head capitally executed." iv/ TENNYSON says: "Whatever you my boy, begin at the bottom and wC up." "But, father, .intppose I going to dig a well?" WASHINGTON IKVIKO Bissfop Is' an ex* pejt in finding hiatal thljfc*. W* defy him to find an editor"a p* per when the editor wants it. ' „! , "SOMEBODY ought to give a donk< ̂ party," says the Merry War. Thin ft always the way. When a man gets black-balled in a club he wants to form one of his own. SEBVANT--Boss, dam a man at 4« doah wid a bill. Mr- Henpeokr--Yon know Mrs. Henpecl has gone out, and she always takes all the money with her. I haven't got a cent. "What shall Ltell him boss?" "Tell him th|£ the boss is not in.n-^-Texae Sifting«, THEV COULD HOT MABBY. , .. . The man I many mnst have wealth, Said she. • The girl I marry must have health, 17".,. Bald he. 1 " * • • He had no wealth. His earnings he did wMtef!>'- * At night. . She had no health because her waist she laced .L Too tight --Boston Courier. - * WI DO»'T see how yoU get so mt ̂ news into your paper," said the village clergyman to the village editor, "seeing that you have no local reporter." "Oh! that's easily explained," rejplied the editor. "My wife belongs to three sew ing societies in the village, and she_h| an excellent memory."--Boston rier. MAINE lumberman say that caribou grow scarcer with every succeeding year, the deer driving them toward the headwaters of the St John and other rivers. The reason given is that the caribou do not yard, while the deer do, taking the "browse" so clean that tfe$ , caribou find little to their liking left*-- Boston Record. "I SAY, Durnley," remarked Bobin- son, with some indignation, "I hear you have reported it about that I owe you money." "You have owed me $20 for several years." "That may be, but I don't owe yon anything now. Thai $20 debt became outlawed the first of the year. Yon ought not to spread damaging reports about a man," co|^» tinned the still indignant Robinson.--# Chicago Ledger. A CHBISTIAN clergyman once went to an orthodox synagogue with a Jewish friend. He listened to a congregatigit chanting "Mismar I/David" with the usual congregational discord, and was told by his Jewish friend that it was sung to the same tune, in the days of Pavid. "Ah!" said the clergyman, with a sigh of relief, "that accounts for.it. have often wondered why Sanl thre|jf his javelin at David." , . I HAVE pasted up in my office two signs which were taken- from a court room in the Northern part of Wyoming Territory, and read: "No cracking peanuts in this court-room," and "Law yers are not allowed to kiss the baby during court hours." This latter,being translated, means they are not allowed t) take a drink. 4Fhen I saw one in a eourt-room in a town on Lake Superior which read: "This court adjourned at 2:30--the court is going to the dance at H ." The dance was held in % samp about six miles baok of the towtt, --Buffalo Courier. <• 1 Salt for Stock. , V tr Salt is not only the savor of theeart]̂ ; ays a Baltimore paper, but of the flesh ind every known organism. It is a constant constituent of the blood, keep- • ing it limpid and healthful, and is more universally distributed over the globe and throughout all organized nature than perhaps any other com pound. It is also one of the most staple compounds. The waters of the deep are charged with it, and traoes of it may be found in the very air we breathe. By inference, then, we may conclude that salt is an essential constituent of all things, especially of all things organized. The instinots of all animals conour in this--wild animals going long distances to prove it. In countries where it is not accessible, men are willing to pay any price for it. Nor is the relish for it an acquired one, but an instinctive craving to satisfy the de mands for the animal system. Animals deprived of Bait do not thrive, nor wear as sleek coats as those having a full supply. If placed where they have constant access to it no animal will eat too much of it, but if fed irregu larly and at long intervals there is great danger of their taking more than enough for the good of the system. Great care should be taken in the manner of feed ing it that an overdose be not adminis tered. In order to avoid this, the bast way is to allow the stock free access to it all times, and the best form in which to accomplish the object is in the shape of rock salt, that the animals may lick it at will, not overlooking the necessity of placing the same under shelter ana out of the way of the ^ain. As stock of all kinds are now upon grass it is the more necessary that the attention of farmers should be called to tlio subject, and not by salting irregularly allow the stock to so gorge themselves as fre quently to bring on severe cases of purging, and thus endanger the ^al||pf of the animals.. A Wise Crew. Engineer Jack Ellis, of Williamsport* Pa., has a very large and wise crow* He is two feet long from the tip of hi! beak to the tip of his tail feAtliers, and is a scientific thief. A shepherd dog, chained to a kennel in the yard, is one of the worst victims. Whenever he sees the dog gnawing a bone, he sneaks up behind him and grabs him by the tail; the sudden attack causes the dog to quickly wheel about to find oin what's there, but the crow holds on, and goes around with the tail to where the coveted bone is, snatches it up, and in an instant is out of the reach of ti|§ angry animal.--New York Sun» , MANY persons fancy themselves friendly when they are only officio as. They counsel not so much that you should become wise as that they shou|| lie recognized as teachers of wisd6m. | . V-C ' i