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Ti.T.Tvma Iff IMBWII ••PAPA'S BOY." fr\' $v "•P ! , BT BUItT armour ; Aioond the house, from mcratill irigfct, A merry child doth roam: Bis T(>io« la sweet, his spirits ltght,~>, The btoaltog of mv home. ? HI* mother'* passed to rwftlnu abolfc a Where aU if poiico nmi joy, .» •, . * ' Itooblld alone is left to IcfTe; : He now is "Papa's Boy." • " &* •. . V f - Sh bright t>lue eyes and polden halfc Ate never out of sight; " He's mounted now upon my chair, And anting, "Papa, woitel* He's plaoM hU utile cheek 'gainst nin% b Mowing me a toy ; *1" I how can I write a line? Be aays: "Woite, Papa's Ai eVe he nestle* In my lap, 1 While shadows gather 'round; And there enjoys hie little nap Till tea-bell makes its Bound, Then,--half awake and half asleep, ( _ With glance so sweetly coy,-- Be rabs his eyes,--scarce half a And murmurs: "Papa's Boy." Oft on a morn, I lie and dozflt, Build castlos in the air. . , Think what I'd do, were I to 1M0 The cherub sleeping there. The least faint stir that I can make. Ho hails with infant joy: Puts out his arms for me to take, And, "Eiahshy Papa's Boy." jrt "H4* i f. A,- »' 1 GHOST BY CLARA MEBWIK. , Ten years ago I was in the first sur- tw of my life. When jt he grave closed er my parents I thought that there was no place left for me in the world. ',1 was rich, yonng, and my friends and itiity own reflections in the glass told me that I was pretty. Of course, I had m&nv acquaintances; what rich young «W' has not? But acquaintances and friends differ widely/ I did not care lor the people who flattered and made much of me, but I turned, even in the first days of my trouble, to one friend. She, too, was young and handsome. We were schoolmates, but since leaving achool we had seen little of each other; hut when my parents died and Martha ^Jlifton wrote to me tenderly out of her Ml heart, I answered back her love. She asked me to stay with her, and I went How peaceful were those days Spent in her beautiful home! The house and place were called Clifton's Tale. The house was many centuries old. Its architecture was remarkable; its rooms curious. It was a rambling old place, and of course it had a ghost. It stood in the midst of very lovely grounds, overlooking wood and river. Altogether it was one of die most lovely show-places in Newton. I staid with the Cliftons for a couple of months, and during that time the house was quiet, visitors were few-- they eschewed company for my sake. (At the eml of two months I left them, eomforteu and helped, and with many promise* of a return by and by. Cir­ cumstances, however, too varied and too many to mention, prevented that •econd visit taking place for a couple of years. At the end of that time a great longing came over me to see Martha Clifton again. ^ I must write to iter and promise a Visit. I did so, and Jby return of post I gat a short but very Characteristic reply: v - DEABBST H ATTHC--Of eowsel lsag to «ee JOu, bat unfortunately Qm home -Is. fulL Large aa it is, it is crammed from cellar to tttie. My dear, I don't want to refuse you. l do long to see you. Will you sleep in the $fcMstry room? for it ia empty. I dare not put anybody else there, but I don t think von, Xtattie. will be afraid of the ghost If the tjn will, do, come, and a thousand etnpntup your maid Your loviog friend, MABTHA CuraoK, To this letter I mode a short answer, do not believe in the ghost. The Tapestry room will do beautifully. Ex­ pect me to-morrow. The next evening I arrived at Clifton's Yale in time for dinner. The Tapestry rcom looked ^harming. I fell in love with it on the jfpot. and vowed laughingly that the ghost and I would make friends. My •aaid, however, looked grave over my fasting remarks; it was plain that she believed in supernatural visitations, f&ayety of heart, however, was over fbe. I could not resist the influence of tny old friend's company. I felt hap- Jier than I had been since my parents eath, and after a very delightful even- fag. retired to my room, feeling brave enough to encounter any number of frosts that might choose to visit me. e Tapestry room was quite away from e rest of the house--it was at the ex­ treme end of the wing. No other bed- fooms were in tl,e wing. There was a «moking-room, a morning-room, and a little oriel chamber, which Mrs. Clif- fon, in her early married life had curi­ ously fitted up for herself, but now sel­ dom occupied. Neither did she believe in the ghost, but she confessed that this little oriel chamber had an eerie feeling. S; The morning-room opposite, cheer- Iul and pretty enough, was unused. Its urniture was antique; it belonged to a >y-gone day, and its inhabitants were <Aead. The smoking-room also was de- ^fcerted; even the fumes of tobacco had vfeffc it, the judge preferring a more yfeeni^al apartment in the modern part t>f =4>He house. Altogether this wing of <|he old house seemed dead. Visitors <>nly came to it out of curiosity ; they Jbaid brief visits, and preferred doing j»o in broad daylight , It must have *4>een quite a hundred years since the iFapeslry-room in the far end of this gg had been slept in. Old as the er rooms in the wing looked, the jestry-room bore quite the palm of imcient appearance. There was not an ' Article of furniture in it, not a chair, iiot a table, which must not have seen %he light of centuries. < The furniture was ali pi the blackest ' oak; the bedstead, the usual four-pos ter on which our ancestors loved to [•tj; «tretch themselves. But the Carious feature of the room, that which gave it JiJ lts name> was the tapestry. Not an P"' *i inch of the walls was to be seen; they "were hung completely with very an- § fcient and very faded tapestry. There jli,fwas a story about this tapestry. One Dame Clifton, of long, long by-gone I •„ day had worked it, with the help of * . r She had come to an tm- #4# .-timely end on the very day on which & * the great work of her life had been fc -completed. : It does not matter to this story what L-- became of the proud and fair dame,but ife; it was her ghost which was said to k^unt tli© wing and the Tapestrj oliam- \ ber in particular. Warden, my maid, as j|, - she helped me to undress, looked quite ik p^with^?rrorA14.'They do 8»7. ma'am, f* ̂ ame,Clare CUfton appears with her € 4 head tucked under her arm,and threads j; from the old tapestry hanging to her lingers, she dressed in gay silk, that Ife, don't rustle never a bit, though 'tis so thick it might stand all alone, they do W Bay. 'Tis awful lonesome for you §j" Ifiss, to sleep here alone, and 111 stay -with you with pleasure if it come to , that, though my nerves aren't none of ̂ the strongest" . ̂ ̂ Ithaalced Warden, however, Mid sured her that I was sot M Ihe leMt afraid; and she, with a well-relieved face, left me alone. I heard her foot* steps echoing down the corridor--they died away, and I was now oat of reaoh of all human help, for in this distant room, in this faraway wing, no possi­ ble sounds could reach any other in­ habitants of Clifton's Yale. In all my girlhood I was brave; even in the sad depression of my sorrow, I had never known physical fear; never­ theless, when the last of Warden's foot­ steps echoed out and died, and that profouuvl utilluoss followed which can be oppressive, I had a curious sensa­ tion. I did not call it fear; I did not know before that grim and pale-faced tyrant; but it made me uncomfortable, and caused my heart to beat irregu­ larly. The sensation was this: I felt that I was not alone. Of oourse it was fancy, and what have I to do with fancy? I determined to banish this uncomfortable feeling from my mind, and, stirring the lire to a eheerful blaze, I drew one of the black-oak chairs near it and sat down. Warden had looked so .pale and frightened before she left me that out of consideration for her feelings I had allowed her to leave the jewels which I had worn that evening on the dressing- table. There they lav, a set of very valuable diamonds. There was an old- fasliioned mirror on the mantel-piece, and as I sat by the fire I saw the re­ flection of my diamonds in the glass. As I noticed their sparkle again that strange sensation returned, this time more strongly, this time with a cold shiver. I was not alone. Who was in the Tapestry room? Was it the ghost? Was the story true, after all? Of course I did not believe it. I laughed alond as the thought came to me. I felt that I was getting quite silly and nervous. There -was nothing for me but . to get into bed M quickly as possible. I was about to rise from my easy chair and go over to the old-fashioned four-poster, when again my attention was attracted to the glass over my head. It was hung in such a way as to reveal a large portion of the room, and I now saw, not the diamonds, but-- something else. In the folds of the dim and old-worn tapestry I saw some­ thing move and glitter. I looked again; there was no mistaking it--it was an eye, a human eve, looking fixedly at me through a hole in the canvas. Now, I knew why I felt that I was not alone. There was some one hidden between the tapestry hangings and the wall of the chamber. Some one, not a ghost. That eye was human, or I had never looked on human eye before. I was alone with a thief, perhaps with worse, and gems of immense value lay within his reach. I was absolutely alone, not a soul could hear the most agonized cry for help in this distant room. Now, I knew, if I had ever doubted it before, that I was a very brave woman. The imminence of the peril steadied my nerves which a few minutes before were beginning to quiver. I neither started nor exclaimed. I felt that I had in no way betrayed my knowledge to my terrible guest. I sat perfectly still, thinking out the situation and my chances of escape. Nothing but con­ summate coolness could win the victory, and I resolved to be cooL With a fer­ vent and passionate cry for succor I rose from my chair, and going to the dressing table, I slipped several costly rings off my fingers. I left them scattered carelessly about. Then I put the extinguishers on the candles--they were wax, and stood in massive silver candle-sticks. The room, however, was still brilliant with the light of the fire on the hearth. I got into my bed, laid my head on the pillow, and closed my eyes. It may have been ten minutes--it seemed more like an hour to my strained senses--before I heard the faint­ est movement. Then I discovered a little rustle behind the. tapestry, and a man got out. When he did so I opened my eyes wide; at that distance he could not possibly see whether they were open or shut. He was a powerful man, very tall and of great breadth. He had a black beard, and a quantity of black hair. I also noticed a jjecul- iarity; among his raven locks was one perfectly white. One thick, whittt lock aung back off the forehead--so white was it that the fire instantly revealed it to me. The man did not glance toward the bed; he went straight, with no particu­ lar quiet, to the dressing-table. I closed my eyes now, but I heard him picking up my trinkets/ and dropping them again. Then he approached the bedside. I felt him coma close, I felt his breath as he bent over me. I was lying on my side, and my eyes were shut, I was breathing gently. He went away again, and returned to the dressing-table. I heard liiw rather noisely strike a match, then with a lighted candle in his hand he once more approached the bed. This time he bent very low, and I felt the heat of the flame as he passed the candle softly before my closed eyes. I lay still, however; not a movement, not a hur­ ried breath betrayed me. I heard him give a short, satisfied sigh, and again, candle in hand, he re­ turned to the dressing-table. Once more I heard the clinking sound of my jewels as they fell through his fingerB. There was a pause, and then--for no reason that I could ever explain--he left the diamonds untouched on the table and went to the door. He opened the door and went out. I did not know what he went for--perhaps to fetch a companion, certainly to return--but I did know that my opportunity had come. In an instant, quicker than thought, I had started from my feigned sleep; I was at the door, I had bolted and locked it. There were several bolts to this old-fashioned door, there were even chains. I drew every bolt, I made every rusty chain secure. I was not an instant too soon. I had scarcely fastened the last chain, with fingers that trembled, before the thief returned. He saw that he had been outwitted and his savage anger knew no bounds. He kicked at the door and called on me wildly to open it; he assured me that he had accomplices outside and that they would soon burst the old door from its hinges, and my life-would be the forfeit. To my terror I perceived that his words were no idle boast. The door, secured by its many fastenings on the one side, was weak on the other; its hinges were nearly eaten through with rust, they needed but some vigor ous kicks to burst them from their resting-places in the wood. I knew that I was only protected for a few minutes, and that even if the thief was alone he had but to continue to assail the door as vigorously as he was now doing for a little longer to gain a fresh entrance into my chamber. I rushed to the window, threw up the sash, and bent half out Into the clear, calm air of the night I sent my strong voice. "Help! help! --thieves!--fire!--danger' --help! help!" . . . , f-ft • ' • Irm tt m was. no eeha Mv room looked into ft shrubbery; the* ham wfts lete, and the whole household was in bed. The thief outeide was evidently melting Way with the musty hinges and I was preparing, at the risk of any oonsequenoes, the moment he entered the room to, leap from the window, when I heard a dog bark. I redoubled my cries. The bark of the dog was followed by foot­ steps; they came nearer, treading down fallen branches, which cracked under the welcome steps. The next instant a man came and uioad uiidci the window, and looked np at me. He was probably a villager taking a short cut to his home. He stood under the window, and seemed terrified; perhaps he took me for the ghost. He was not, how­ ever, all a coward, for he spoke, "What is wrong?" he said. "This is wrong," I answered, "I am in extreme danger. There is not a mo­ ment to lose. Go instantly, and wake up the house, and say that I, Miss Coyle, am in extreme danger in the Tapestry wing. Go at once--at once!" I spoke distinctly, and the man seemed to understand. He flew away, the dog following him. I threw myself on my knees, and in the terrible mo­ ments that followed I prayed as I had never prayed before. Would the man be in time ? Must my young life be sacrificed? Ah! no, I heard joyful sounds; the thief's attacks on the door ceased suddenly, and the next instant the Judge's hearty voioe was heard, "Let me in, Hattie! What is wrong, child?" I did let him in, and his wife, and several alarmed looking servants who followed after. We instantly began to look for the thief, but--mystery of mysteries--he had disappeared. That terrible man with the black hair and white lock over his forehead had vanished as completely as though he had never been. Except for the marks which he had made with his feet on the old oak door there was not a trace of his existence. I believe the servants doubted that he had even been, and only thought that the young lady who was foolish enough to sleep in the Tapestry room had been visited by a new form of the ghost. Be that as it may, we never got a clew to where or how the man had vanished. • * * '• • * • Three years later I was again on a visit to Clifton's Yale. This time I did not sleep in the Tapestry room. I now occupied a most cheerful, modern, and unghost-like room, and but for one cir­ cumstance my visit would have been thoroughly unremarkable. This was a circumstance which seems in a wonderful way to point a moral to my curious tale. I paid my visit to the Cliftons during the assizes. Judge Clifton, as one of the most influential country magnates, was necessarily much occupied with "his magisterial duties during this time. Every morning he went early into L , the town where the assizes were held. One morning he told us of a case which interested him. "He is a hardened villain," he said; "he has again and again been brought before me, but he has never yet been convicted. He is unquestionably a thief; indeed, one of the notorious characters in the place; but he is such a slippery dog no jury has yet found him guilty. Well, he is to be tried again to-day, and I do hope we shall have Bome luck with him this time." The Judge went away, and it came into his wife's head and mine to pay a visit to the court and see for ourselves the prisoner in whom he was interested. No sooner said than done. We drove , into L , and presently found our­ selves in the crowded building. When we entered the case under discussion had not begun, but a moment after a fresh prisoner was ushered into the dock. What was the matter with me? I found my dight growing dim; I found myself bending forward and peering back. The sensation of a couple of hours of mortal agony returned to me again. Who was in the prisoners' dock? I knew the man. He was my guest of the Tapestry room of three years ago. There he stood,surly,in different, with his vast breadth and height, his raven-black hair, and that peculiar white lock flung back from his brow. He did not glance at any one, but kept his eyes on the ground. I could not contain myself; I forgot everything but my sense of dis­ covery. I started to my feet, and spoke. "Mr. Clifton, I know that man; he was in my room three years ago. Do you remember the night when I got the terrible fright in the Tapestry chamber in your house ? There is the man who frightened me. I could never forget his face. There he stands." Whatever effect my words had on the Judge, there is no doubt at all of their remarkable significance to the prisoner. His indifference left him; he stared with wide-open and terrified eyes at me. All his bravado left him, he muttered something, his face was blanched; then suddenly he fell on his knees and covered his face with his hands. My evidence was remarkable and conclusive; and that day, for the first time, Hercules Strong was committed to prison. He had long been the terror of the neighborhood, and no one re­ gretted the just punishment which had fallen on him. What his subsequent career may be I know not; this is the present end of my strange story. > The very parents who speak so bit­ terly of the encouragement given to young men's extravagance by the modern college life have carefnllv trained their sons for just the life whicn they have found. Usually men in moderate circumstances, they have never compelled their sons to earn a dollar in their lives, or to know the cost or value of money, orto deny them­ selves anything within their reach, or to do anything except spend money when a favorable opportunity offered. The sons, passing for the first time be­ yond the father's eye, and able to plead circumstances which parents cannot deny from personal knowledge, are in a fair position to deplete the paternal pocket-book, and have never been trained to refrain from improving such an opportunity. It is not for his own selfish gratification that the son joins this or that college society, or takes all the college papers, or "goes with the nine" to watch an intercollegiate game in another college town, or does any of the other things for which his father has to pay,--not at all; it is only because he would be' ostracized in college if he refrained from such indulgence. Such are the statements which accompany the peri­ odical petitions for cheeks; and the father, finding it easier to curse oollege extravagance than to take the trouble of ascertaining the true state of the case, continues his mistraining of the boy by paying his bills until, at the end of the college course, the son is turned loose upon the world, to And at last ! what a dollar really means.--The Cen­ tury. Telegraph O£*rators Who Average Iteiy- Arm Words • Minute. rThe Penman.] Telegraph operators, taken alto­ gether, can probably write faster than any other ouu of men who use the pen. It is also true that the telegraph oper­ ators of America are much faster and in every way better than those of En gland or any of the continental coun­ tries. This is probably due to the fact that in England the telegraph is con­ ducted by the government, and there >'n JifctJ o ooinpctition. or indr^oroenf^ of any kind to lead the operators to im­ prove or exceL In America it is just the reverse. The salary is in accordance with the work of the employe, and a first-class man need never be without work at good pay. Before an operator can seonre a berth in any first-class office he must be able to "take" on a test at an average rate of sending, and make a "clean" copy of the message. A single glance at a "copy" is sufficient to inform the manager whether the applicant is an old operator or not, for there is a peculiarity about the penmanship of telegraphers that is unmistakable. From necessity there is very little flour­ ish in the writing, and the pen is pulled rather than pushed over the paper, and is very seldom lifted from the page. That aocounts for the frequency with whieh different words in messages are connected by hair lines. Very often an entire line is written withotff the pen leaving the paper. "I'll tell you how it is that telegra­ phers become fast penmen," said an ex­ pert operator. "It is not because they are any quicker in moving their fingers than other penman, but because they must keep up with the instrument from which they are receiving. Operators will not 'break* a sender if they can possibly help it, and they keep their pens moving as rapidly as possible in order to avoid breaking. Very few telegraphers can follow more than five words behind the instrument, and the majority cannot drop three words be­ hind and not make a 'bull' of it. Since they must keep up they do their best, and the result is they improve in speed. Another fact:--Operators cannot write nearly as fast when they are not receiv­ ing as when they are following the in­ strument. There are many telegra­ phers who can make a legible copy at the rate of forty-five or even forty-eight words a minute while receiving who could not put forty words on paper at other times. "I knew an operator who made a wager of an oyster supper for a dozen men, several years ago, with a reporter, that he could write legibly five words more a minute, for three minutes, than the reporter, who was a fast penman. The reporter succeeded in getting down 114 words in three minutes, a friend reading to him from a newspaper artiole. The average was just thirty- eight words. The operator then in­ vited the party to a telegraph office, and got one of the fast men there to send' for him, taking the same article from which the reporter had written. The operator copied forty-six words the first minute, forty-four the second and forty-five the third, winning with ease. He then tried to do the same, having a man to read to him, and only averaged forty words." During the great Boston fire an opera­ tor in New York received 248 "mes­ sages between seven o'clock and noon, and sent 216 during the afternoon of the same day. The messages, includ- the address signatures, date line and "checks," averaged thirty words. Thus during the five hours he was wielding the pen, he copied over seven thousand five hundred words, or fifteen hundred words an hour. There are a dozen operators in Philadelphia who could beat even that if they were called upon to do it. These men would probably not break the sender once in an hour, if the latter was a good operator, and, when through, it is doubtful if they would remember a word they Jiad penned. The operator is simply a machine; the sound of the instrument enters his ear and runs out of his arm to the nib of his pen to the paper. The writing becomes almost involuntary. All About Ears. A writer in Harper's Bazar says: "A curious proposition has been made by the Chief of Police of one of the large European cities, that photographs of criminals should be taken, not with the full face as now, but with the side face in view, using the ear especially, other features changing with the course of time--a mouth falling, an eye sinking, a nose projecting, a brow growing prominent, a cheek either baggy or hollow, a chin either pointed or doubling,--but an ear always remains unchanged into old age, and no two ears being alike; so that a thief would be known by his ear as long as there was anything left of him. "This would seem to involve a singu­ lar error on the part of those who fol­ low such hasty advice. No organ, any close observer will declare, changes shape more than the ear does. Even the piercing of the lobe for earrings will often pull it down and inflate it so as to work complete transformation there; and any one who has a gouty ac­ quaintance may see the change wrought in the ears by the chalky lumps and concretions under the skin that never fail to show themselves there, that sometimes attain the size of the curious little notches seen in the upper edge of many ears, and said by those who have faith in the intricacies of evo­ lution to be the remnant of the ancestral ear of the last apish progenitor. Few features of the human body are more distinctly beautiful than the ear, when it is a beautiful ear; that is to say when it is rosy and little, and so thin that the blood glows behind it like a flame. No sea shell with its myriad delicate whorls, with its pink and white, with polish and brittle daintiness, is half so lovely, for no sea shell, after all, is alive when we see it, or when it has reached that stage of beauty. But the ear in its perfection has the white throat beneath it, the clustering hair above it, the damask cheek beside it, and it is set off and heightened in every line and tint by its surroundings, and as often as not has the eye of the be­ holder fastened to it on the point of a quivering jewel glittering in it. Yet, let the ear be ever so small and curly --a bit of transparency in the young girl--hers will be a very exceptional case, if, when she has attained the age that makes caps advisable, she is not glad of the cap to hide a large flat piece of cartilage on either side of her head--not the least disagreeable of the disagreeable things that have come to her as warning and evidence of the end of all things. This is not the case with every person, of course; enough people to prove the rule retain a sufficient shape to the ear into old age; but by far tno greater aumber of ears cease to be ob- 4fS|§.0fi wi4s|i,fta;fiyeof another •' t"4- "f!& ' ' - V \ to. make contemporary .pnl gp . hand to see if hip own ears hare turned into flaps of elephantine paroportiivas. As life goes on, every year uncurls and straightens out the pretty whorls of most ears, and flattens, and seems so to enlarge, the upper and outer edge, per­ haps not through growth, not even through the daily wiping of the part, as muoh as through the loss of fat in the tissues and the falling away of neighboring roundness and plumpness; the one rendering the cartilage smooth, the other making it seem larger than it is by comparison. In either OVOHI, ear of the criminal of to-day will hardly bejthe same ear to appearances ten years from to-day--will be a very different ear in twenty years. The ears of elderly persons tell the sad tale to any one who cares to scrutinize them in suf­ ficient numbers to generalize from what is seen, and any one who cho^e? may re­ gretfully watch the process as time passes, which transforms one of the choicest features of physical charm into one of the ugliest." Cruelly TreateiL Some boys find it hard to obey even the reasonable commands of their teachers. It is not a good sign in them, for when it comes to disobeying lawful authority, true manliness should lead them to avoid doing it, even when the requirement does not seem reasonable. We heartily congratulate all our school­ boy readers that it has fallen to their lot to go to school now, in this age, when, for the first time in the history of the human race, teachers are learn­ ing to treat their pupils with decent respect. _ The cruel punishments of former times, bad as they were, were perhaps not at> hard to bear as those which de­ graded boys in the sight of their fellows, and, still worse, degraded them in their own eyes. Several of these were mentioned by a speaker at the recent celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the City of Lowell. It did not hurt a boy's head much to stick a tall foolscap upon it, nor his nose to have two clothespins put astride of it, but it hurt his feelings terribly. One of these punishments was to com­ pel the culprit to spring up, seize an iron staple in the ceiling, and hang to it by his hands to the last possible second, the master standing by, stick in hand. Boys were made to stoop down, place one finger upon the head of & nail in the floor, and so remain until the torture could be borne no more. Sir Francis Doyle, an English gentle­ man, who ig yet in the land of the liv­ ing, tells a story or two of his life at a highly fashionable French school in London, which shows how little the feelings of boys were formerly regarded on that side of the Atlantic. The head boy of the school, Cod ring- ton by name, son of the famous Admi­ ral, and himself an Admiral since, could not help making a wry face one day at some particular nasty pudding on his plate. The master roared at him,-- "Monsieur CoJrington, Monsieur Codrington, what are you doing there ? If the Prince He gent were to come here to dinner, I should not give him a better pudding than that! Upon your knees, Monsieur Codrington, and eat it at once!" The boy had no choioe but to obey this ridiculous order. He got down upon his knees and ate the whole of "the filthy mess," as Sir Francis Doyle calls it, while the master stood over him watching the operation. As the last spoonful disappeared, poor Cod­ rington gave a sigh of relief, whioh was, unfortunately, heard by the irate Frenchman. "Madam," he cried to his wife, "give some more pudding to Monsieur Dod- rington!". The second portion had to be de­ voured before the boy could hkve the roast mutton whioh was the main stay of the dinner. It was a practice in boarding schools then to get the boys pretty well filled up with cheap pud­ ding before any sign of meat was allowed to appear. Our boys are, happily, not now sub­ jected to infamies of this kind, so well calculated to crush the gentle souls, and to convert the stronger ones, in to ruthless despots. And this is a new reason for cultivating a manly spirit of obrtdieiiue to lawful authority that the bojs should remember. French Fraternity. In France, indeed, fraternity is, as it were, in tho air. This sentiment, which is tho poetic side of the notion of equal­ ity, to which the French have been so profoundly attached since the very be­ ginnings of modern society, during the break-up of the Middle Ages, is to be read in the expression and demeanor of every one to be met with in the streets as unmistakably as it is stamped on all the buildings belonging to the state. Insensibly you find yourself setting out with the feeling that every stranger is amicably disposed. Arriving from Lon­ don, either at Paris or at the smallest provincial town--Calais itself, say--the absence of individual competition, of personal preoccupation, of all the varied inhospitality, the stony, inaccessible self-absorption which depress the stranger in London whenever he is out of hail of an acquaintance, the con­ spicuous amenity everywhere suffuses with a profoundly grateful warmth the very cockles of the American's heart At first it seems as if all the world were really one's friends. People with suoh an aspect and deportment would be, certainly, in New York; in New York you would feel almost as if you could borrow money of them without security. You look for the personal feeling, the warmth, the glow which such evident amenity stimulates in your own breast. You find no real re­ sponse. you feel somehow imposed upon and resentful. Nothing is less agreeable to the Anglo-Saxon heart than to discover that it has beaten with unreasonable warmth, that the occasion really called for no indulgence of senti­ ment. You understand Thackeray's feeling toward the "distinguished foreigner" whom he met crossing the Channel, and who "readily admitted the superiority of the Briton on the seas or elsewhere," only to discover himself, the voyage over, in his real character of a hotel-ruuner--or, as Thack ray puts it, "an impudent, sneaking, swindling French humbug." --W. €. Brow.iell, in Scribtier's Magazine. Simply Bewildering. A.--Excuse me, sir, are you the son of my old friend Peterson? B.--No, I am not related to him at all. A.--I knew it as soon as I laid eyes on you. I was struck at once with your marvelous lack of resemblance to him. The way you don't look like him is simply bewildering.--Texas Sifting8. IN this world of ehange, naught which comes stays, and naught which * -1M - v. . • • in t»j «te migbty river, weet and south by the rock-ribbed j&ghlands. The plateau, little by Uttft, has been levelled and graded, until to-day it is a broad, beautiful, , grass-grown plain, bound on the west by the cozy homes of the officers and professors, on the south by the stately barracks, the grim, old-fashioned "Academic," the Grecian Chapel, and the domed turrets of the library. Skirting the precipi­ tous river-banks, a broad, graded road encloses the plateau on the north and ©act, and others, as hmd and ^ofully kept, border it on west and south, and nearly bisect it along the meridian. Covered with well-cropped turf, the western half of the "plain" is devoted to infantry drills; the batteries and the crunching hoofs of the horses are lim­ ited to the gravel of the eastern half. All around are the rocky heights, trimmed with pine and fir and cedar, with here and there a peep at the stony parapet of Bome old redoubt or battery thrown up in the days of the revolu­ tion. The square-buUfc hostelry, once and for years known as Boe's, stands perched at the northeast limit of the plain. Statues in bronze or marble gleam here and there amid the'foliage, and tell of deeds of heroism and devo­ tion on the part of the sons of the old academy. The tall white staff glistens against the dark background of the Highlands, and throws to the breeze, high over all, the brilliant colors of the stars and stripes; and on the eastern verge of the broad plateau lies the camp ground, the summer home of the corps of cadets. Laid out in mathematical regularity, with well-gravelled pathways, sentry posts, and "color-line," and shaded by beautiful trees, the encampment, like everything else at West Point, is so ex­ quisitely trim and neat as to have little resemblance to the "tented field" as seen in actual service on the frontier. The white tents gleam in accurate ranks that look as 'though they were pitched by aid of the "straight-edge" rule. Farthest to the west are the guard and visitors' tents; then comes an open space between them and the oolor line, along which the arms are stacked every bright day. It is in this space that the camp ceremonies--guard mounting, dress parade, and the weekly inspections--take place. Immediately behind the color line are the tents of the four companies, two inward-facing rows to each, with a broad alley, known as the "general parade," separating the right and left wings. The company streets run east and west perpendicu­ larly to the color line, and tho tents of the cadet officers are pitched looking west along the streets of their re­ spective companies. Behind the rows of company officers' tents, and opposite the right and left of camp, are the larger domiciles of those cadet mag­ nates the Adjutant and Quartermaster. Back still farther are the double tents of the four army officers who are the immediate commanders and instructors of the four companies; and behind them all, at the reax of camp, is the big "marquee" of the commandment of cadets. Dotted about the rear of camp are the little tents occupied by the drum-boy "orderlies," the boot-blacks, varnishers, etc.; and around them all, day and night, paces the chain of sen­ tries, which, posted in mid-June, is never removed until the simultaneous fall of every tent on the 28th of Au­ gust. -- Captain Charles King, in Harper's Magazine. ^ The Chapel Pastor in Rural England. There is no man so feasted as the chapel pastor. His tall and yet rotund body and his broad red face might easily be mistaken for the outward man of a sturdy farmer, and he likes his pipe and glass. He dines every Sun­ day, and at least once a week besides, at the house of one of his stoutest up­ holders. It is said that at such a din­ ner, after a large plateful of black cur­ rant pudding, finding there was still some juice left, he lifted the plate to his mouth and carefully licked it all round; the hostess hastened to offer a spoon, but he declined, thinking that was much the best way to gather the essence of the fruit So simple were his manners he needed no spoon; and, indeed, if we look back the apostles managed without forks and put their fingers in the dish. After dinner the cognac-bottle is produced, and the pas­ tor fills his tumbler half full of spirits, and but lightly dashes it with water. It is cognac, and not common brandy; for your chapel minister thinks it an af­ front if anything more common than the best French liquor is put before him. He likes it strong, and with it his long clay pipe. Very frequently another minister--sometimes two or three--come in at the same time and take the same dinner, and afterward form a genial circle, with cognac and tobaccr>, when the room speedily be­ comes full of smoke and the bottle of brandy &oon disappears. In these family parties there is not the least ap­ proach to over-conviviality; it is merely the custom--no on a thinks anything of a glass and a pipe; it is perfectly inno­ cent ; it is not a local thing, but com­ mon and understood. The consump­ tion of brandy and tobacco and the good things of dinner, tea, Mid supper (for the party generally sit out the three meals), must in a month cost the host a good deal of money, but all things are cheerfully borne for the good of the church. Never were men feasted with such honest good-will as these pastors, and if a budding Paul or Silas happens to come along who has scarce yet passed his ordination the vouthfui divine may stay a week if he likes and lick the platter clean. In fact, so constant is his hospitality that in certain houses it is impossible to pay a visit at any time of the year without finding one of theBe young brothers re­ posing amid the fat of the land, and doubtless indulging in pleasant spiritual communion with the daughter* of the mansion. Something in this system of household ministers of religion reminds one of the welcome and reverence said to be extended in the East to the priests, who take up their residence indefinitely and are treated as visible incarnations of the Diety, whoso appetites it is meritorious to satisfy. --Longinun's Magazine. The Intelligent AgricnlUlriifc. "Got any cow bells?" "Yes, step this way." "Those are too small. Haven't you any larger?" "No, sir; the largest ones are all sold." Busticns started oft and got as far as the door, when the clerk called after him: "Look here, stranger, take one of these small bells for your cow, and you won't have half the trouble in find­ ing her; for when you hear her bell you will always know she can't be far off!" The farmer bought the belL--Texas ».A> •- c .<r -' -IK r • ' « j is*; m* in** pea. i*e there Hi I One p. f Ex*OS*d to many a farying sitnaiion I --The juryman. ^ MABBTXHO by proxy J* what may be considered a proxy-mate i "Birds nut one fedder goes mid xiem- selvea." § "CANADA is the cheese!" I cries an exchange. It may be--it may I be--lots of skippers there. I A MusTAHE-ri;AgTEK fc pot a very po- I etic subject, but, ah, how warmly u ap» I peals to a man's feelings. | NOTHING goes so fast as ti*n^( M p they say; and yet there are plenty of f men who find no trouble in passing it. i AN exchange thinks there ought to be a change in the marriage ceremony. • Leave the marriage oeremony alone-- it is all rite. SEVERAL people are laying to the first greenback ever i*uied, when everybody knows that the first green back ever issued was the frog. HE--Dese heah kears are mighty dangerous, and hit's mostly de las' kear what's smashed up. She--Why don't dey leave off de las' kear, den?" IT is very difficult for a lady to enter and leave a carriage properly. It re­ quires practive and a carriage. The carriage is the hardest part to aoquire. HE (anxiously)--Miss Jones, do you ever put your hair up in curl-papers? She (indignantly)--No, sir! never. He (tenderly)--Miss Jones, will you marry me? SHE--I like this place immensely since they have the new French chef. He (weak in his French, but gener­ ous to a fault)--Waitah, bring chef for two! ONE of the teachers in the school at Hampton, Va., recently asked one of the Indian pupils what lbs. stood for. "Elbows, I guess," was the unexpected reply. , HENRY BERGH has thirteen printed rules on "How to approach a kicking horse." If a man forgets one of them for the hundredth part of a second he is a goner. BKOWN--I detest that fellow Crape. Jones--The undertaker? Brown -- Yea He is all the time talking shop. Every time he meets me lie inquires after my health.--New York Man. FIRST Kansas Woman--I didn't see you down at the caucus last night." Seoond Kansas Woman--No, couldn't get away. John wasn't feeling well, and I had to clear off the table and wash the dishes.--Tid-Bits. AN elderly wit called to present Lis congratulations to a new York bank president on the latter's birthday. "Well, my friend," said the wit, "how old are you?" "Seventy-five." "Hum, seventy-five; well I hope you'll rise to par." "MARIA, what did you do with that pie that was left from dinner yester­ day?" "Threw it over the alley fence." "Just like you. Jim Sharkley's two dog3 are dead this morning and he ac­ cuses me of poisoning them."--Brook- lyn Eagle. AT a negro wedding in this city a short time ago when the words "love, honor, and obey" were reached the groom interrupted the preacher and said: "Bead that again, sah; read it wunce mor', so's de lady kin ketch "he full solemnity ob de meanin'. I'se been married befo'."--Griffin {Oa.) Times. A IF some men would only put the same amount of enthusiasm i* to sawing wood that they put into sitting on a plank and watching nineteen men play ball their wives could kindle the kitchen fire every twenty minutes through the twenty-four hours and still have kindlings to spare.--Journal of Education. MRS. YOTTNGBRIDE HONEYMOON (to husband, who is a railroad president)-- And are you sure you • will always, al­ ways love me more than you will any one else ? Mr. Honeymoon (absently) --Impossible to say. You see, it is very doubtful whether the Inter-state law will allow me to make any discrim­ ination.--Harper's Bazar. OMAHA DRUGGIST--That was a strange blunder in Washington, wasn't it ? Kansas Druggist -- I didn't hoar of it "You didn't? Why, a prominent druggist there killed him­ self by taking a drink of aconite in mistake for whisky." "Well, he ought to have known better than to keep drugs in his stock. They are danger­ ous things."-- Onia ha Wo rid. Copper. Copper is to-day the cheapest article in the commercial world. Tho price is lower than it has ever before been in the history of the arts. Its low piica has induced a wide range of new uses and an enlarged consumption in old channels. The attention of capitalists has been attracted to the comparatively low price of this metal, and it is hardly to be presumed that prices will remain as low for many months longer. The cause of the low price of copper seems to be largely from the mistaken policy of the large copper mining companies in presuming that the best way to keep up old-time dividends is to double the products of their mines. If they could adopt the policy of reducing their pro­ duction, they would soon get a re­ munerative price from what they did mine. Again, notwithstanding the 'ow price of copper, it is a somewhat no­ table fact that the prioe of copper wire, sheet, and bar copper has not fallen in proportion, and the consumers of the various products of copper have not been benefited from this fall in price so much as capitalists who control the copper rolling mills. Appreciating this point, some large Boston capitalists are erect­ ing a fine plant for rolling copper at Lake Superior, and it is to be hoped that the consumers of this valuable me.tal will soon be able to participate in the advantages which low-priced metal affords. An Affecting Scene. An old fellow with a benevolent face sat in the business office of a large wholesale house. A young man en­ tered and asked for employment. "Have you any references?" "No, sir." "Recommendations of any kind?" "No, sir." "Then how do you expect to obtain employment?" "By making a remarkable statement." "What is it?" "I have recently been discharged, but not on acoount of the Interstate law." The old fellow almost upset his desk in springing to his feet, and, throwing his arms about the young man hoarsely whispered: "You shall have a half interest in my business. Thank heaven that you have at last found me."-- Arkansaw Traveler. Do NOT consider everything sible that you 1,'v' J