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ILLINOIS. LCC V|OKA nro-rKAur snmtMcs BY- im WAITCOKB KXL,MT. itnttatel '4kndlJ( bad been t»i Mk, I «w« searredtio aeeye# «f my fellow-man. ,**--sounds like a aattMh .I ao allow. *} , to nx home since childhood --. .. mora 'Own a stranger now 1 • 3 f »y i has wept for two'lfm| ̂ 16^/' at atfitste nailed! ; MI leapt from the platform , • midnight train, ana then-- All thMI know was that smile of hets, And oar babe in my arms again I Pardaa.. Not wholly a •tranaar, WOtTVkr* a wife and childj Baok fRMD a two-yean' sentence-- Bvt t have thought the who e thing tfcrotJS A Mat o( It ouni when the bars swung back And I looked straight np In the blue Of fee nyi t I've a wife and child ; That woman has wept for two long And yet last night she smiled I ?»-• ' MOSES ANGEL, j., % : • * iv/; / ••*>«* OMR P. uuo. §3f, ' CHAPTKR L Any one at all acquainted with Mose Spenoer would have known, by merely Slanting at him, as he walked along be road one morning, that he was ex- oeoth'ngiy angry; and, one who prides himself upon being a shrewd pryer Into an individual's mind, taking up J,)', aaeh thread of motive and tracing it to jo"* > the end, would have declared that Mose »" f - 4 was beset by that consuming and hope- yi' ; lees anger which finds no relief in ^ ^prospective revenge. I am not in- -y dined to think that Mose was directly *§l\ , ^ descended from that Spencer whose "May Queen" Hume declares is never :lMd except by people who look upon "'. |«neh a performance as a duty, for there | /^was not about Mose even the most re- „ mote suggestion of that refinement "which contemplates poetry. In ap- !' - |pearance he was a typical backwoods- , , " 'man, but his extreme harshness of face 4«ould not rest upon this fact for its , - origin, for many of the mildest counte- jV ., %lfl»ces and faces of gentlest expression ?>"' ^ -lare found in places where the pedagogue > ihas made but few tracks. Nobody „<s - j^liked Mose, He took such delight In '̂ cruelty that he would climb a fence jand go through a patch of briars to Pphrow a stone at a harmless dog. As Moee neared a blacksmith's shop, ' v/ where several men were lounging, he U• • ^hesitated upon beholding certain "dev- ' I""' »;fe; m' - then I hay thoaght It w Jsngefi ta» fellers to skylark. Aair," wmaiM Horn, "yo're hone is done shod an* I reckon you moat as well go on home.* Andy grinned, and, whistling camp-meeting tune, mounted his hone and rode away ; and Mose, remaining but a few minutes longer; sullenly strode toward home. When he reaehod that place--a desolate log-eabin with two tumble-down rooms, he opened the door with a violent shove and passed into the room which he used as a sort of cobblershop. He sat down on a bench, took up an old boot and had begun to examine it, when an old woman en tered. "Mr. Spencer, don't you want to see the baby?" she asked. ' "Get outen here." v ^ "Miz Spenoer 'lowed that you---*' "Get outen here I tell you." "My conscience alive, man, won't you let a person talk ? You want to under­ stand that you are orderin' yore betters around when you order me. Ef you wuz a little blacker than you air, w'y I've seed the time I could buy an' sell you three times a day. You ought to be ashamed o' yourse'f, you great big lubberly, good-'fur-nuthin' thing, to get mad at that po' little baby, jest like she could he'p bein' a girl; an' ef I wuz in your place I'd be afeerd the Lawd would strike me down, an' it wouldn't be no mo' than right, nuther. Tore wife wants to see you a minit." "I don't want to see her nur you nuther. Git out, "Now, Mr. Spencer, if yon will be a fool, let me advise you not to be sich a hard-headed one.- Go on in thar a minit, please. Ef you don't. 111 vow an' declar' that 111 trudge right off home an' let you get somebody else to stay here.* Wall, then," exclaimed Spencer, throwing the boot aside and getting up, "ef nuthin' else will do I will go in, but I want it understood right now that I won't have nuthin' to do with that dis- app'intin' critter." When he entered the room he found his wife weeping bitterly. "Mose," she said, "fur the Lawd's sake don't stay mad this 'ere way. I know you wanted a boy but it couldn't be he'ped. Look at the po' little--" He turned away, and slammed the door as he went out. H oe powerful fair jniah fellows" as if he dreaded some Jthing, but when one of them yelled at "* 3rim, he shrugged his shoulders and ap- jjjproached them. "We've hearn all about it," said 'Sam Stoveall. "Hearn it this mornin'." "Yes," Andrew Horn joined in, "an' I we're all mighty sorry fur you." "I want you fellers to shet up," Mose replied, lifting up the tail of his long ' - ' H jeans ooat and seating himself on a stump. "The infernal luck is enough without sich talk." "W'y what'B the matter, Mose?" the' blacksmith asked. "I ain't heard ! nothing" ^ "Gal borned at my house last night," Mose answered. > "Wall, now, that ain't nothin' to cripple a man, is it? Thar's been a gal borned at my house ever* year from -*• about as fur back as I keen recolleck, > it 'peers to me, an' I ain't seed nobody A limpin' round on that account. W'y, confound yore 'onery picture, man, you oughter be glad that it is a gaL. fioys don't do nothin' bat cause trouble, no how." "That's all right," Mose rejoined, , '"but I wanted a boy, an' this gal bus'ness makes me as mad as a hornet. I had jest sot my heart on a boy--had prayed fur one, an' dreamed that it would be a boy, an' now, confound it, > a miserable little ole gal--a common ;ever' day gal comes to take his place, j tellers, it makes me mad, thar ain't no Settin' round that fack. It makes me so mad that I have dun tuck a oath -| that I'll never have nothin' to do with the young one. I wouldn't kereef <1 she'd die befo' I git home." ?§ "Mose, fur the Lawd's sake, don't J*alk thater way," said the blacksmith. a sin an' a shame fur a man to 13>press hisse'f thater way agin his own 3flesh an* blood." A "I've don said it an' F1I stick to it," | Mose replied. "I bl'eve that the Lawd ̂sent that gal jest because He's got a ispite agin me." K „ "I've got a little gal at my house an' .1 wouldn't take a heap o' no man's s money fur her," Sam Stoveall re- Martred. "She's jest nachnlly the ^fillltiest^ thing I ever seed, an' til be •dinged if I'd give her for ever' boy on the place." "You fellers might talk thiser way •till--till what's his name blows his trumpet, an' it wouldn't change my mind none," Mose replied. "An* ef #he lives I'm goin' to show her that «he found her way inter the wrong house." "A man that'll talk thater way is a blamed tool!" exclaimed Andrew Horn, i "Be kinder keerful, Andy," Mose re­ plied. "liicolleck that I ain't took no i -oath to put up with ever'thing that a ieller is a mind to say to me." , "I don't kere whut you've done nor ^ whut you hain't done, Mose Spencer, but III jest l'arn you you kain't talk: •titter way whar I am without Q&din' out whut I think of you." i "It ain't none o' yore bus'ness whut I; say about my own affairs." "It mout not be in the sight o'the law," Horn rejoined, "but it is in the feight o' the Lawd, an' as I rid a circuit two seasons, you must know that I've fot more respeck fur the Lawd than I ave fur any law our legislature ken make." "It dou't i«ake no difference if you .nave rid a "dozen circuits, you ain't got lw right to meddle with me." "Don't git ashy, boys; don't git Sshv,' said the blacksmith. "Wall, let him tend to his own biz- no®®'" rejoined Mose. He's got no right to oome around givin' me p'i-4t- ers. even if he did ride A circuit, .eould 'a' rid a circuit, too, ef I'd .Wanted to." " . T14!8 a ""Kkty fine circuit yon could >«de," rejoined Horn. "W'y, won mout, ®ry for ten years to get reliprion an even *h«i the farsfc thing you'd know old «»atan -would nab you jest the same as <lf you.badn fc prayed a pr'ar." J don t low: no ma» to talk , to me <^%um wsy» exclaimed Mose, Bprinciiij to hMifeet. "I've got enough trouble »an disapp wtment on my mind with- rtmt being insulted." "Ketch yon jest the same as if you jlhadn't prayed a single pra'r," Horn rw jwated. Moses sprang forward, but the pow­ erful blacksmith seized him and shoved him back. "Don't let us have no sky ^arldn'/Jiose," said he. "Some fellers «kylarkin' in this neighbor- •T"; m - CHAPTER N. With stubborn cruelty Mose had in­ sisted upon naming the child "Diser- p'intment," which was in time short­ ened to Diser. She was a remarkably beautiful child, with long yellow hair and with eyes which looked up with charming inquisitiveness. Until she was two years of age her father took not the slightest notice of her; and, once when he had frowningly turned away from her outstretched arms, Mrs. Spencer said: "Mose how ken you do thai ?" "Don't talk to me thater way, Sua You know well enough that I don't want nothin' to do with her." Diser grew more beautiful as the years came. One day, when the child was about four years old, Mrs. Spencer, upon returning home from a visit to a neighbor, saw her husband, with Diser on his back, trotting around the house. "What on earth has happened!" the delighted woman exclaimed. Mose, easing the child to the ground and then taking her into his arms, re­ plied : "I hil out like a fool, Sue, but I jest nachully had to come to taw. She's the sweetest human I ever seed." "An' I ain't afeerd o' him, mamma," the little girl cried. "Sect," putting her arms around his neck. "He ain't mad at me any more, air you, papa?" "Mad at you! W'y, ef a man wuz to say I wuz mad at you I'd hit him then an' thar." j " 'Cause I couldn't he'p bein' a gal, eould I?" <- "No, honey, an' I am glad you air a gaL I didn* think it wuz possible fur me to love anybody as much as I do you." "An' mamma too?" "Yes, an' her too." The poor, overworked woman seemed younger after this, and the songs which she sang at evening were of more cheer­ ful tune. Every one noticed the change in Moss's chaiacter, and neighbors who had, during many years, avoided his society, now often called upon him at evening and discussed the scripture while the whippoorwills, among the branches of the hickory trees, tuned their weird pipes. The river being so low that the boats could not run, Mose was commissioned to haul a wagon load of flour from a small town in an adjoining State to the neighborhood in which he lived. It would require several days to make,the trip, and the idea of such a journey gave great anxiety to little Diser. "1 will bring you a great big doll," said Mose. "Will you?" clapping her hands. "Yes, a great big one." "An' not made outen rags, either?" "No; made outen--outen--blast me, honey, but 1 know they ain't made outen rags. I won't be gone but fo' days, an' then, my gracious, what a doll! whoopee, what a doll!" The buying of a whole wagon load of flour was a mammoth transaction in hich Mose felt a keen pride, and he stood about the door of the ware-house giving himself the airs of a great spec­ ulator ; but his greatest pleasure was experienced when he purchased Diser's doll. "Jest wrap that up keerful as you ken an,' put it in some sort o' box," he said to the storekeeper. "For your little girl, I reckon," the tradesman remarked. "You hit it squar, sir; you hit it per­ fectly squar. You've hearn o' angels, I reckon?" "Oh, yes." "Wall, she's one, whether thar ever wuz any other ur not She found me one o' the meanest an' sininest men in the world, but ef she hain't come mighty nigh makin' a sort o' saint outen me 111 be slathered and slammed." "You love her agood deal, no doubt," said the tradesman, putting the doll into a box. "Look here," said Mose, "ef you didn't £eer to be a putty good sort o' feller I'd pull out your nose longi enough to tie in a knot for sayin' that II love her a good deal. W'y, sirv it's all I can do to keep from drappin' down on my knees an' worshipin' her." "Got any boys?" "No, an' don't want none. All I want is little Diser." "That her name?" "Yes." "Sort of a curious name, ain't it?" "Wall, yes, I rekon it is to anybody that ain't used to it To tell you the H*rt$whaa is hankarin this time." When within abouttenmileaof home Mose stopped at the crossroads store to get a drink of water. The sun had &st gone down behind the distant uff on the river. When he stepped into the store a loud shont greeted mm, and Andy Horn, Sam Stoveall, and the blacksmith pressed forward and con­ gratulated him upon the sucoese of his great journey. "Tell us all about it, MOM, said the blacksmith." "I would, boys; I'd tell you ever'­ thing, but the fack is I'm 'putty nigh dead to git home. Wy, it 'peers like I ain't seed Diser an' my wife sence the drouth. You jest oughter see a doll that I've fotched that chile." "Wall, fetch it in an' let us see it," said Andy Horn. "No, not now. I wouldn't unwrap it fur pay. I want Diser to see what good keer I've tuck o' it. Any o' you been out my way lately ?" "No, I "bleeve not,* Sam Stoveall replied. "Everybody is been busy makin' crops-ties fur the railroad that they say is oomin' through here sum- mers." Wall, then, fellers, I must shove on. Good evenin*." He did not deliver the flour, bat hurried home, musing that he would go over to the store after he had witnessed Diser's joy upon beholding the doll. "Helloa, what's this hoss doin' tied here ?" he said when he drove up to the gate. Without waiting to unhitch his horses he seized the box containing the doll and hurried to the house. His wife met him with a sob, and before he could recover from his astonishment, the neighborhood physician stepped for­ ward and said: "Mr. Spencer, there is no hope for your beautiful little girL She is dy­ ing." "My God! Dock, you don't mean--" He caught sight of the child lying on a bed in a corner of the room, and rush­ ing forward he dropped on his knees at the bedside. "Little angel! little angel! papa has brought your doll. Little angel--my God, she don't know me! Diser--little angel--speak to me, won't you? You mustn't leave papa, little preoious. He can't live without you. Get away, all of you! Let me take her." He took her in his arms. She looked np and said: "You ain't mad at me, air you ?" "Oh, my God, sweet angel, don't say that! Diser, Diser--merciful Lawd, doctor, she is chokin'!" He put her upon the bed, and in frenzy fell npon the floor and tore his hair. "It is all over," said the doctor. The whippoorwills among the branches of the hickory trees tuned their weird pipes.--Arkansaw Trav­ eler, PUB|JC anr. Last of the Ale-Tasters. The late Richard Taylor, of Bacup (the ale-taster of Rossendale), may with propriety be described as "the last of the ale-tasters," says a writer in Notes and Queries. His proper call­ ing was that of a spindle-maker, hence his nickname "Spindle Dick;" and the curious will find allusions to him in the "History of Bossendale." He was a fellow of infinite humor, and performed his duties to his lord and halmot jury as if to the manner born, as the follow­ ing extract from one of his annual re­ ports will testify: "The appointment which I hold is a ' very ancient one, dating, as you are aware, from the time of the good King Alfred, when the jury at the court leet appointed their head-boroughs, tithing men, bursholder, and ale-taster, which appointments were again regulated at the time of King Edward III., and through neglect this important oilioe to a beer-imbibing population ought not to be suffered to fall into disrepute or oblivion. To some Bossendale men, indeed, beer, is meat, drink, and wash­ ing ; do away with the office of ale- taster, an inferior quality of the bever­ age may be sold, and the consequent waste of tissue would be awful to con­ template. In my district there are fifty-five licensed public houses and sixty-five beer houses. The quality of beer retailed at these houses is gener­ ally good and calculated to prevent the deterioration of tissue, and I do not de­ tect any signs of adulteration." When discharging his high functions Dick carried in his coat-pocket a pewter gill measure of peculiar old-world shape, with a turned ebony-wood handle in the form of a cross that projected straight from the middle of the side. This symbol of his office was secured by a leather thong about half a yard in length, one end being round the handle, the other through a button-hole in his coat. As might be expected, he was occasionally summoned before the bench on the charge of being drunk and incapable; to this he alluded in his re­ port : "I have even been dragged be­ fore a subordinate court and fined 5 shillings and costs while fulfilling the duties of my office." In a wide and populous district the duties, when con­ scientiously performed, were mort than mortal Btomach could bear un­ harmed; in the words of the good ale conner, "deterioration of tissue" was certain to ensue. The last of the ale- tasters died a martyr to duty on Octo­ ber 10, 1876. truth, I wanted a boy so bad that whdn she wuz born I named her Disero'inV* ment. Arter I fell in love with her-- and that wa'n't until she was a good big --I wanted to change ,it, but she tuck on st> that I lowed that I'd better A. Rumpus Among the Jewelry. Scene: A jewelry store--Time: Midnight. The stillness is suddenly broken by a music box striking up a lively waltz. A couple of bronze statues on a shelf, inspired by the music, commenced to waltz. & Don't tread on my corn," cried a gilded Ceres, drawing away her horn of plenty, provoking a retort from one of the dancers to the effect that they had had plenty of that horn. "Can't we ring in?" shoats a box of finger ornaments, all together. A Louis Quartorze clock on a shelf holds its hands together in front of its face to hide its blushes and cries "Watch!" A watch responds that if it was fixed to strike like the clock is he would soon stop such goings on. "Hush that racket," comes from a delicate piece of jewelry in a case, "it makes my ear­ ring." "Its candleons, so it is," cried a golden candlestick, "and the propri­ etor ought to be infermed of it." "Broach the subject to him then," said a Maud S scarf pin in the form of a hort-e-slioe. "Won't somebody take that music box and locket?" cried a watch seaL "Wish a burglar would come in and goblet," snapped a bright- eyed diamond that was playing solitaire in a velvet case. "Or caster into the cellar" put in a necklfice. "Pitcher into the alley," snapped a gold collar button. Just before coming to the wind-up the music box ran down, the waltz con­ cluded and silence resumed oommand. --Texa« Si/tings. naueipoou nt Tyler visited Boston 0ntftk6l7«h #June, 1843, a large del- 4gftfton of Mitts of New England, es­ corted by th# New York LigEt Guard, came on. The Albany Burgess Corps was also present with lull ranks. The military escort was the First Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, then commanded by CoL George Tyler Bigelow, and the City Grays, Capt. Newell A. Thompson, was detailed as especial escort of the invited guests from the State House to the dinner in Faneuil HalL Three days afterwards, Hngh S. te- gare, who succeeded Mr. Webster as Seoretary of State, died in Boston at the residence of his friend George Ticknor, and was buried at Mount Au­ burn. He was perhaps one of the best scholars of the age, and certainly one of the very best in our country. The wonderful extent and accuracy of his reading, the strength of his memory, his great natural capacity and talents, had enabled him to amass a store of learning and knowledge very seldom the acquisition of one man. John Barney, who was a son of Com­ modore Barney, represented the Balti­ more District of Maryland in the nine­ teenth Congress, 1825-29, and from that time until his death on the 26th of January, 1857, he was one of the patriarohs of Washington society, mer­ iting his sobriquet "Beau Barney." He must have been over seventy years of age when he died, and to the last was what he had been for more than half a century, the glass of fashion, if not the mold of form. He never affected the society of gentlemen, and whether rid­ ing in his carriage, or walking or sit­ ting, he was sure to be basking in the radiance of "fair woman's smiles." He was uncommonly ugly in his appear­ ance; he was very round-shouldered, probably the stoop of age; his head was but partially covered with dyed hair; his teeth were false, and every vestige of nature about him that was visible was in a state of repair; but his dress was elaborate and dashing to tho last degrees. He was never seen out of doors without a coat or cloak of the latest style, his hands in the finest white kids, from one of which dangled the slender cane of an exquisite. His cravat and vest were always of the most conspicuous colors, and when he was fully made up, with a hat brushed to a gloss on his head or in his hand, and he stepped forth from his dressing- room conquering and to conquer; he might readily have been taken by any one who did not see his face or hear his cracked voice for a young man of twenty, instead of a septuagenarian. He was invited everywhere, of course, for he was a man of considerable re­ finement, was very empress in his man­ ner to ladies, had an inexhaustible fund of agreeable small talk, danced in every set and all night, if his special friends would keep him company; had known every fashionable star, male or female, that had been in the ascendant for fifty years; had been in habits of so- oial intercourse with the most promi­ nent public men to be found in Wash­ ington society for the same period, and by making it his constant study, knew better than most men how to please ladies of all ages, and especially the young. The pleasure which he found in this kind of life, and the prudence which he exercised in the indulgence of it, undoubtedly contributed to his length of days, and to that unusual elasticity of spirits which made him one of the marvels at our time. With the advanoe of years Barney became irritable, especially in his in­ tercourse with men, which compelled him to one or two bloodless appeals to the code of honor. One of these af­ fairs occurred with Sartiges, the French Minister, shortly after that functionary arrived in this country. It was one of Sartiges' favorite amuse­ ments of a Sunday morning to shoot rats from the window of his rooms at the hotel at which he was staying in Washington, to the extreme annoyance of Mr. Barney, who was staying at the same house. The latter gentleman's remonstrances did not produce the de­ sired effect upon the sporting propensi­ ties of the French Minister, who felt that he could better afford to quarrel with Barney than to cease quarreling with the rats. During the irritation produced by this disregard of his com­ fort on the part of Sartiges, the latter gentleman entered a club in Baltimore, of which Barney was an officer, with a cigar in his mouth, and even went into the drawing-room without removing it. Barney observed it, and remarked that no gentleman would enter a drawing- room with a cigar in his mouth. This led to a somewhat offensive reply, and a challenge from Barney was the conse­ quence. Sartiges declined to fight him, by advice of Barney's friends as well as his own, on the ground that his eccentricities were such as to exempt him from some of the responsibilities of his position. The consequence was that Barney took an appeal to the pub- lie through the press, and thus the matter ended. About the same time Barney got into a difficulty with Floyd Rogers, of Baltimore, and challenged him, for some imaginary affront. The challenge was declined, for the same reason as the one previously sent to Sartiges. Causes of Sudden Deaths. The number of sadden deaths is large, perhaps increasingly so, though the popular impression may be false, since the daily press and the telegraph have made a neighborhood of the whole land. One souree of sudden deaths is acci­ dents, bat many events pass under the head of accidents which might have been foreseen and guarded against. Americans, particularly, are apt to take great risks; for example, in their eat­ ing, their clothing, their building, in crossing railway tracks, and in many other ways. How careless we are! No staging need ever fall, and it would not if proper care were taken in the choice of material and in construction. Think of the frightful list of deaths resulting from the use of oil poured upon a lighted fire to cause it to kindle more quickly! With many other causes of sudden death our own personal ills seem at first sight to have almost nothing to do. There may be a fatal break in the physical machinery at a point where weakness has not been suspected. The heart, perhaps, becomes unnaturally enlarged, or its tough, muscular fiber turns to fat, end suddenly there is a mortal rupture. Or the enfeebled heart fails to send blood to the brain, and the man drops dead in the street, or at his business, or, more fortunately, perhaps, in the midst of his family. In other cases there may be a de­ generation of the cerebral artery, and high living, or a glass of wine, or an exoitement of passion, may arouse the (ISP! arterial wptls to withstand. These wall* gm w*y at one or more points, tho outpoured Uood presses against the nerve centers, and Was is out off the neoessary simply of nerve force to vital organs. The man falls uncon­ scious, and within a few days dies. We have not space to speak of other causes somewhat similar, but in most of them the weakness of the link at which the chain breaks is due to over­ exertion, to too continuous brain work, to excesses in eating and drinking, to passion, to worry. The weak spot being ascertained, the fatal result may be prevented for years, perhaps in­ definitely, by a carefully-regulated life. 'nutft'8 Companion. What Shall We Eatl This is the age of adulteration. Ar­ ticles of food in particular are tampered with in a most heart-rending, or rather Btomach-rending, manner. The modes of adulterating batter, for instance, are so numerous that there is reason to believe that the only honest butter is the goat. In these olemargarine days, no one knows on which side the bread is buttered. Sugar is shamefully adulterated. Occasionally sugar goes np BO high as to produce a slight increase in the price of sand. Doubtless some of our readers have heard or read of milk being adulterated. Not long since a milkman drank some of his own milk, and according to the autopsy his death was caused by water on the brain. There are several modes of deceiving the public with coffee. One is to sub­ stitute peas. There are a great many p's in pepper, but not half as many as there are in cofl'ee. Pure Italian olive oil consumed in the United States is manufactured in Chicago, the essential ingredients be­ ing lard, which, it is fair to presume, has been previously adulterated. Under the circumstances we are con­ strained to believe that there is some truth in the following beautiful Arabian legend: *UE WISE FLY. Once upon a time several flies dew into a kitchen through a window. They were looking for something nice to eat, but they were not particular. They were willing to put up with anything they could find. The first fly took a sip at some dough which the cook had left in the pan. It tasted very nice, but in a short time the insect was racked with a dreadful pain in his abdomen, and in a short time he breathed bis last in great agony. His bowels could not stand the alum with which the flour had been carefully adulterated. , The second fly took a sip at some coffee dregs, and immediately his head began to swim, and he experienced a sensation of nausea. After a few fear­ ful contortions, the Ifly held up his legs, and was relieved from his sufferings by death. Oxido of iron, with which the coffee was adulterated, was more than the fly constitution could stand. The third fly tried the syrup and dropped dead into the pitcher. Un­ less a fly is provided with Bessemer steel bowels he should never inhale sulphuric acid. It's not healthy. The fourth fly had a massive, sixty- five-ounce brain. He had studied the nature of his fellow-insect, man, and was up to his. tricks and devices. Notic­ ing a box of Rough on Flies, which was labeled "Poison," he flew gavly to it, and fed voraciously on its contents. The fly never experienced evil effects, for like everything else, the fly poison was adulterated. -- Texas Sifting u* > Genius. When biological science is advanced enough for us to be able to put into definite form present iddas we shall probably be able to clear up the ob­ scure and much-contested distinction between talent and genius. All will agree, one supposes, that wide versa­ tility consorts much more naturally with what we commonly mark off as talent than with original genius. And the reason of this may, perhaps, be dimly descried in the considerations here brought forward. For talent, when distinguished from genius, seems to mean superior ability to master ideas and to develop new applications of them. And it is evident that this kind of capability is not necessarily limited in its scope. Indeed, it would appear rather to exclude the idea of any unique excellence of aptitude in a particular region of activity. And it certainly does exclude an all-absorbing interest in some one circle of ideas. Hence the superior grades of talent appear as re­ markable instances of versatility. Diderot, Lessing, bettor still. Macaulay may be said to represent talent raised to its highest power. And, if so, one may say that talent has for its physical substratum a splendid average brain-- average, that is, in the general equality or indifference of its manifold func­ tions, though greatly raised above the average in point of strength. And do we not seem here to approach a physical explanation of the fact that while talent, as exalted common sense, is something normal and healthy, genius apt to go off into abnormal one- sidedness ?--Gentleman's Magazine. How Fatigae Operate* After a study of some years, Prof. Mosso, of Turin, finds that when fatigue is Carried beyond the moderate stage, at which it is decidedly benefi­ cial, it subjects the blood to a decom­ posing process through the infiltration into it of substances which act as poisons, and which, when injected into the circulation of healthy animals, in­ duce uneasiness and all the signs of excessive exhaustion. When within the resisting power of the subject, fatigue has its pleasures and even joys, these being the expression of the organic consciousness that bodily loss of tissue is being balanced by reconstruction. Mosso's experiments were performed on Italian soldiers, and they proved, among the other results, that the stature and power of the modern war­ rior are fully equal to those of the an­ cient Roman. Unearthing Scorched Toys. Every evening at dusk from 500 to 1,000 children collect on Broadway, in front of the ruHs of P. J. Keary & Bros.' toy house 11 343, two doors above Worth street. Th > building was burned on July 2. Workmen are digging out the debris, and the children gather there to secure the 1 treasures of young life. Horns, whistles, and all sorts of toys are turned up by the workmen. The children toot the horns, make life weary to the passers-by with hundreds of whistles, and it is along toward mid­ night before they scamper off to their homes in the side streets.--New York Sun. ' ' LET a MAN give the reins to his im­ pulses and passions, and from that mo­ ment he yields up his moral freedom. torn* cuthieiM M and pntMy, one or two Meks being nsed fan the purpose. They are oovered with satin, plush, velvet, or any piece of fancy material, tied around the neck of the sack with • ribbon and bow. As to the ornamentation,, any mode can be followed. A gay-looking, but decidedly handsome one is of dee]) crimson plush, the under part or back being of olive green plush. The medallion which ornaments the front is of orim- son satin worked in arasene, the neck is dark-green plush, and the ribbon strings and bows match it in color. A fanciful shape for a hassock is the "cracker," but it answers its purpose quite as well as many others, and is in­ deed far preferable to the small old- fashioned round cnes that toppled over -ftt the slightest touch. The foundation is, of course, thoroughly firm, and the shape is rather too much flattened to be of the true cracker type. It is of plush, with full- ends, which are lined with old gold satin; the medallion of satin almost covers the top. The de­ sign is Byzantine, done entirely in gold filoselle outlined with gold ; both ends are tied with cord finished off with a number of loops. Flour tubB covered with plush have their hoops and handles uncovered; this gives the impression that the article is not completed, but that does not matter so long as the idea is new. Double nightdress sachets are in vogne. One corner is turned back, which allows of the embroidering of the monogram of a contrasting colored lining. A beautiful cushion is made of .plush, and it deserves more than pass­ ing notice. One corner of the plush covering is fastened back with a simu­ lated pin. Both this corner of plush and the corner of the cushion beneath are covered with cream satin. On the former is a bunch of daffodils, and some of the blossoms fall on the latter, which is still further ornamented with lattice work in soft shades of green fli- oselle. ^ The idea is extremely artistic, the lattice work making the cushion corner to retire, as it were, while the pure cream satin becomes more pro­ nounced by the gently accentuated con­ trast. A description of fancy work would be hardly complete without the mention of some screens, which seem to be almost as indis­ pensable pieces of furniture as tables and chairs, so generally are they used. One deserving a place in the daintiest of boudoirs is a masterpiece of art work. To describe it minutely wouhl take up too much space, and the mere indication of its merits must suf­ fice. The screen is threefold, and rather small. Each fold is divided into panels, which are covered with deli­ cately tinted blue and cream satin, a deep gold-colored band separating the lower panels. The center design is composed of a group of three swans exquisitely rendered- on the water, sur­ rounded by rushes. The side folds are devoted to trophies, containing fruits and flowers and further elaborated with entwined cornucopias and foliage. On the upper panels musical instruments are represented, and the lower ones grapes and foliage appear. The frame is of ebonized carved wood. The per- feot harmony, not only in coloring, but in proportion and form also, combined to create a most noteworthy instance of what can be accomplished by de­ signers and embroiderers imbued'with true artistic feeling.--Houseiv ife. Demons Everywhere. From tho Tyrol, from Switzerland, from Germany or from Brittany, come Well-ascertained accounts of the popu­ lar belief in certain wild spirits of the wood, who are painted in all the most frightful shapes the imagination can suggest and are characterized bytheir de­ light in every possible form of malev­ olence. They kidnap and devour children, bewitch the cattle, and lead men to lose their way in the forest. They can assume any size, from the most diminutive to the most gigantio; nor is any form of bird or beast an im­ possible impersonation of them. Tho Skongman, the forest spirit of Sweden, is like a man, but tall as the highest tree; he decoys men into the wood, and, when they have hopelessly lost their way and begin to weep for fear, leaves them with mocking laughter. The conception is well-nigh identical with that found among the natives of the forest of Brazil, showing with what uniformity similar conditions produce similar effects on the human mind. But the Russian spirits Ljeschi (from a Polish word for wood) are even more significant; for not only are the usual diabolical attributes assigned to them, such as the leading of men astray, or the sending to them of sickness, bat also the conventional diabolical feat­ ures. Their bodies are after tho ho- man pattern, but they have the ears and horns of goats, their feet are cloven and their fingers end in claws. The Russian wood spirit is in fact the devil of mediaeval imagination and nothing else--a feat which strongly supports the inference that it is from the wood and from the wind rustling over the tree tops that the idea of the super­ natural agency of devils first took pos­ session of the imagination of mankind. It is in no way inconsistent with|the theory that besides devils of the forest there are those of the air and water. The conception is one which would have met with no barrier to the exten­ sion of its dominions, and the devil of the tree or forest would from the first be closely associated with, if at all dis­ tinguished from, the spirit that moved in the trees, and was powerful enough to overturn them. In this way the wild spirits of the woods would pass insensibly into those spirits of the air which our ancestors identified with the Wild Huntsman, and which English Kasants still often hear when they ten to the passage of the Seven Whistlers.--Gentleman's Magazine. No More Rhyme Than Reason. God bless the kickers! the dear old kickers--God bless them, every onei For they'll kick when you're sober and in for work and kick when you're in for fun! They'll buck at improve­ ments in real estate--theyll buck at booming the town--and at everything that'll work for good, some kickers will frown a frown 1 If this thing or that Is thought to be good some other, they 11 say, will be better; and if one should write them up as a "mass" they'd knock off that superfluous letter! When these self-same kickers arrive at the gates--- the pearly gates of Heaven--they'll kick if offered a nice small crown and pick out a big number 'leven. On earth, in Heaven, at home, on tho street, there are men who are bound to kick; until, we declare, there's no peaoo anywhere--'tis enough to make a man sick! So out on those kickers, those chronic old kiokers--that blight that is thrust on a town--and when they kick With their mulish ways--for heaven's sake, frown them down 1--Brule (Dak.) Index. ZEAL without judgment is like gin* powder in the hands of a ohild. I than poverty * ? between womon art m«ip formalities. They excite men's envy* nevertheless. A WOMAN looks beneath the bed for# man. A man goes out between the act* to look lot him. PRIDE is stronger When they are associated, the Tatter always kept out of sight. "THERE goes the champion LIAL weight" "That so? He don't lot much like a fighter." "He isn't: he's coal dealer." "WHO is that pretty girl you walkei home from church with last Sunday W,> "Oh, she sings in the choir." "A>^ yes, I see--a chants acquaintance." THE doleful long of every drone f "i Whose chujce has left him *11 too aoon, * Is whined in dreary minor tone « _And mostly called inopportune. --Texa* Si/tings. _ IT was doubtless the briefless bat*', rister who wrote the hymn beginning:" "Just as I am without one Plea." --Texas Sifting s. J ACK--W hat! Are you smoking cigarettes? Harry--Yes, dash it alU Cora refused my offer of marriage last night, and I don't care what beoomeUr of me.--Tid-BiU. THE man who can preserve his dig** nity after his hat has been blown off and crushed under the wheels of a pass­ ing vehicle, is eligible for member"'uy in the Concord School of Philosophy. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE has nev^f been sorry that she wrote "Uncle Tom'! Cabin," from which we infer that shif has never seen it played by any port* able theatrical company."-- Detroit Tribune. • LIFE is short, and women are man|C Most men have not time for morn than a superficial examination of each" one of their fair friends, and to her wh® prowds her best goods into the show­ case is awarded the highest prize.->> Hebrew Standard. REPORTER (interviewing rich man) You began life barefooted, and workc for a dollar a week, I believe? "No, Bir, I didn't." "Well, that will have go in. anyway. They all do it, and we should make an exception in you case, our readers would complain." . THE editor of a London journal, whir has doubtless been reading the Chicago papers, prints the following under thl* head of "Foreign Agricultural Items:" "Inconsequence of the drouth it il thought that the St. Louis hay cro|> , will be a failure." --- Arkansaw Traveler. AN exchange says "if 32,000,000 peo* ' pie should clasp hands, they coul& reach round the globe." May be so; but we shall not engage in the exper$> meut of clasping hands, for somebody would be sure to steal our diamr adp and pick our pockets.--Newman Indfr"' pendent. MAMMA (to little Joy, ngod 4, who Wants to stay in bed)--Come, dearie^ it is time now to get up. Don't yo§ hear that robin outside your window®' He says, "Get up, get up, get up no\^'; got up quick." Joy (listening thought­ fully)--Yes, I hear him; but he says ifc to his own children. • / LOVERS are prone to self-depreciation. Said he, tenderly, as they sat lookinsr at the stars: "I1 do not understand what you can see in me that you love me?" "That's what everybody says," gurgled the ingenuous maiden. Then the silence became eo deep that you could hear the stars twinkling.--Bos­ ton Courier. DURING the performance at the re­ opening of the Eden Theater, Brussels, the whole of the papering o|r; the ceiling fell down iu one pieces probably on account of the heat, ana covered all the occupants of the stall* and pit. The tumult that ensued under this paper blanket beggars description. --L'lndependance. A MAN at Plainfield desired to leave his traveling bag and overcoat while hi. walked to a place five miles distanC He put them in a field, unprotected* from thieves except by the sign: "Small* pox--Beware!" and when he returned they were there in the field. But were twenty feet under ground, burk by health officers.--Exchange. i ELKTON claims to have a man 114 years old. He walks to town every' election day and votes the straight Democratic ticket. He also walks i|f about once a month and inquired when they are going to hold anotheft' election, or if they can't have a special! election. It is also reported that ha recently took a son of his, aged 94 across his knee and administered a sound rebuke. The son says he'll wait till he's a little older before he tackles his father again. It seems the bojg went in swimming when his father haj(|. told him not to.--Dakota Bell. Our Ain Countree. The boodlers came down like a wolf on the fold, And they scooped in tbjfi silver and greenbacks and gold; From the town on the lake to the town by tho sea, They raked in the boodle from A. unto Z. The people were stupid and silly and green; And the boodlers the cheekiest thieves ever seen; in the street, in tha • office, by night and by day, They grabbed what they wanted and took it away. They laughed when the newspapers gave them a blast, And they winked in the face of the judge as he passed; For they knew, while this land should be peopled with men, That boodlers who'd boodled would boodle again. People put them in prison, but then, all the same, Elected new boodlers to keep up-the game; From Tweed to Mo- Garigle--who but believes It's the fate of the land to be governed by thieves? Pickpockets and gamblers, thieveaL drunkards, and toughs, Ex-convicts ana sluggers, bartenders and rough^ Forgers, fences, and liars, and confidence men We've elected to office again and again. And we'll do it again; well let peoplp see There's a chance for the thief in tha, land of the free; Long live Sainf Barabbas! A pledge let us borrow--- To the health of good Sodom and righteous Gomorrah.--Burdette, in Brooklyn Eagle. Unruly Japanese Harangners. Toung men clad in the garments formerly worn by students have been numerous in the streets of Osaka, Japan, lately. They lecture in out-of- the-way corners, and even in crowded streets when no constable is at hand, upon political subjects, and frequently urge the doctrine that "official salaries are the life blood of the people."-- Chi­ cago News. The Dimensions of the Earth* The dimensions of the earth (£r» a§ stated in the following table: Diameter at the poles.... Diameter, mean Diameter at the Equator Difference of the diamwlw at poles and Equator * Flattened at each pole Circumference round the poles.... Oiroomferenoe, mean Ciroumferenoe round the Bqnator..... i 1 izjl y •'