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^ * * * r ? 1 -p-w v" ysq •<•%* ^'•'r-fr nmmgin ii ai , * »'" k . i - » ~ ^V' ,v •*«t|' « fiiA j* < -•». >;>), * ' *«•«<••• v jj tf , i ' .,-" t f ' ( f t , , • •,. * 1 . ||jg||||gjj|j|j|j||g||gjfT|frHgjjWlggj|g^^ i " 1 n!tf tC^'TSC :i^r:„-iafcSEsf ;•»,-. » *>.* <-* s* J . I. VM tjLYHK, Editor and Publish*. MoHENRY, ILLINOIS. WABMIKG TO COUNTY FAIR OBATOBS BT 6» W. POM. ' M>«tertad for the county fair, tki uibltKmi " candidate, WfcU< his rival wont a-flshing with a flask he • labeled "l>ftitl" •Upon the sun-tannetl ions of toil my heart with plea«ur» dotes, I k>v« their simple ways," said he, "and venerate their votes." Be arose before tho people, lint their eyea were all agog. In ftranieu expectancy to see the thousand-dol­ lar hog; "My, fellow-countrymen," he said, in accents ?• loud and full-- # #op. stentorian, mighty *o*r oame gram the *j Durham bull. { "flood men from Geebuek County, and brothers one and all--" At this tho champion donkey brayed from out his neighboring stall ; Just then tho horse race was announced, the people scattered wi ie, And a sympathetic Jersey cow looked up at him and sighed. Tiros left in solitude alone he staggered to the rail, A Qow began to taste his coat and masticate its tail. He aeizoii his tailless covering and from the htagehe ran, .. And squandered all his money on 'a three-card xnonte man. .fcoli fate the luckless canclidate had on that . • direful day, ' And next bis rival at the polls bore all his votes away, "We want no man to govern ns," each fanner paid. "I swow. Who'll let himself be all et up by any darned old cow I" > --Detroit Free Press. your money; what did you say was the price ?" "Seventy-five oents for the eggs, fifty for the chicken, and mother calculated her butter was worth forty oents." "Very veil, that makes $3.25; here it is. Stop when you pass next time." "Thank von,ma'am, I will,"said John. Then he drove old Dobbin to the back door, gave the trim colored cook the lady's purchase and had turned about td retrace bis way out of the elegant j "Hello, there! Jim, you got a cork­ screw ? If you have, bring it along." "Hey? What? Yes, I've got a cork­ screw, course. Oh, a bottle of wine! Let me, I will open it for a drink." Pop went the cork. "It's prime," cried Jim, taking a long pull from the bottle, then, handing it to his companion, "try it, Joe." Joe also pronounced it prime, and passed it over to John. Oh, no, I never drink anything grounds, when he heard a series of j stronger than coffee or tea. I'd rather shrieks and saw a carriage whirl into the j not; I don't think mother would like open gate-way tossing from side to side it." HIS FIRST DRINK. BY ABBIE C. M KEEYER. re- witli every lunge of the horse, that was undoubtedly running away. Seated in the carriage was a very young girl. Jolin had merely a glimpse of her white face, when lie leaped from his wagon and ran forward to meet the maddened steed--a pony whose long, shaggy mane tossed in the breeze. As he leaped in the direct way of the pony and carriage he was conscious of his " own danger, as well as of the shrieks of the lady on the veranda* evidently the mothet of the young girl in the carriage. To seize the bits as the pony passed him, to cling to them tenaciously in spite of tho brute's kicks and bites, and finally to subdue him to something like quietness was only the work of a minute. "Leap out, miss," cried John. "This pony's not to be trusted; he has a wicked gleam in his eves." "Oh, my darling! my own precious Lulu are you really safe and unharmed? Oh, you must never, never drive Firefly again." The pony, a strong, powerful little fellow, handsome as a clean-limbed, perfectly-proportioned animal could be, "So you're a l»oy tied to your moth­ er's apron-string, are you?" laughed tho man called Jim. "But wino is nothin' stronger than water. Here, let's have another drink, I'm powerful dry." Two or three more drinks, then Jim stepped behind the wagon a moment and returned the bottle to John, and much to his surprise, it was apparently full as ever. "Take a drink, lad,"said Joe, kindly. "Twon't hurt you a niite. Wine ain't nothin' more than water." Ah, fatal, false words, and .foolish, credulous John. He lifted the flask to his lips and drank heartily, the first time in his life that spirits o'f any kind had passed his lips. "Why, it's strong; much stronger than I supposed it was, but it tastes first-rate." The men nudged each other and laughed, then took another drink themselves, and John also took one. Then they were joined by two or three boon companions, and the wine bottle's contents were soon consumed, but alas, poor John had taken a fair Iras now quiet, and betrayed no sign of | sijare of it, and was drunk for the first CHAPTER L THE NEW HEAD OF THE HOUSE. "Now, John, do be careful ahd member everything." "Yes, mother, I'll do it all right, never fear--just as well as father did when he was here. Haven't I gone on three or four trips with him, and do 1 not know every inch of the way, and all the ins and outs of going to market ? I'll be back by 5 o'clock or sooner." "You are such a boy to send on so long a journey," sighed the mother, "and there's so many things that might happen." "Oh, yes," laughed John, "oldDobbin might walk down a steep bank, or I might meet a highwayman who would rob me of all my money." And with "gee up" to the lazy gray horse and a nod to his mother, John drove out of the barn lot, still smiling to himself over his mother's silly fears. *She thinks I'm her little John still, and quite forgets that I'm 1G, and within a very few inches of six feet: but 'she's the deareet and best mother in the world." He looked back just as he turned the bend in the road and saw in the bright moonlight his mother still standing by the gate, looking after him. The blue calico dress and check apron, which seemed a part almost of the dear matronly figure, was then lost to view, and John urged and scolded old Dobbin into a slow tret. "He's old for his years," sighed his mother, as she began clearing away the breakfast dishes, "but boys are boys, and new things take their eye and sometimes evil things charm them in •pite of all a mother's care, but I ought to be thankful that I have such a boy to fight my battles for me. It isn't every widow that is so blest." In the meantime John waB jogging along cityward, the • old, one-horse spring wagon making as much noise as half a dozen wagons ought, not but what John had given it plenty of grease, bat the old wagon as well as the horse had long since s en their best days. Perhaps I ought to tell you who John Was, and how he looked, b it I rather think I'll let you find out for yourself, and the staid, manly name of John is a first-rate recommendation. John had a good start, he was ten miles on the way when the sun crept up over the hill-tops. "It's five miles further," mused John. Tm beginning to strike the fine coun­ try of Walnut Hills. My! ain't that house on that hill a stunner! I do {'ust wonder how folks feel that live ike that," and John whistled softly and regarded his patched jeans pants and boots that barely held together, ruefully, then he smiled his own cheery •mile and added: "Oh, I don't low they are mnchhtt>- pier than common people, and I rather enjoy the prospect of fight my way, only for dear mother's sake I wish that father had left us in a little easier circumstances; but I ought to be thank­ ful for the dot of a home and old Dob­ bin, here, though it costs a good deal more to keep him than he earns, but never mind, old fellow, the corn and the Oats have never failed yet and we'll not part company until they do. Gee up!" But Dobbin was old and easily tired and only switched his long, gray tail in answer to the summons, and went, if possible, glower than before. "If I had aswitdi you'd catch it," saidTlohn; "we must be in market in *>ne hour. My, what a stunner!" The last exclamation soto vor:e, was directed toward a lady standing in the Open gateway that led to the splendid mansion on the hill he had been ad­ miring. The lady was gazing down the Yoad after a rapidly disappearing car­ riage, and John and old Dobbin was quite beside her before she perceived them. Market wagons and overgrown bovs Were uo unusual sight, yet as Join julled up besjde her, and "inquired, Want any nice new couutrv butter, fresh eggs or p.-ultry, dressed nice . enough for a king!1" The lady smiled, and regarded him with more than a passing glenee. feonietliinpr in tbe musical, yet raanlv tones attracted her, and the face under the old worn hat was worth looking at/ l.- i.('0D},kn0ff. my boy," she replied, kindly, lmt that we do, if they are •ery excellent." Then she gathered up the long trail Of her handsome blue wrapper, and «tep]»ed around to the back part of the wagon. John was lende her at once, forgetting all about his worn suit and shabby boots, bent entirely upon dis­ posing of his articles at a 'good price, «nd he brought them forth proudly; "Here's ten ]>ounds of mother's but­ ter, yellow as gold--a real clover yel­ low. ma'am, and smells of clover, too and a dozen prime chickens, dressed in mother's best style. See, how plump and clean they are! Want anything this morning, ma'am?" . "I believe I will take that largest chicken, and five dozen eggs, and live pounds of your mother's sweet butter, which, true enough, does hint of clo^ tor. Drive around to the baok-door -will take, them in; here is his freakish temper except from his eyes, which looked, as John said, wicked. John glanced at the young girl he had saved from a possible death, and thought her the prettiest lass he had ever beheld in spite of her pallor. She was about twelve or thirteen, a little, dark-eyed gypsy, and, as was easy to see, the pride and hope of that grand home. "I'm not harmed a mite, mamma, don't look so frightened. Firefly scared at a crow that Hew over his head I am glad papa was on the train aud does not know. But who is this--this boy, mamma?" John saw her dark eyes rest upon his threadbare and patched clothing, his immense, coarse, stogy boots, and he blushed, but the lady herself quickly exclaimed: "Oh, you kind, brave boy! how can I thank you ? How can we ever repay you? Won't you accept a reward?" John blushed in indignant pride now, and the lady quickly added: "Just as you please, but you must tell your name and let me send your mother a little present, a mere trifle." "My name is John Strong, and 1 live back on the Miami, in the country not far from Clairville, a small village time in his life; really and truly riot ously drunk. The oth?rs were but lit­ tle the worsa for thoir noontime sport and drinks, but were delighted to see | poor, innocent, country John in such a condition, He willingly followed them out into the street, scarcely knowing whither they led. They lolled about in beer gardens until night; then they sought a vile gambling place, where, in a few minutes, John was fleeced of all his money. But that was not all, nor the worst, by far. There was a violent I quarrel between two of his comrades and a fight. John, Avho always was anx­ ious to take the part of any one op­ pressed, lent a hand, and the next thing he knew one of the men lay dead and bleeding at his feet. Yes, tha poor fellow was really dead, killed by a knife thrust. The inmates of the vile place fled as if pursued by demons, and John, alone, almost sobered now, bent over the prostrate figure and tried to revive him. Thus he was found by the police. Arrested for murder! he, John Strong, the best boy in his neighbor­ hood, the pride and support of his Yes, vou can send mother a present" if wed mother. Caught drunk in a von wish, but T did nnHiimr mnr„ than Biiloori and gambling hell With his you wish, but I did nothing more than *any one might have done, and couldn't accept a reward for such a trifle." Lulu pursed up her pretty red lips and said with a slight scarcasm: "So saving my life is only a trifle." "Oh! no, Miss," stammered John, for the lady had gone in the house, "you know I never meant that, but-- Ah! is this your hostler coming ?" , "Yes. Jim, Firefly ran away with me, and this boy caught him." "He's a savage little fellow, Miss Lulu, and I do hope you'll never ride or drive him again," said the man as he led the pony off toward the stable. The lady now returned bearing a long parcel wrapped in paper. _ "Here it is, John. I am sorry you will accept nothing yourself, but give this to your mother with my love and praise for her big, brave boy." John blushed again, jumped in his own wagon, chirruped to old Dobbin to move along, and with a bashful bow drove out of the yard in the direction of Cincinnati. Now it was not in human nature, at least in boy nature, to resist peeping into that bundle to discover its con­ tents. Imagine his surprise when he found it to be a bottle of icine. CHAPTER II. ' ALONE IN THE CITY. "Of all funny present!" laughed John, "to send mother a bottle of wine. Why, the lady must have imagined her f»sbe an invalid. Won't mother laugh, on, ho!" Ah, John, John, if some good angel had only whispered to you to fling it out in the river, to crack the frail glass against a stone. But no, innocent, simple, country lad that he was, he little imagined what might be hidden in a bottle of wine. The ride through Walnut Hills was most delightful, the grand residences, the lovely country hills, and white, smooth pikes, the romantic drive around Eden Park, all soon were left behind,and the busy, bustling, dirty city was reached. John drove direct to his father's old stand and luckily found room for his i wagon. In less than two hours he had dis posed of all his produce at tip-top prices, and then lie sought out and found the stable .where for the sum of 10 cents he could leave old Dobbin to eat his hay and corn that John had brought with him. Leaving him con­ tentedly crunching the corn, John started out to ;ee the city, for to country eyes unaccustomed * to such sights, the city holds much to charm, and it was a real delight to John to walk its paved streets, wander in its pretty parks, see the grand stores and the big fountain. Jt was noon before John would have believed it possible. Then he remem­ bered that he was hungry ; he stepped ii.t > a near bakery, bought some sand­ wiches, a few cakes, and returned to Dobbin and his wagon to quietly eat his 1'inch. "This wafer is horrid stuff," said John to a rough-looking fellow in a near wa^on. "Yes," said the man, "what's that you got in that bundle? Somethin' ain't it? Come, let's have a pull." "Oh," said John, "that is a bottle of wine a ladv gave me for my mother. No, I couldn't give you any <rf that." "Wine?" said the man, "that ain't no more thau water, only it's better; come, don't be silly, what's your mother want of that? Let's have a drink, anyhow. I feel real faint like; have been sick all day." Jwhn looked at the flushed face and wondered it' the man was going to have a fever. ° "Oh, the wine don't matter, only the lady gave it to me for my mother, but I don't reckon mother would care if I gave you a little, seein's you want it so awful bad." ( "You'll need a corkscrew to open it; got one ?" "No." victim at his feet! The papers were full of it, and in a dazed fashion John tried to realize his horrible condition, his frightful peril. But who i3 this that comes in his low, dark cell and clasps him in her arms and calls him her darling, her own dear, wronged boy, her innocent John ? Oh, mother arms, and mother voice 1 John is aroused at last, the old John, the good John, aroused and frnly con­ scious of at least the last dreadful thing that has happened. --' He bows his tall form, and leaning his head upon her breast, he sobs: "Oh, mother, mother! Dear mother, to have you find me here--and--horri­ ble thought--and awful fact--charged with murder. It's a wonder I don't fall dead at your feet." "Hush! wait till I gdt calmer, then tell me all about it." It was a long time before John could tell, ox she could listen to hear "all about it." "But you didn't kill him?" "No; I am certain of that. I had no knife, even a pocket-knife. I dimly remember of pulling one of the fellows off from the murdered man, and there was a flash of a knife, a cry, but I can­ not tell who held the knife or drove it into the poor fellow's breast." "But we must prove that, John; we must find the real murderer." John shook his head sadly and afc swered: "If we had money we might; but, alas! I fear--I fear I am doomed." CHAPTER IIL "Then Joe Sfmpson, and not John Strong, killed Richard Ferris?" "Yes," desperately. "Why have you been silent so long? Did you not know that this innocent boy might be hung instead of the real murderer?" "I never intended to let it go that fur. I hev been tryin' to get Joe to fly the country, but he's been too sick and he died last night, so I came up at once to confess all. Joe left a written statement besides. Here it is, and the witnesses ain't fur off." Free! the soft spring sir never seemed so sweet to John, the country never looked so beautiful as when he rode back home behind old Dobbin and beside his happy, thankful mother. Hs had been in jail over six months before he was brought to trial. Oh! what a dreadful six months that had been. He had left home a gay, light-hearted boy; he returned a grave, thoughtful man, with a scar upon his mind and heart time never could efface. "The neighbors wont be very friendly, I don't expect," he said sadly. "Prison birds ain't much liked, you know, mother. Shouldn't wonder but they'll all turn their heads. "Oh. no matter about the neighbors, when I have you safe." But John was mistaken. ! Every old- time face glowed with pleasure, for it had long sinoe been given up that the boy was more sinned against than sin­ ning. That night before he sought his hum­ ble couch he stood before his mother and in more serious tones than she had ever heard him utter, he said: "Mother, pet me as you will, love me as you do, and try to call me innocent and wronged, I was much to blame. I was drunk. * How did I get drunk? Why, I drank tho wine myself, nobody caught me and poured it down my throat; it was my own work, and I reaped a terrible harvest; but mother, I learned a lesson that will last me a lifetime. I will never touch wine or strong drink again, so long as I live." "Oh my boy, my darliqg, mother knows you never will, you never could." "1 never could after this, and I want to try to live to atone for what I have done, to make you always happv in the future." * « « • • « Fifteen years later found that John had kept his word, and that he was on the broad road to fortune and fame, and his decided prohibition principles and teachings hel ped him in popular favor, for he never forgot or feared to tell what came of only a bottle of wine. TRIED AS BY BTBE. The court was full, crowded to suffo­ cation almost, on the alert to catch every word of the evidence and get one good look at the young murderer. "How handsome he is," said more than one, "and a mere boy. That must be his mother by his side; how white she is, poor thing. So sad to have such dreadful children." The weary trial had dragged it slow, tedious way for three days, and the evidence against the young prisoner was very strong; every one felt that he would bo convicted, when the Prose- I cuting Attorney arose and said hur- i riedly: "If the Court please, I have a new and very important witness." "Bring him forward." John turned his haggard face, his great dark eves toward the man shuf­ fling slowly forward, and his mother thought he was going to faint, he turned so ghastly white; she heard him whisper "Jim." "Your name?" "James Smith." ° "What do you know about this case-- this murder?" "I was present at the murder." Silence as of the grave filled the large court-room now. John's face flushed slightly, his eyes burned, he j grasped his mother's hand with a fright­ ful grip. She wondered what it all meant. Was John glad or sorry? "1'ousavyou were present at the time of the murder of Richard Ferris. Please stute to the jury all you kno\^ about it." "I was with this boy," pointing to the prisoner, "all the afternoon, me and Joe Simpson. I got his wine bottle that he said was for his mother and doctored it." "Explain your meaning about 'doc­ tored.' " "I put about a pint of good whisky ih it, without the boy snspecting it." "Yes; well, proceed." "We, Joe Simpson, the boy, and I, and one or two others, went down to 's gambling rooms. The boy lost all his monev there." "Did he get angry and fight about it ?" "No, he had nothing to do with the fight, only he pulled Joe Simpsen off from Dick Ferris, after Joe had struck him with a knife." A wild commotion all 'through the room now. and the Judge rapped sharply wth his gavel. "Silence!" One by the Old Man. If there is anything that disgusts the tall-corn and silo editor more than an­ other it is iliewspaper humor. Every time he reads a pnn he loses his cud, and once when he clipped a funny poem and printed it in his department, thinking it was a "Song of the Farmer," he kicked down his manger and was off his feed for a week. One day he came into the office in high good humor. He had an egg in his pocket as big as a turnip, a stock of milLet thirteen leet long--the boys had worked over two hours splicing it--and a bottle of sorghum that killed all the cockroaches in the office. "I'll give you something for your funny column," said the old man, graciously, "something that you won't be ashamed,to have people read. You needn't credit it," he went on, as he scratched across the paper' with a quill pen that sounded like a creaking wagon going down hill and that flowed ink like an artesian. "Just put it right in with your own; thank Heaven my reputation doesn't depend on these things. There she is, and she's a corker." And the ever-gloomy humorist read: "No," said Mr. Fussbudget, savagely, "Matilda can't have a new dress. Times are hard, and I'm going to have a tariff for revenue, dress or no dress." "Well," said his wife, "so we think Matilda is going to have a tear if her have a new dress, too." * There was a moment of embarrassing silence, which was broken by the silo editor: "See? Tear if her have a new; put it in; that'll catch 'em." The old man's Balary was to be raised the next week and he was assigned to the humorous department, but, alas for the vanity of human schemes. That very night he was taken deathly sick, and the doctor said he could not live till morning. Ap­ palled at the prospect of sudden death, he sent for the managing editor and confessed that ho had stolen that revenue joke out of an English paper. Thus Conscience doth make cowherds of us all, and thus the native few of evolution are sicklied o'er with the high caste of some one else's thought --Bob Bxirdette. Wood Penmanship* For busip^ss or counting-room writ­ ing therein no more be a standard than for the stature and physiognomy of those who write it. Even those who have learned to write by practicing from the same copies, and under the same teacher, and who, as schoolboys, have written essentially the same hands, wilf ultimately write styles differing as widely as will their environments and varied standing in business and life, although in each there may remain the same relative degree of excellence. Nevertheless, there are certain qualities which must bo present in all good writ­ ing. It must be legible, written with facility, and graceful and harmonious in appearance. The less shade used in business writing the better. Shaded lines can be produced only by a special contraction of the muscles. Motion is thus retarded, and the muscular force exhausted; while in unshaded writing there is a aniform, easy-flowing motion of the pen. In order that there should be the requisite strength of line for clear, strong, legrible writing, a pen of more than medium coarseness should be used. A person thus writing need have no fear of tho writer's cramp. In several instances where parties were aHlirted with the cramp, an entire change to the forearm movement, and unshaded small writing, has wrought a speedy cure. To present a pleasing ap­ pearance to the eye, writing must have uniformity in form, size, shape, slant, line, and flow of motion. One of the most fruitful sources of bad writing is carelessness. For persons who lack the power or skill to write legibly there might be some reasonable excuse, but for those possessing all the requisite skiil and power to destroy legibility through sheer carelessness there can be no excu-e; good and characteristic forms cost no more to make than do illegible or ^doubtful ones. Figures should be small, unshaded, distinctive in th air character. A large proportion of errors in accounts results from failure to place fignres accurately in their respective places.--Prof. D. T. Amen. BILL NYE. The Genial Humorist Writes About Hotel Change* America has made many gigantic strides, aside from those made at the battle of Bull Run, and £er people spend much of their time pointing with pride to her remarkable progress, but we are prone to dwell too much upon our advantages as a summer resort and our adroit measures of deciding the Presidency before we are asked, while we forget some of our more important improvements, like the elevated rail- W and the American Hotel. Let us, for a moment, look at the great changes that have been wrought in hotels during the past century. How marked has been the improvement and how wonderful the advancement. Everything has been changed. Even the towels have been changed. Electric bells, consisting of a long and alert wire with an overcoat button at one end and a reticent boy at the other, have taken the place of a human voice and a low-browed red-elm club. Where once we were compelled to fall down a dark, narrow stairoase, now we can go down the elevator or wander down the wrong stairway and fine our­ selves in the laundry. Where once we were mortified by being compelled to rise at table, reach nine feet and stab a porous pancake with our fork, meantime wiping the milk gravy out of a large yellow bowl with our coat-tails, now we can hire at tall, lithe gentleman in a full-dress suit to pass us the pancakes. Even the barrooms of Americmi hotels iare changed. Once the bar­ tender waited till his customer ran all his remarks into one long, hoarse word, with a hiccough on one end, and then he took him by the collar and threw him out into tho cold and chaotic night. Now, the bartender gradually raises on the price of drinks till his customer is frozen out, and while he is gone to the reading-room to borrow some more money the chemist moves the bar Bome- where else, and when the guest returns he finds a barber-shop where he thought he left a barroom. , One hundred years, on their swift pinions, have borne away the big and earnest dinner-bell and the sway-backed hair trunk that surprised man so when he sat down upon it to consider what clothes he would put on first. All these evidences of our crude, em- bryotic existence are gone, and in their places we have electric bells and Sara­ toga trunks wherein we may conceal our hotel room and still have space left for our clothes. It is very rare now that we see a United States Senator snaking a 2-year- old Mambrino hair trunk up three flights of stairs to his room in order to secure the labor vote. Men, as well as hotels and hotel soap, have changed. Where once a cake of soap would only last a few weeks, science has come in and perfected a style of pink soaj), flavored with vanilla, that will last for years, and a new slippery-elm towel that is absolutely impervious to moist­ ure. Hand in hand, this soap and towel go gayly down the corridors of time, welcoming the coming and speeding the parting guest, jumping deftly out of the hands of the aristocracy into the hands of a receiver, but always calm, smooth, and latherless. Nature did not fit me to be the suc­ cessful guest at a hotel. I can see why it is so. I do not know how to impress a hotel. I think all the way up from the depot, as I changed hands with my hot- handled and heavy bag, how I will stride up to the counter and ask for the room that is generally given to Mr. Blaine, but when I gflt there I fall up against a cold wave, step back into a large India-rubber cuspidor, and my over-taxed valise bursts open. While the porter and I gather up my collars and gently press them in with our feet, the clerk decides that he hasn't got such a room as I want. I then go to another hotel and suc­ ceed in getting a room which commands a view of a large red fire-escape, a long sweep of undulating eaves trough and a lightning-rod--usually No. 758--near the laundry chimney and adjoining the baggage elevator. After I had remained at the hotel several days and p ud my bill whenever I have been asked to do so and shown that I did not eat much and that I was willing to carry up my own coal, the proprietor relents and puts me in a room th^t is below timberline, and though it is a better room, I feel all the time as though I had driven out the night watchman, for the bed is still warm, and knowing that he must be sleeping out in the cold hall all night as he patiently watches the hotel, I cannot sleep until 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning, and thequ I have to get up while the chambermaid makes my bed for tho day. I try hard when I enter a hotel to as­ sume an air of arrogance and defiance, but I am all tho time afraid that there is some one present who is acquainted with me. ^ Curious Facts About Hals. The rat is finely equipped four the pe­ culiar life he is ordained to lead. He has strong weapons in the shapt of four long and very sharp teeth--twp in the upper jaw and two in the lower. These teeth, says the Boston Herald, are wedge-shaped, and, by a wonderful pro­ vision of nature, have always a line, sharp, cutting edge. On examining them carefully the inner part is found to be of a soft, ivory-like composition, which can easily be worn away, and the outer side is composed of a glass­ like enamel, which is exceedingly hard. The upper teeth work into the under, so that the centers of the opposed teeth meet perfectly in the act of gnawing; hence the soft part is being continually worn away, while the hard part keeps a sharp, chisel-lik J edge all the time, and at the same time the teeth are con­ stantly growing up from the bottom, so that as they wear away a fresh supply is ready. Should one of these teeth be removed, by accident or otherwise, the opposite tooth will continue to grow, and, there being nothing to wear it away, it will project from the mouth and be turned upon itself, and if it be an undertooth it will often grow so long as to penetrate the skull. There is a fact but little known which well illustrates tho ravages rats can in­ flict on a hard substance by these little, sharp teeth. Many of the elephants' tusks imported int - Londouflare found to have their sur.aces grooved into small furrows of unequal length and depth, a3 though cut out by a very sharp-edged instrument. No man would take the trouble to do this so carefully, but the rat has found out the tusks which contain the most gelatine-- a most delicious morsel for his palate-- and he gnaws away as much as suits him and leaves the rest for the ivory- worker, who is neither uuable nor un­ willing to profit by tho fact marked by the rat's teeth. The ivory which con­ tains a large amount of gelatine is softer and more elastic than that which does not, and as elasticity is the thing needful for billiard balls, he selects this rat-gnawed ivory and turns it into beautiful elastic spheres, to be used upon the fines* billiard tables. The elasticity of some of these balls is so great that when thrown forcibly on a hard floor they will rebound to a height of three or four feet. Rats have a remarkable instinot for finding out where there is anything good for food, and it has often been a subject for wonder how they manage to get on board ships laden with sugar and other attractive cargoes, but the mys­ tery has been solved, for they have been seen to come off shore to the ship by means of the rope by which she is moored to the wharf." By the same means they will leave the ship when she comes into port, particularly if they find their quarters filling or filled with water. Hard Roads to Travel. "When a ne'er-do-well of tho upper class is "sent out" to the colonies, it is very often the case that no introduc­ tions are given to him. If he has just commenced his downward course, and has not acquired habits which will dis­ grace himself and his family, he is more lucky and may be furnished with letters to a few leading people in his new home. Even then he may not choose to present them. If he is al­ ready a drunkard he is pretty certain to possess few or no letters. Shame prevents his friends at home from in­ troducing such a one to their colonial acquaintances. So the young man lands with no friends except those he may have made on tho voyage. He is sent out pre­ sumably to work for himself, and for that purpose his family has thought­ fully provided him with a small,annuity, which he receives by monthly install­ ments. In most oases this will effect­ ually prevent him seeking any employ­ ment. He can live on the small sum without doing any work, and that is the coursj he generally adopts. But it may be he has formed good resolutions, and lands prepared to do his best and turn over a new leaf in a new country. He therefore presents himself, with this object, to some person, either to % clergyman or to some one to whom he brings letters. He obtains employment through tbs agency of his new friend, and all goes well for a time. Glowing account' reach home of his new departure, his success. ̂ But by and by the old Adam revives in him. He has now no home influence to check him, no circle oi friends to lure him from evil. The result is that ho lapses back on the old track. !f a man is unable to "keep straight* in the midst of family and kind friends, it is not likely that ho will manage to do so when cast by himself into a strange life with perfect liberty to do and see and be what ho pleases. The usual plan which custom favor*, is to attempt to get such a ne'er-do- well upon a "run." It sounds afr tractive both to the youth himself and to his distant friends. Under the guidance of a sturdy squatter he may learn the art of managing a run, and may thus eventually be able to pur­ chase one for himself. Meanwhile he will bo "far from the madding crowd," away from the temptations of cities and city life. And if such a plan were to be adhered to the scheme would work well. But, unfortunately, it is rarely possible to adhere to it. For the run holder knows too well the style of man the youth represents. He has tried him before over and over again, and now he knows him and fights shy of him. Or he takes him for a con­ siderable premium, perhaps, and the youth who pays for his situation does not consider himself bound to work. If the run-holder disagrees with this view of matters it is comparatively easy to leave the run. He is his own master, and the little annaity so thoughtfully provided by his friends renders him independent. So he be­ takes himself once more to the town, and gathering round him his chosen companions, ho proceeds, as often as not. to live as gayly as ho may. If an}' unexpected installments of money come in he drinks them away. By this time he has lost all respect for himself and does not attempt to struggle against his vices. He may linger on in this condition for years. Ho may take to the turf and other forms of gambling, and thus add some­ thing to his small pension. But the end is usually the same. Colonial clergymen can best say how often it is their painful duty to write homerthe last sad news of such a one. Incidents like these form one of the saddest and most distressing pages in colonial life.--London Exchange. Rev. Whnngdoodle Lectures on Fools. Berlubbed Awjience--Ef I waster describe de differunt kinds ob fools dar am in dis hetih town hit w^uld take me mor'n a Week. \Ve lias only got time t^r deal wid a few, and ef all de fools wore whit3 caps dis lieah world would look like one big goose ran he. I has alters noticed no matter how big a fool a man may be he can allers find a bigger fool to admire and en­ courage him in his foolishness. ^ A fool may be described as a man who keeps on makin' de same blunders ober and obor widout knowin' it. Ebery- body am lierable ter make blunders, but de man what's got sense don't foller hit as a regular bizness. Do serciety young man who goes by de name of dood am not classified wid de reglar fools. He don't borloug tor de human family, bar's mighty little difference between a dood and a munkey, and what difforonco dar is am in favor ob de munkov. Den dar's do talkative for»1. De man who am sittin' in do tnos' darkoss ginorally does do moV talkin'. De fraugs quit croakiti' when a light am brought ter do water side. A bad cole must be awful lonesome in do head ob a man who talks too much; leastways dat's what Opie lie id says. No remidy lias bmui diskivored ter cure a foot Fish has been suggested for brain food, but brains uin't fed inter a man. Dey am horned in liitn. Yer can't measure a man's brains by do size ob his head no moali don vnu kin meas­ ure his elerquence by do size ob his mouf. Fine close don't help a fool, dov only make his foolishness more conspicuous. Lots ob ambishun and too few brains am whut ails most fools. De man who laffs at eberyding and de man who frets at eberyding am fools, but ob differunt kinds. -- Texas Siftingn. "HE who goeth into his garden to look for spiders and oobwclta will doubtless find them; but he who goeth to seek a flower may return to his house with one blooming in his bosom." | THERE is nothing so valuable, and yet BO cheap, as civility; you oan al­ most buy land with it. i PITH A5D POINT. • A 8HKKT anchor--a o'.othespin. ANY carpenter oan frame aa exctiMu To SAVE time--let your watch run down. THE check that reigns M bank check. MEN differ verv ranch from guas As a'l experience teaches. ' Men kick, when kicking, with their boots. But (?una kick with their breeches.^^^ --Boston Courier. > chaps who claim they nevotMl lijHave ordered up a drink, * Snow all tho deep Rignificance ; That lies within a wink. v --'Texas Siftings. IT was very likely Mrs. Partington who hurriedly concluded hor category of baby diseases and troubles by "And so on 'ad infantum.'"--Texas Sitt­ ings. JI MINISTER (making a call)--And do .you always do as your mamma tells you to, Flossie? Flossie(empliaticullj^ --I guess I do, and so does papai;--» New York Sun. AN English writer says: "The girl of England stands alona" That's just the difference; the girl of America always has a host of admirers about her.--Somerville Journal. "DON'T you suppose," said a member" of the police force, "that a policeman ktaows a rogue when he sees him?" "No doubt," was the reply, "but the trouble is tha>t he does not seize a rogue when he knows him." . STRANGER--Have you any anarchists in this town? Resident--Not one. This is a prohibition town vou see. "What has that to do with the matter?" "Everything. You never find anv anarchi ts where there is no beer." "How is it, Jones, that you are so much down on Smith? You are al­ ways speaking harshly of him. Did he ever do you any injury?" "No," re­ plied Jones, confusedly, "the fact is I once did him an injury." "Oh! I see; that explains your bitterness against him."--Boston Courier. IN Chicago -- Citizen (to visiting friend) -- "There's^ the handsomest gambling-house in the country." "What, you don't mean to say it is a gambling- house?" "Yes." "Has the new mavor made an effort to close it?" "No." "What is the name of the place?" "Board of Trade." -- Arkansaw Traveler. "WE must have peace and order in this community at any price," said the Kentucky man as he stood up in a law- and-order meeting, swabbed out his revolver with his handkerchief and put in new cartridges. "How many did you get when you shot just before you came in?" asked the chairman of the meeting. Seven at six shots, and one of them was the county judge and an­ other the sheriff."--Dakota Bell. CUSTOMER--You said this compound would make my hair grow. It's a fraud, sir; for I have'tried it three months and am just as bald as ever. Barber--Why didn't you put the com­ pound on your hair if you wanted it to grow ? You put it on the bald place to try to make it grow. Just as well rub it on your cheek to make your brass grow as to put it on your bald head in hopes of raising hair. Buy some hair, put the compound on it and if your hair don't grow I'll refund your money.--Newman Independent. OVER in Petosky, Mich., a lady rubbed phosphorus on her bunion, presumably, to ease tha pain, and then retired to her downy couch. Along in the night her husband, who was a drinking man, by the way, thought he saw a fiery eye looking at liim. He im­ agined that he saw a frightful winged monster with one blazing eye, staring at him; and after standing it as long as he could, he decided to kill it. Slowly he reached under the bed till he found his boot-jack, and after spitting on his hands, he whaled away. The next moment his poor wife gave a yell that nearly lifted him out of bed, but when he found out the true state of afl'airs, he was immediately relieved, even though his wi-'e has been obliged to walk on crutches ever since.--Peck's Sun. Only Practicing. They were sitting on tho sofa in the dim twilight, when he gently stole his arm about her waist. There were a few minutes of silence, she probably waiting for him to make the long- looked-for proposition. It did not come, so she murmured: "Do you think it right to put your arm about my waist?" "Yes, I see no wrong," he replied. "You have a purpose, then, in it?" she whispered. "A selfish purpose, perhaps," he re­ turned. "I am practicing, so that when I come to the proper person I will not be awkward." "You will remeaiber, sir, that familiarity breeds contempt," was the angry retort.--Philadelphia Bulletin. Obcrnmmergau's Passion Play. The Passion play at Oberammergau will not be performed again till 1890, but during tho last month the villagers have been giving a series of dramatic representations in their theater of Mul- ler's drama, "Emperor Otto the Great and His House," in which the role of the Emperor was taken by the wood- carver, Mayer, who takes the part of Christ in the Passion play. Tho cos­ tumes and scenery, all of which were much admired by the Prince Recent of Bavaria, who recently drove over from his hunting lodge in tho vicinity, and was present at the performance, were made and painted in the village- Home Journal. No Re(£rd for Her Feelings. An Austin family has a colored serv- «nt that, while very attentive to her duties, has never been "known to give anybody a civil answer. Purely as an ovporiment the lady of the house b;>uglft her a new calico dress, and gave it to her, saying: "I am glad to have the pleasure, Ma- tildy, of giviug you this dress." " Yer mout hab had dat pleasure long ago, of yer had had any regard fo' my feelings," wai the gracions reply.-- Editor's Drawer, in Harper's Maga- tine. * DR. A. B. GRIFFITHS has demon­ strated that iron sulphate, or copperas, acts upon tho cellulose of the micro­ scopic fungi which prey upon plants, but does not affect that of the higher plants themselves. It is therefore, a remedy for tho most virulent epidemics which attack field and garden crops and destroy such parasitic germs and fungi as the potato disease, wheat mil- dow, etc. In one English district this year's crop of winter beans has failed on account of a growth of fungus on the roots of the plants, a disease which a timely application of iron sulphate would have cnre/1. It is also said to be an efficient remedy for poison by ivy; dissolve a tablespoouful of copperas in two-thirds of a tea-cup of boiling wa­ ter , and when cold apply with a cloth to the poisoned places.