full many y*tt* A f^tb, trim, slim, and fair; Ba WH bis mottw'i only •Oa. Likewise Ma father's heir. H« dnased with care, thii youth so fair, Wore neckties pink tad , blue, . • . fspijid fancied he had tal ents rare , For prose and rerses, % «*>• addition .y f P y He fen in love, this young man did. . With 'Squire Fmith a daughter Belief _ jje he his passions hid-- i not dare to tel . Mtotgtb he hit upon a plan - 8**4 serenade his love, " \ write some^verses--bright young man-- [ to his "fair dove. 3Ka ransacked everv music store The little town contained, , , , •And o'er the lists loi:g time did pfBi, ; tTill he his object gamed. v* •*• ;« " *€» thee I'm fondly dreaming'--these Wen words that suited well; fie thought he'd found a song to ptease The dark-eyed "fairy Belle." r . Ha oamed the music o'er and o't9t,:- *,v Illl be had learned it quite; «/• , Jlnd in his mind the wordB did ittr To give his girl delight. 8e purchased, too. alight guitar#?- * • *Twas just the thing he aought|,,p;>>. ,:•» "Then to the attic did repair, 9To practice, as he ought. "Jtan to her house, Thanksgiving night, 'When everything waa still," Our.hero walked, with all his mjgstt. Up 'Squire Smith's ngly hill. £« paused and panted at the topf , And aat him down to rest; J&r.otions that he could not stop Were raging in h's breast. ; The young man twanged his light guitar, And sang in dulcet tones, *Qf thee Tin dreaming," "Xhou'it my star"-- The echoe - brought him groans. * Young man wti ke up!" 'Squire R called out *"And quit your ' dreaming' thetSl •' Ton don't know what yon are atxMfc ""formy girl's gone from here." • Yes, it w»s true; his love was devil To him for evermore! ^tankSRiving mom she had been wed, And gone some hours before. « ... f « # * • • ' T T f c e l i g h t g u i t a r h e t h r e w a s i d e , Nor cared for music more; Ait home he closely did abide. And somber neckties wore. As years rolled on he portly grew, Gained much in vis iom's way; • ""9HI serenades, and maidens, toot ' V He hates unto this day. - ' - §£, MRS. WILSON'S THANKSGIVING. ^ BY M. jr. ADAMS. BS. WILSO& still sat at her sewing, although the clock ticked away moments bordering on/ m i d n i g h t . H e r , two children, Fanny and Flor ence, had long Isince retired to the sleep of the i n n o c e n t . T h e cold winds with out rattled the doors and win- -dows, and the chilly atmosphere of the room sent many a shiver through the frail form of the weary toiler. The fire liad died out. The next day would be Thanksgiv ing, and Mrs. Wilson had been think ing of the time her husband lay dying and she had bent over to kiss the cold lips when the spirit had fled, at just this same honr and minutes--half-past -eleven. Then they had lived in a com fortable little home until the mortgage ate it up, and, drifting from place to place, she was glad to get % two-roomed rickety frame house in the poor district •of the city. Fanny was awahe, and called to her mother: "Wont God send as one if we pray tor it?" "He might, my dear, but should it ; mot please Him to do so, it would be wrong for us to complain," replied Mrs. Wilson, mentally reckoning up the contents of her slim pocket-book. "Well, I'm going to ask Him, any- 'way. Oh, Lord, please send mamma -a nice big turkey for Thanksgiving. Please, Lord, don't forget her." Then the ch Id bade her mother good-night, «nd, pulling the bed-quilts close about ! her golden head, she gradually drifted into the wonderful scenes of child hood's dreamland. The mother, with bowed head, "breathed an " amen,0 although she •could see no way to gratify the wish of Che little one, save by sitting up an : hour or two longer and finishing the plain dress she was then making for a lady up town. She resolved to do so. Wrapping her shawl close about her, abe worked as she had never worked ' before. The feeling of weariness had left her, and a new strength seemed to take its place. The dock struck twelve, one, two, and in twenty min utes mora the job was done. Thanksgiving morning came, with a heavy snowfall Mrs. Wilson arose as usual, the loss ; of sleep being no stranger to her con stitution. Having dressed and ordered the •children to remain where thev were until the room had grown warmer, Mrs. Wilson built a light fire, as she had but * few pounds of coal left. She then wrapped up the dress that had cost her so many weary hours of labor, intending to deliver it in order to get some money with which to pur chase a small turkey. When the room wan warmer, she dressed the children, and prepared a sample meal of weak coffee, without milk, and some pancakes. A rap sounded on the door, and Mrs. -Cullen, a next-door neighbor, entered. "Gud morn in', Mrs. Wilson," said faff*. " earn* to. the Uttleonse" relished their humble meal. "Hovnt yes no more ooal nor that wee bit, Mrs. Wilson?* asked Mrs. Cnllen, eying the nearly empty box back of the stove. "That is all I have, Mrs. Cullen," re plied the poor woman, with a sigh. "Oloory be to the Hivenly Faithert" exclaimed Mrs, Cullen, grasping the coal-hod and hurrying away before could be stopped. Mrs. Cullen returned with the hod filled with coal, poked the smoldering fire, and, adding a Bhovel or two of fuel, soon had a cheerful blase going that lent a grateful warmth to every part of the house. "There, me darlint, ye'll not be cowld at any rate," she said, rising to leave. Mrs. Wilson thanked the good wom an, and requested her to remain with the children while she went her errand, which Mrs. Cullen gladly consented to do. Scantily clothed, Mrs. WitSon start ed up town with her parcel. She hur ried along the slippery walk as the church-bells rang for morning ser vices. Arriving at a handsome brick resi dence that proclaimed its owner well- to-do, she rang the door-bell and asked for the lady of the house. "She has company now, and is very busy; call again," said the servant, who came in answer to the summons. She was about to close the door when Mrs. Wilson spoke: ' "Please tell the lady I would like to see her. I have brought a dress of hers." "Oh, that's it, is it? I thought you were begging. I'll ask Mrs. Bond," said the officious servant, requesting the trembling woman to enter and re main iu the hallway, and in a few mo ments Mrs. Bond flounced out. "Ah, good morning," she said? "You have brought my dress, I see. Can Jou change a twenty-dollar gold piece? To, of course not. Well, I am sorry; but I have no small change, so you will please call to-morrow, and " "I need the money now, Mrs. Bond, if you could manage to accommodate me," timidly interrupted Mrs. Wilson. "But, my dear woman, I cannot make the change now, as&am in a hurry to attend Thank sg ivio^3er vices. Call to-morrow morning and your pay shall be all ready," replied Mrs. Bond, mov ing away. Mrs. Wilson made one more effort for the sake of the little ones at home. ; he called to the retreating lady: "One moment, Mrs. Bond. I need the money and did desire so much to purchase a turkey." f. "Turkey!" and the lady of fashion elevated her eyebrows. "Poor people should live according to their circum stances. liut if you are so anxious to have turkey, why, you may call around after dinner and get what we have left-- if the servants do not dispose of the remnants before you get here." "No, thank you," replied Mrs. Wil son, coloring at the insult. "We'll get along very well without;" and she left the house. "Say, ma, what did that lady Wish?" dress' to-day. B&etold ane w! said. And I felt very sorry." •Of coarse I needed the money. Miss Blanche; and besides " ' "Certainly," said Blanche, smiling in her sweet way, "and your disappoint ment must have been great, for yon said you wished to purchase a turkey." *1 asked God for one last night," W % n i u m m w i r "She hat cjmpany now; call again.' f ;'«K ' even for bread* / tkotfUbt thankful -afce, uncovering a dish containing nicely broiled piece of steak and a few mealy potatoes. "I bring this taste over to ye, Mrs. Wilson, k no win' ez bow je'd be nadin' somethin' to put atrin'th in ye take it, I hov plinty lift •ae--thanks be to God--an* i cud- ate it an* be fUin' jsfpl' an' chit- !f Mrs. Wilton opened it and invited the young lady to enter. asked Mrs. Bond's daughter Blanche, after the widow's departure. Miss Bond was noted for her deeds of char ity. "Oh, she wanted pay for the dress she made me, and I did not have the change to give her. It is very hard to suit some people." "I have the change, ma--who was it?" "That Mrs. Wilson, who does our plain sewing." Blanche flew to the door and looked Tip and down the street, but Mrs. Wil son was not in sight. She turned to her mother. "Why didn't you ask me for change, ma? You know pa always allows me liberal pocket money, and the poor woman might have been paid as well as not." "She would squander it on turkey anyway," replied Mrs. Bond, with a curl of the lip. "And why not? Is she not entitled to a turkey on Thanksgiving as well as we?" Blanche ventured to ask. "No," replied her mother, "nor any poor person like her--for them I call it extravagance. I aa'.ed her to come around after dinner and get what re mained of ours, but she started off in a huff, so let her go." "Oh, ma!" exclaimed Blanche, her eyes glistening with tears, "do be more charitable. Can you expect the Lord to listen to your prayers to-day, know ing, as He does, the hardness of your heart? Mrs. Wilson is needy, and a widow at that." A few moments later the Bond fam ily sleigh, with its blooded team and well-dressed party, might be seen mov ing swiftly over the snow to one of the fashionable churches. Blanche, how ever, was not with them. * Mrs. Wilson started homeward with a leaden heart. The Bond family passed bar on their way to church. "There's Mrs. Bond," thought she, giving the sleigh a glance as it passed by. "Little does she know what the poor have to undergo. " She found< the good Mrs. Cnllen with Florence in her arms, the child having fallen asleep following a crying spell. "Where's my turkey, mamma?" Fan ny asked, as soon as her mother en- tered. "I could not get one, my dear, and we shall have to do without," replied Mrs. Wilson, turning away. "Who's there?" Mrs. Cnllen fwked, looking out the window. The poor widow grew pale as slia answered: "It is Miss Bond, and a man servant is with her." "I'll roon--they're coomin* la." "Stay where you are, Mrs. Cullen. Perhaps there is something wrong MM* chimed in Fanny, and her mother si lenced her with a reprimand. Toor child," said Blanche, lifting the little one and kissing her. "Did you want a turkey so bad ? Well, my dear, God has heard your prayer, "step ping to the door and calling to the servant, who brought in some pack ages. "On the table, John," said she, re moving a wrapper and displaying a fine turkey. "There, Mrs. Wilson, you have a good one, and here is some jelly I made myself; so you can have a good dinner." Mrs. Wilson tried to speak, but was so astonished that the words died upon her lips. "What ails you, my good woman?" asked Miss Bond, placing her hand upon Mrs. Cullen's shoulder. "Oi'm oryin' wid j'v, me gerl, an' may the Lord reward ye for th' comfort ye're bringin' the widdy an' childhur." "Thank you, Mrs. ---" "Cullen," added Mrs. Wilson, who recovered her self-possession, and thanked Miss Bond heartily. "Mrs. Cullen is a friend of yours, Mrs. Wilson?" "l'es, and a kind one, Miss Bond," replied the happy woman, mentioning the good turns done by her poor neigh bor. "Now I must go. Good-by all, and much happiness," said Miss Bond, and the light-hearted girl sprang into the cutter with more than one blessing called upon her head, while the happy women watched her until she disap peared in the distance. When she had gone, Fanny said: "Now, mamma, didn't I tell yon God wouldn't forget us." And she ran to hex mother and kissed her. Poor, frail Mrs. Wilson had % joyous Thanksgiving after all Mist Bond calls occasionally, and from this we may judge that the poor widow shall know no more suffering--if the purse and kind heart of the young lady ea$ prevent it. ^ Tl:e 8Mret tf Graceful Walking. Every one who saw Bertha von Hil- lern walk in the days before she laid aside her leadership in womanly ath letics to take up the palette and brush, mult, have noticed how expressive a part her easy swing of the arms played in the graceful and deliberate exercise. Some of her girl admirers, in the safe seclns'on of the dark streets, going home from those exhibitions, tried Swingiug their arms as they walked, with the result of far less fatigue at the end of an evening walk than at the beginning. The splendidly increased circulation that the arm movement gives the lungs vitalizes a long walk with renewed energy, and no walking dress for a girl or woman should be considered a perfect lit until she can swing her arms in it or toaoh her hands easily above her head. Not one in ten gowns of the tailor- made pattern, so-called, will allow of this being done. Consequently, nine gowns out of len are unt't to walk in. It may not be necessary, when simply passing through a crowded city street for an errand a block or two away, to make the arm movemeut, unless thia is the only time and place where you can get the walking exercise that day. If that is so, give the arm full plav, no matter what the crowd. You had bet ter live with good health and red blood in every muscle than die before your time of cramped sleeves and starved lung ti sue in£ an all too prim gown. Any one who ever tries the exhilaration of walking with her arms in use will not soon forget the benefit. The au tumn weather ought to see droves of girl pedestrians getting inspiration in every sense of the word, and sending grateful thoughts to the inventor of common sense in walking.--Letter oj Clara De Vere. hoengry. .MS % mm faMmi. r Names in ChUL In Chili, as in all other Spanish- American countries, every man and woman is named after the saint whose anniversary is nearest the day on which they were born, and that saint is ex pected to look after the welfare of those christened in his or her honor. These names sound fine in Spanish, but when they come to be translated into unpoetic English there is an oddity, and often something comical about them. For example, the name of the recent President of Chili is Domingo Santa Maria, which being in terpreted means "Sunday Holy Mary." The name of the President of Ecuador is Jesus Mary Caamano (apple), and that of the Governor of the province of Valparaiso is "Sunday Bull" (Do mingo Torres). The use of the Savior's name is common, even upon the signs of stores and saloons in cities, and in the nomenclature of the streets. I met a girl once whose name was Dolores Digerier (Sorrowful Stomach).-- Har per's Magazine. diwi and soon aft dent Hayes. A FRENCH experimenter, M. Cling mann, appears to have successfully sought for a material superior to carbon for electric lighting. Pencils of zir conium will last, he affirms, for several months in an arc lamp. THE only obstacle to successful housekeeping nowadays is the "servant- galism." THS haughty young lady cannot deny that she » maiden Tain.--Afitrcfamt Traveler. »Bi m Federal offices over quarrel, which finally i|ftt»tt political m r. Blaine's election as a bone of contention I inauguration of Presi- John Sherman, ^en Sec retary of the Treasury, made a decided mof# liy removing' Collector Arthur (afterwards President) and Naval Offi cer Cornell, Gen. Merritt was nomi nated as ooilebtor, and the Committee on Commerce, of which Mr. Couklin was Chairman, wrote Secretary Sher man, asking why the change was made. His reply was laid before the Senate in exebutir^sAssion, and it, enclosed a letter from Gen. Merritt, whose nomi nation wait pending, which assumed to give a statement of tho manner in which business was then transacted at the New York Custom House, in com parison to the way it was done under Gen. Arthur, the old Collector. The Secretary, in his letter, referred at length to this letter of Merritt, end made the old charges against Arthur, to the effect that he did not attend to his business; that he arrived at his of fice late in the day; that he was not in accord with the Treasury Department^ and the general administration, and that a change was desirable on many other grounds. Secretary Sherman also gave the other reason? for remov ing Naval Officer Cornell, among them being his failure to attend to his busi ness, and his want of co-operation with the administration. Secretary Sherman in his letter said he wrote at the direc tion of the President. The preliminaries of reading the let ter being over, a very lively scene oc curred. Mr. Conkling made a speech of over a half-hour's length. He was more severe on the President than dur ing his fight for the rejection of Booae- velt and Prince the previous winter. He repeatedly called the President by name and denounced him in unmeas ured terms. He did not speak of him as the President, but as simply "Mr." Hayes. He could not say what prompted Mr. Hayes to persist in mov ing the best officers that had ever been in New York, as he was glad to say that he was not one who was welcomed at the Executive Mansion. As for Sec retary Sherman, his excoriation was most bitter. Mr. Conkling spoke of him as "John" Sherman, and said that the Senate knew who John Sherman was and of his riches. He said John Sherman would not dare to say what he had said when he was in the Senate; nor would he dare say what he had said if Chester A. Arthur could have an equal chance in the premises. His allusions to John Sherman's riches were unmistakably intended to convey the idea that his money was not hon estly acquired. The speech was in the highest degree sensational, aud it was the bitterest ever delive'red by Mr. Conkling in either open or secret ses sion. It was not only bitter, but it was abusive of both the President and Sec retary of the Treasury. At one point one of the Senators made a parliamentary point that Mr. Conkling was not speaking respectfully of the President. "But I am speaking of Mr. Hayes," he quickly answered. The point being pressed, he said he would not say anything more, the point not having in reality been raised until he had finished his speech. Mr. Thurman, with mock-gravity, said he thought, inasmuch as a citizen of Ohio had been attacked, that he ought to say something in reply, but Conkling said he had merely been speaking of Mr. Hayes. Nobody at tempted to answer the New York Sen ator, and his speech was greeted with evidence of enjoyment on all sides. Mr. Thurman thought the letter of Secretary Sherman should be printed and made public, iu order that the parties accused should have a chance to reply. Other Senators thought the letter should be referred to the Corn- mitt ee_ on Commerce, of which Mr. Conkling was Chairman. There was considerable discussion as to what should be done with the paper, and the Senate seemed to be in a quandary. To get rid of the responsibility, Sena tor Saulsbury moved to adjourn. This ; motion had the effect of testing the strength of the administration and the strength of Mr. Conkling. The latter strongly opposed adjourning without settling the subject. The vote was nineteen to forty, and the Senate re fused to adjourn. Mr. Edmunds moved to refer the paper to tho Committee on Commerce for investigation if the com mittee should deem it necessary, and to summon Arthur and Cornell to give their cases in opposition to the one pre sented by Secretary Sherman. This motion was finally carried. When George C. Gorham closed his accounts as Secretary and distributing officer of the Senate, in 1877. after elev m years service, it was found at the Department that there was 1 cent owitig him. In an official letter, which had to be copied, recorded, numbered, etc., the United States Treasurer noti fied Gorham of the balance on settle ment and requested that he would draw his check for the amount. With tlie same precision as though a million dolls/s was at stake, the check was draw 1. A messenger conveyed it to the treasury. The books were searched to see if the amount was to Gorham's credit, and then the cent was paid--a great big copper one--which Gorham prop< sed to keep for luck evermore. It seemed that had he not drawn the bal ance. it would have gone on forever anion4 tho liabilities of the Treasury, and occasioned any amount of trouble to tlm clerks. Senator Jamas Jackson, of Georgia, fought a bloody dubl before he came to WanLington. He was an Englishman by birth, but he came to Savannah wh n a lad, studied law, was a leading Freemason, and fought gallantly in the BcTolutionary War. He killed Lieut Gov. Wells in 1780 in a duel, and was engaged in several other "affairs of honor," until he finally determined to accept a challenge on such terms as would make it his last duel. So he prescribed, as the terms, that each party, armed with a double-barrelled gun loaded^ with buckshot, and with a hunting-knife, should row himself in a skiff to designated points «on opposite sides of the Savannah Biver. When the city clock struck twelve each party should start and row his skiff to a smal l island in the middle of the river, which was wooded and covered with under brush. On arriving at the island each party was to moor his skiff, stand by it tor ten minutes, and then go about on the island till the meeting took place. The seconds waited on the mainland until after I o'clock, when they heard three gunshots and load and angry cries. Then all was still. At, daylight, as had been agreed upon, the seconds went to the inland, and found Jackson lying 011 the ground, insensible from tneiossof blood, land his antagonist lying acroSs him, dead. Jackson reoov- As an example ef tfed language, tho "•dinar* domestic ^owl presents the most interesting and perfect range, so conuaon thai it is randy oonsidered or reflected not a faw *31 be as tonished at Ola voeal possibilities of the hen if they will give the subject a little investigation. Knowing that the hen has a voioe, we assume that its office is to afford com munication between individuals. Half an hour in a farmyard will beyond question demonstrate this, and that certain sounds are the equivolents of words. The crow of a cock is assuredly a challenge, the moment another bird is noticed, and is kept up, either in ad vance or retreat. It is sounded in the morning in answer to others, and is comparable to the challenge or war cry of many savage tribes, or even the answering shouts of college boys or men, that are xmexplainable on other grounds than a challenge of merits. Observing closely our rooster, ac companied by his family, we notice that the hens pay no attention to the chal lenge ; but let him find some delicaoy, hc utters a succession of short notes, "Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck!" upon which the others rush abput him, eager to share. Again if a hawk flies overhead, the cock, guardian of the flock, raises his head and utters a prolonged note, as different from the former as possible: "Ka-r-r-r-e," he seems to say, which translated into English means, "Look out for the hawk! run!" and imme diately hens and chickens duck their heads and rush for cover. Now let a dog dart at the head of this family, and listen to the clucks and other sounds coming fast and furious--protests in every intonation. The hen cannot crow, but she has in other respects as perfeot control of lan guage as her master. Indeed, she can sing; purely a self-congratulatory per formance expressive of deep content ment and complete satisfaction, heard when hens are let out and they are run ning for food, and upon warm days in spring it is a "keir, kerr, kerr," differ- ingin its modulation and intonation in individuals. How different is this from the sharp "cluck, cluck" of the mother- hen. The latter is a general warning to everybody, and plainly says, "I have a young family and must be let alone." If a grain is found how sud denly that is changed to the quick call, "Tuck, tuck, tuck!" upon hearing which the little ones come rushing pell- mell ; and they understand it the mo ment they leave the shell. Indeed, the different notes or "baby talk" of a hen are of great variety. "No one would think of saying that the *cut-cut- ca-da-cut' was a call. It says as plain as words can tell, "I have laid an egg," and the bright little egg-hunter who heirs immediately starts for the hay loft, as a favorite hound of mine was in a habit of doing. She understood hen language, and fed upon freshly laid eggs some time before I discovered that she was such a linguist. The mo • ment "cut-cut-ca-da-cut" was heard she trotted into the hen-coop. When the little chicks are nestled under the mother another sound is heard, a piolouged hoarse "c-r-a-w-z-z-e, c-r-a-w-z-z-e," which I copy from a happy mother in my possession, with out the aid of a phonograph. Enter a chicken-coop at night, and a soft whist ling noise is made, a gentle chirping by the birds, sounding something like "w-h-o-i-e," rapidly repeated, that speaks plainly of apprehension. If a chicken is seized by the leg the "c-r-a-i-a-i-o-u, c-r-a-i-a-i-o-u" that fol lows could never be constructed into anything but a wail of anguish. So if we commence a dictionary of the do mestic fowl-language we might have the following as a basis: Ur-ka-do-dle-do-o-o. Challenge of mala Tuck, tuck, tuck. Food call of male. K-a-r-r-e. Announcing presence of hawk. ^ Cut-cut-ca-da- egg-laying. Cluck, cluck, cluck. Call of young. Kerr, kerr, kerr. Song of content ment of hen. " C-r-a-w-z-z-e. Quieting young chicks. W-h-o-o-i-e" (whistle). Expression of apprehension at night. C-r-a-i-a-i-o-u. Terror and protest of capture. The^e sounds of course vary in indi viduals ; that is in the intonation, as, like persons, no two birds can utter the same vocal sounds, --*(7. F. Holder, in I Vide Awake^ i-oui Announcement of * ' * . ? s . • > ; Ife, il 4 Hi Dining on a Picture. The early days of Jules Bastien's ca reer were a time of struggle and pov erty. He was glad to draw designs for a fashion journal, and once he went down to Damvillers and painted forty portraits of the villagers. The cost of living, small as his expenses were, was a serious matter. For the rent of his little attic studio he paid $50 a year. He breakfasted upon three sous' worth of bread and two of coffee, with milk. For dinner, at a franc and a half, about 27 cents,'he went to the restaurant of Mademoiselle Anna, Bue Saint-Benoit. In those early days he painted a pic ture of a peasant girl walking in a for est, in spring, entrapped by Loves who where casting their nets before her feet. This picture was accepted at the Salon in 1873, through the influence of Cabanel, but it was not sold. It was the first painting that Jules Bastien ex hibited, and its fate was a curious one. Kind-hearied Mademoiselle Anna un derstood the needy state of the young artists who visited her restaurant, and Bastien was her favorite. When he lacked the franc and a half for dinner, she cheerfully gave him credit, and finally she accepted this picture in pay ment for a year's dinners. Afterward, when the name of the artist became famous, she was offered four times the amount of her bill for painting, but she refused to part with it, and kept the first work of her protege until her death. -- Hipley Hitchcock^ its St, Nichola».__ ;••;* Careful tins* fc . Gus De Smith--Miss Esmeralda, I am delighted to see you. " Esmeralda--The p'onsure is mutual, Mr. De Smith, I ass;; -e you. "Miss Esmeralda, u I were to present you with a bouquet would you aooept it?" "Certainly, Mr. De Smith; but you have no bouquet with you." "I am going out to buy one for you right now. You see I didn't care to invest any money on a bouquet until I was sure you would accept it."--Sift ing h. IT is hard to personate and act a part long, for when truth is not at the bot tom nature will always be endeavor ing to return, and peep out and betray itself one time or anotner. , I -i* ,v ,«• .«"! **' < r , & . s t . • , - i n s ba very accurate whan measuring n|wdi. cine* ,m» following b a tabfe every o ie irho intends to nurse should get by heart: One minim equals one drop; sixty minima equals one fluid drachm, or one teaapoonful; eight fluid drachms equals one fluid ounce, or two tablespoonfnls; twenty fluid ounces equals one pint; half fluid ounoe equal one tablespoonful, or two teaspoonfuls. Keep a slate or a piece of paper, and write down anything you may wish to ask the doctor, or that you may think necessary to tell %, to as not to forget. One's memory is very apt to fail one at critical moments, and, besides, your strong personal in terest in the patient tends to make you less clear headed than the professional nurse, who, however sympathetic and tender, has not your individual fcuijmr toward the patient And, above all, if you are allowed to nurse or help in the nursing, do cultivate sufficient com mon sense to realize that if you negleot your own health you will only give double trouble by breaking down and having to be nursed yourself, while you injure your patient by failing just at the time when, perhaps, your serv ices are most needed. Because you are not a coward, do not be foolhardy. Re member, it is not. only for your own sake that you should be cautious about infection; there are cases where people in direct contact with the sick have not caught the disease themselves, and yet have transmitted it badly to some total outsider. Never go near an in fections case, if you can help it, fasting or when thoroughly tired; and never, on any account, stand so that the air blows on to you from the patient, for which reason never st md between the sick bed and the fire if there is one. When nursing or helping to nurse an infectious case always keep a solution of carbolicacid or some other disinfect ant, in which to dip your hands after at tending to the patient; never go near other people if you can help it in the clothes you have been wearing in the sick room. Never whisper in a sick room, it is far more exasperating to the sick than any ordinary talking; do not wear creaky boots, but at the same time do not cultivate a habit of slipping fthrjut. in l.Ht slinnara ntnpV'-- 1 Ito J" li ri ig which time every article Soli® people ate too proud to bag ttftiMkoo honest to steal, sotheyget . GNOXCS and hidden 1 as you might pgr. THKBS is a Montana Three-ball Jack. PerlEpehe ieTSa- soendant of Tubal Oain.-T«nu Sift- ings. A MAX who buys an artificial opt|& thinking he may need it some day, has an eye to the future.--Texas Sift ing8. JUST let A. B. C. D., and the rest of the alphabet will be only too proud to notice him in his old clothes.--Carl - PreUel. , l "PAPA," said a sweet sixteen, "what is a tailor's goose ?" "You will be1 a 2 tailor's goose, my dear," replied the old man, "if you ever marry a tailor." --Newman Independent. BILLY--Say, Tom, let's go and have a ball. Tom--At your expense? Billy --Certainly. Tom--Have you got the money? Billy---How confoundedly in sulting you are. I withdraw my invita tion. Tom--Oh, so you havenft got it, hey?--Boston Beacon, i % FOGG and Brown have entered tlie' city hall. Fogg--Who was that who spoke to you just now ? Brewn--That ? Oh, that is McFinn, one of our ciiy fathers. Fogg--You don't mean itf He speaks English remarkably well for a city official.-- Boston Transcript, WE are glad to see the mercury sociable ana take a little drop, but alas l it is the same old story: Taking a drop is the entering wedge that leads | to excess, and some day by and by ipi expect to see the mercury take af drop too mucli.--Boston Courier. x ^ ROBERT INGEESOLL thinks that malNf ;; men are spoiled by education. If Bra was considering the way that the col lege students study nowadsys to be come athletes, he is unquestionably correct. What this country is suffer ing for is more brains and fewer fool* - - ball players.--Peck's Sun. * - THE DIFFERENCE. /-• Jack Blnnt once loved a maid wtaoae hair 9v ~' "X With terra-cotta might compare. ."*'4 "My heart beat* tor you," he sa'd; 11 V "No matter if your hair U red. v ' With ma the color has no heft"-- *' • V ̂ • And he got left. ̂ », i George Smoothly later came to woo, 1 ihe, with passion, tender, true, sire to remind the Cast Pa Obedience and oon^enoe at somtTcmis and if they have learned to doubt you it will double the uphill battle you have to fight. Study the sick and learn to manage them by yielding to them. At- 'tend to their wishes and fancies and learn their idiosyncracies, and by this means you will treble your usefulness. --London Exchange. Fascinating Jewels. "Do I ever keep a lookout for sus picious characters in front of my show window with pieces of lead pipe or bricks ? No, I can't say that I do," said a retail jeweler in answer to the question of a reporter. "The watch ing wouldn't amount to much unless it was pretty steady, and that would necessitate a trusted man behind the counter for that purpose alone. But a funny thing that I do notice is the regularity with which some people will Bald "I lore you and all that is you; Those looks of dainty golden hair The sunlight kissed and lingered thfie*> I'd give my all for one sweet cari." < ; v f He got the girl, ̂ --Washington Critic. • , SERVANT, to the parson, who is 'irety lill indeed--If you please, sir, the I chorister is down stairs and wants to- know if you won't give him the hymns for next Sunday's service ? Parson, feebly--Tell him there will be no serv ice; I expect to be dead before next Sunday.' Servant, exit^and re-enter-- If you please, he says thon will you be kind enough to send down the hymna you'd like sung at the funeral? (Par son recovers much more rapidly than chorister.) "PAPA, that man over there is going to get his ride for nothing," aaid an ob servant little boy on a suburban train the other day; "he got on when we did and now he pretends like he was asleep. The conductor's just gone by him." "He is not an honest man, my son," re plied the father; "cheating a railroad company is as bad as any other kind of cheating. I would rather see you in th© cold ground, my boy, than to see you grow up to be a dishonest man. JL iemember--what the deuce are y<kl ' itretching yourself up for? Crouch [own in your seat, you jabbering idiot! rhe conductor's coming this way. Do ou suppose I want to have to pay Jfc1 111* Soot Pr you?"--Chicago Tribune. The Violin in Politics. * The fiddling politicians are able to Aff A«l 41 oint to very respectable precedent!, li LUX1 JC litniillt *ys ^ie Wheeling Intelligencer. No )ss a person than Thomas Jefferson ppears in history with his violin in re manufactured for this Fall aiiJ|and* Mu8io was one of the passions invited to purchase fresh and desif tlie Sage of Monticello> and the ilete the necessary preparations ffi. » JHfV.' ! ing down the goods etc., our 6t WILL handsome diamond and ruby bracelet, worth nearly $800, and always went away with a satisfied smile. He came regularly for two months, and at first I suspected him of evil designs, but I soon saw my fears were groundless. Well, the morning after the bracelet was sold that man came up and looked high and low for the familiar object Finally he walked in and demanded of my clerk where it was. "Sold," said he. "What!" shrieked the seedy man. 'Sold! Why, you fraud, what do you 'mean by putting goods into your win dow to attract buyers and then selling them! You don't catch me buying any thing here!'. and he stalked out in high dudgeon. Somepther dealer is prob ably 'attracting' Lis custom now. I have had many amusing experiences with the window gazers, but in oddity this one excelled them all."--Jeweller's Weekly. Ancient Cure for Hydrophobia. This was the heroic treatment pre scribed for the bite of a mad dog in 1709, as given in BoerLaave's "Aphor isms:" 'The method to preserve one from farther harm requires: 1. That immediately after the poison is com municated the whole affected place, together with the surrounding, be im mediately scarified very deep, and blood be drawn to a great quantity, by means of large glasses laid over the scarified parts; or the some be burned deep with a red-hot iron; then the part may be made to supperate 'for a long while by means of such things as ulcerate by their constant corrosive- ness; in the meantime, from the be ginning of the cure to the end, foment the parts with pickle made of Bay salt and vinegar; and these things ought to be continued until the sixth mouth from tbe first accident. 2. Tho clothes and other things which may have baen touched with the poison, or that the mad animal has breathed upon, ought to be laid aside and carefully avoided." --St. Louis Globe-Democrat , An Apt Student. Omaha Medical Student--Shotgun dese? What on earth is that? Old Doctor--In the old days when science had made little progress what was called the shotgun dose was very popular. Some young doctors give it yet. "But what is it?" "A misture of all sorts of remedies, so if one won't oatch hold the other may." "I see. Something like a political platform."--Omaha World. THE iron chain and the silken cord, both equally are bonds.--Schiller, f? olin was one of his ways of in- lging his bent. He tells' that for elve years of his early life he spent [iree hours a day with his instrument, lie young patriot and his violin were -ominent figures in those pleasant _ tertainments held onoe a. week in the gubernatorial "palace" when Lieutenant Governor Fauquier was trying to hold things level in the Virginia colony. They had dancing and conversation and card-playing at a ruinous rate, but Jefferson preferred his fiddle to cardf; for which he had an aversion that lasted him through life. Upon one occasion, while Jefferson and his mother were absent from old Shadwell, fire destroyed the home stead, in which were the young lawyer's books and papers. The slave man who hurried off with the bad tidings was asked by Jefferson if his books wefe saved. 1 "No, master," replied the man, hip face lighting up with a pleased expres sion, "but we saved the fiddle." The slave knew what that ilddle wsi to his master and to all tli3 folks at home. While Jefferson was iu Paris on his delicate and difficult diplomatic mission, he fell and sprained his wrist. The surgery was so bad that he was never able thereafMlf to play his violin, notwithstanding he went to" Aisf by the advice of physicians to try the waters of that famous place for his sprained wrist! A Clear Case of Predestination. I well remember one fellow, a fine soldier, too, who scorned the burden of even a blanket on a march, and so at night, when he failed to steal one (which was seldom), he sat up by a fins and made night hideous with mock ser mons of wonderful theology and doubt ful morality. Strange to say, he sur vived the war and is now enlisted in the army of the Lord. At Yicksburg this same preacher was responsible for a ready retort under trying circuiHr stances. He was then a firm CaivinisV and was always ready to do battle i|ij: defense of bis creed. One day he was Bitting with a group in an angle of the works, discussing his favorite dogma of predestination. Just then a shell ploded among them and knocked fclb||. Eredestinarian over without hurting im. When he recovered his breath and lest he darted off for the shelter of a traverse just in front of u& His.an tagonist yelled at him and twitted hifli for want of faith in his own doetriiKj,.. He did not pause in the order of his g<j§ ing, but stuttered back: "Ca-ca-oan*! stop; it's pre-pre predestined that I must get on the other side of tha traverse!" and he fulfilled the decref to the letter and with commendabljb alacrity.--Philadelphia Times. .PARIS, was known as Lutetia untff 1184, when the name of tha grew;;< Frenoh capital was changed la thsi which it has borne ever ainoe. * • J . • • -j « I f ^ *< 1 » - •• .»•»