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PA 3S. • / • *•* TACAfC* CHAIR. •eedrot close tb« sliutt«r« yet; •a*, David, If theo -will, •ifn ronv thlus I would hht tothte, vhtta all th® houKf is st 111; -- ... DMe known 'tie easier eotvlk in thl» C&Lm, qaiat light. W':-. " >" ' :;- Of thlng* tlmt in oar bo«y day« *« hid* tsmf from sight Asfl home is wondrous sweet to ma, this alafple home of ours, Al veil 1 know it is to tljee, in All th-- twi- ' light hours • " Cat, since the shadow oin it fell, doosit tppfltr to thee fh»y*re more sacred than of c3d? for Ho it seems to uie. * ' AmA D«vid, since beside otir board bti stood Bath's Tacaut chair, 1 wver yet have clasped my hands md bowed my head in prayer ^Bt I have felt the yearning strong to see th* vanished face, " - And source, I fear, -with th&nkfnllness, h*ve joined the silent grace, • While often, at the erening meal, all oat V childrenroand, fc", „ : I still have pictured to myself alow **d silent ' mound, Btae with the early violets ot white with win­ ter snow, Ami felt a tender pity for the form there lyi-N low. • ,, Itengh morning may have cast a halo round the vacant chair, TSM sunlight only threw for me a silent s?iadow •* there. And, David, I have watched the stars when thee has been asleep; JV*well th^e knows 1 could BQt bett to have thee seen me weep, . Jkad yet I never hav^ rebelled--thee knows I speak the truth-- - Ktough some have said I grieve too much for our sweet daughter Ruth. But, with the strongest yearning, I can always look above, ABd feel thti Fat her does not cliida the change­ less human love. X cannot put it into words, I knoW -I need not try; As thee aas understood it all--borne with me patiently. Uiy cares and duties, it is tnM* are heavier than urine. TBut of their dcej^er fellings men make slight ?%.outward sign. '..'•Skid, David, thee has sometimes thought it !', strange that I should care, ?"? ' To wreath with flowers and evergreens, our . daughter's vacant chair, ' Yet I so long to keep her gentle memory green and sweet :• .-•• Jlgr all the children, though her name I seldom nowxepeat. 1 ea&not seem to speak it with a quiet, restful tone, * Though often, in their thoughtless way, they name the absent orife: And yet this mora 1 tried to tell them in a gen­ tle way m&h would have counted eighteen years had . -;;i she been here to-day-- Wis bright Thanksgiving day; and then, to me all unaware, children placed beside our board, our ! daughter's vacant chair, And now thee sees it, twiuad with flowers, stand in the moonlight clear; David, I could not draw it back, but left it standing there, And it was strango, but as I bowed my head in silent grace. I Mw our daughter sitting in her old accus- tomed place; I'did not start nor speak, but only felt a glad surprise % see how wondrous fair die was in all her an­ gel guise. •tr face was glad and glorified, as if the joy of -heaven An added charm to that sweet smile we loved *; below had given. I I know 'twas but a passing fancy filled the va- I cant chair, Ite, when I turned, a ray of sunshine seemed to linger there. Sat, David, in my heart I've kept that vision all dnv long. While it has seemed to lift me up and make my faith more strong. Star I have felt through all in some mysterious way, Bath's silent presence may hat* filled bar **- • cant chair to-day. And though I thought this early mora I never more could know A truly thankful heart for all my blessings hen below Mace in our home the vacant chair stood ever in my Bight. T«t, David, that was wrong, I know,: I see it all to-night. AMd I shall try to picture Both amid the angels . now, . H#t lying in that silent mound beneath the rain «* -- and snow, As I, perhaps, too oft have done on winter nights of storm, fften aU the others gathered round the fire so V H . flushed and warm. . ASd well-1 know one thought aloaa ' ̂ make me reconciled, *»at I may always call my own, this sweet. * pure angel child. Aad, David, if thee will, I yet would twine the vacant chair, * keep the vision that I saw to-day sttil ̂ . , sweet and fair. THE TELL-TALE HEART.' I flp Vest Wierd of Edgar Stories. ie r«e»s him by name in a hearty tone, and in» quiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have beeu a very profound old man indeed, to sus­ pect that every night, just, at twelve, I looked in npon him while he slept. Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious iD opening the door. A watch's minute hand moved more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers--of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and lie not even to dream of my Secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the'idea: and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers), so I knew that he could not see the opening, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had my head in, and.was about to open the lauterb, when my thumb slipped on the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying dUt: " Who's there ?*".'. I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the mean time I did not hear him'lie down, • He was still sitting up in bed, listening--just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall. Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or grief-- oh, no!--it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul whefi overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well! Many a night, just at midnight, when atl the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening with its dreadful echo the terrors that distracted me. ' * ~- I say I knew it well. I knew what the old mam felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing npon him. He had been trying to fancy them cause­ less, but he could not. He had been saying to himself: "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney--it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he* had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions; but he had found it'all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in ap­ proaching him, had stalked with its black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournfol influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him--although he neither saw nor heard--to fee! the presence of my head within the room. When I had wa^ed a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to oper. a little--a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it--you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily--until, at length, a single dinyrav, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye. It was open--wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with distinctness--all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones. But I could see nothing else of the old man's lace or person; for I had directed the ray, as if by instinct, pre­ cisely upon the damned spot. And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is over- acuteness of the senses ? Now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart, True!--nervous--very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad ? Hip*.The disease had sharpened my senses V' 5 .-Hnot destroyed--not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing •cute. I heard all things in the heaven and ; In the earth. ^ heard many things in hell. ^ i > How, then, am I mad? Vs* • --Harkea! aad observe how healthily-- 1*°* calmly lean tell you the whole •tory. It is impossible to say how first the Idea entered my brain; but once con­ ceived it haunted me day and night. £ , ; Object there was none. >% , ';Passion there was none. •** *' I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me tosult. For his gold I had no desire. - I thinkit was his eye! Yes! it was this. ?One of his eyes resembled that of a .TWilture--a pale blue eye, with a film orer it. Whenever it fell Upon me my Wood ran cold. if And so by degrees--very gradually-- i made up my mind te take the life of the old man* and thus rid myself of the eye forever. V Now this is the point. You fancv me mad. Madmen know Nothing. But you should have seen >*e. You should have seen how wisely X proceeded--with what caution--with • *hat foresight--with what die^imula- .< ||on I went to work! / ' • I was never kinder to the old man fhan during the whole week before I ^ Julled him. • ^ And every night, about tnidnig'nt, I • turned the latch of his door and opened #--°h, so gently! And then, when I r kad made an opening sufficient for my «ead, I put in a dark lantern all closed, s tlosed so tight that no light shone out, V. #nd then I thrust in my head. 1 i. Oh, you would have laughed to see ;0 •" ,«ow cunningly I thrust it in! ^ I moved it very, very slowly, so that It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates a soldier into cour- labors it was 4 o'clock--still daft aa midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it wjith a light heart--for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who intro­ duced themselves, with perfect suavity. They were officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neigh­ bor during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused;information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to' search the premises. I smiled--for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, wa9 absent in the country. I took my visitor# all over the house. I bade them search--search well. I lead them at length to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence I brought chairs into the room and calmly desired them here to rest from their fatigues. I, myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which re­ posed the corpse of the victim. • The officers were satisfied. j My manner had convinced / I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they ^chatted of* familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself growing pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ring­ ing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct- it continued and became more distinct. I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling, but it continued and gained definiteness-- until at length I found the noise was not within my ears. No doubt I grew very pale; but I talked very fluently and with a height­ ened voice. Yet the sound increased--and what oould I do ? It was a low, dull, quick sound--; much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath--and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehe­ mently. But the noise st^bdily increased. I arose and argued about trifles in a high key and with violent gesticula­ tions, but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men--but the noise steadily increased. OGod! what could I do? I foamed--I raved--I swGre! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder--louder--louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly and smiled. Was it possible they beard not ! Almighty Godi--no, nol t They heard!--they suspected!--they knew!--they were making a mockery of my horror! This I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I mudt scream or (lie! And now--again ? Hark! Louder! louder! louder! louder!-- "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more 1 I admit the deed!--tear up the planks^! "Here! here!--it * the beating ol his hideous heart!" * I;. ̂I might >'5r " Bleep. not disturb the old man's *;>• It took me an hour to place IUT head j iwitliin the opening so far that I could jfcee him as he lay upon his bed. ? Ha!-*would- a madman have been so "i^fwise as this ? And then, when my head, was .well in - the room,.I.undid the lantern cautiously --oh, so cautiously (for the hinges *«reaked)--I Undid 'it just so much that £ <a single thin/ray ,fell. upon jt&e vulture ;i. mje. -J . I And this I did fo^ seven long nights --every night jnst at midnight--but"! g found the eye £lWa?i closed; and so it *' was impossible to do the work; for it 1 5 was not the old man who vexed me, but his,Evil Eye.• /- And every morning, when the day Inroke, I went boldly into the chamber, And spoke courageously to him, calling • i ". * VJ, I 4 Jg *u'# age. But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. * I held the lantern motioulestC I tried how steadily I oould maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, louder and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme. It grew louder, I say, louder every moment!--do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous; so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this ex­ cited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new -anxiety seized me-- the sound would be heard by a neigh­ bor! The old man's hour had come. With a loud yell I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once--once only. In an instant I dragged him to the door and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gayly, to find the deed, so far, done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with that awful muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me, it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. t I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. I " ° There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. ,' • - ; His eye would trouble me no more. If you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautiones I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut oflf the head, and the armband the 1 legs. I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so clev­ erly, so cunningly, that no humati eye--• not even his-- could have detected any­ thing wrong. . There was nothing to- wash out--no stain of anykind--no blood-spot what­ ever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all--ha! ha! . When I had made an end ot Without Price. In villages among the mountains of Virginia and Pennsylvania, where habits of life and thought have remained al­ most unaltered for two centuries, an •odd custom still prevails which may be new to our readers. Prescriptions for the cure of different ailments--weak eyes, scrofula, consumption, cancer and hydrophobia--have been handed down in the same family from one generation to another. The prescriptions are never known to more than one person at a time, and it becomes his duty to make the remedy and give it away. According to popular superstition, if he imparts the secret, or takes money or any recompense for the medicine, its virtue is gone. JVIany of these lotions and cordials possess un­ doubted efficacy, having been originally distilled from simples and earths by men who were forced to go to Nature for cure, and who came to understand some of her resources better than we do. A similar superstition exists among the Hungarian peasants, with regard to the amulets which they wear to protect them from lightning, poison, or sudden death. The amulet must be given; as soon as it is sold it becomes worthless. The same idea formed the basis of the enstom among the ancient Irish of bak­ ing a cake at every meal for the possible guest who might chance to come in. When the meal was finished, too, a few crumbs were thrown out-of-dqors and on the hearth for any invisible creature, whether good or evil spirit, who might be hungry. These superstitions seem ridiculous to our shrewd modern sense; but the truth underlying them is as old as humanity and will live as long. It is, simply that we owe a part of our talents, our wealth, our strength, in short of every good thing God has given us, to our brother, and that as soon as we toegin to | barter it for our own advantage, the virtue goes out of it. The selfish child or man, no matter how rich lie may be in genins, knowl­ edge or money, will find life grow poorer and barer every year. He has not paid the tithes to his brother. A special blessing follows even the earthly fortunes of the man who is gen­ erous in heart as well as in deed. "He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth to the Lord," and the Lord re­ pays all such debts with a great inter­ est.-- iouth'n Companion. >BE STUB-TAILED COW; An Incident that KemlniM Prrjdtat Lin­ coln of a t.lttle Story. Stories of President Liucoln's keen humor are seemingly inexhaustible. One, which I think has never appeared in print, comes from a man who held a prominent office; under Lincoln, and who knew the great statesman well. At an official ball some thieves made off with many of the hats and overcoats of the guests, so that when the presiden­ tial party was ready to take leave vice- President Hamlin's head oovering was not to be found. "I'll tell you what, Hamlin," said a friend; "early in the evening 1 saw a man, possessed of keen foresight, hide his bat upstairs. I am sure he would be willing to donate it to the adminis­ tration and I will go and get it for you." When the hat was^produced it was found to bo very much after the style affe-;ted by Hamlin, but it wore a badge ot mourning, which emblem the vice- President ripped off with his penknife. The party stood chatting merrily as they waited for the carriages to be driven up, when a mau stepped directly in front of Mr. Hamlin and stood star­ ing at the "tile" with which his head was covered, "What are you looking at. sir?* asked Hamlin sharply. "Your hat," answered the man mildly. "If I had a weed on it I should say it was mine." "Well, it hasn't gotjjga weed on it, has it?" asked the vice-President. , "No, sir;" said the hatless mtth,"ifc hasn't." "Then it isn't your hat, is it?""said the proud possessor of it. "No, I guess not," said the man as he turned to walk away. When this little scene was explained to President Lin­ coln he laughed heartily and said : "That reminds me, Hamlin, of a long time ago when I was pioneering and soldiering in Illinois, and we put up a joke on some officers in the ^United States army. My party and I were a long way off from the comforts of civil­ ized life, and our only neighbors were the garrison of a United States fort. We did pretty well for rations, had plenty of salt meat and flour, but milk was not to be had for love or money, and as we all longed for the delicacy we thought it pretty mean that the officers of the fort, who had two cows--a stubbed-tailed one and a black and and white one--offered us no milk, though we threw out many and strong hints that it would be acceptable. At last, after much consultation, we de­ cided to teach them a lesson and bor­ row or steal one of those cows, just as you chose to put it. But how it could be done without the cow at once being identified and recovered was the ques­ tion. At last we hit on a plan. One of our prrty was dispatched" to a day's ride to the nearest slaughter house, where he procured a long red cow's tail to match the color of the stub-tailed cow, after possessing ourselves of which animal we neatly tied our purchase to the poor stub, and with appetites whet­ ted with long abstinence we drank and relished the sweet milk which 'our cow' gave. A few days after, we were honored by a call from the commander of the fort. 'Say, boys,' said he, 'we have lost one of our cows.' Of course we felt very sorry and expressed our regret accordingly. 'But,' continued the commander, 'I came over to say that if that cow of yours had a stub tail, I should say it was ours.' " 'But she hasn't a stub tail, has she?' asked we, sure of our point. " 'No,' said the officer, 'she certainly has not a stub tail.' " 'Well, she isn't your cow then,' and our argument was unanswerable as was Hamlin's."--New York Tribune. Sage Advice to Rural Girls. Those young fellows who stand in front of public buildings to show their shape, and those who stand sneaking near the church or schoolhou&e door to sort of catch a glimpse or catch on as you start home are not the ones you shonld marry, girls. They will do for you to ruin yourselves with or to split your reputation on, but boys who have "the stuff in them, that make moral lov­ ers and desirable husbands, do not do things that way. If you have no higher aim than rubbing hair oil marks from the best dress you wear, or doing double work in after years for your board, be scarce with out-door waiters.--Sardinia (O.) Sentinel Sfffil A Valuable Autograph; Ool. W. is a legislative representa­ tive of an East Texas county. He re­ gards money spent in liquidating his personal debts as money sinfully wasted, and consequently when Slaughter, the butoher, presented for payment the Colonel's bill for $50, passed five years before on account of beef and mutton, the gallant officer spoke thus: Take my advice, Slaughter, my friend, and don't part with that note yet a while. You see I am now a member of the Texas Legislature, which is no diminu­ tive honor, please reflect. Well, next time I expect to be a candidate on the citizens' ticket for State Senator; which nomination I hope to get by the aid of yourself and other influential Demo­ crats. Once in the Senate, my talents (excuse me) will be recognized, and my nomination for Governor will soon fol­ low, as a matter of course. That, you know, is the straight and narrow ortho­ dox road to the United States Senate, and from that august body I expect to continue my triumphal march to the Presidential throne. You know Texas has never yef furnished a President, and I propose to be the first one from the Lone Star State, proud empire of the Southwest! Then, you see, every simpleton in the country who has an autograph album will want my signa­ ture ; but I tell you -now confidentially, I am going to shut down on the .autV graph racket at the start. So you see, those fortunate individuals who have a copy of the genuine artiole can get a fancy price for it No, don't be in a hurry to dispose of that note. I decline to take it up now, because I know it is decidedly to your interest to keep it, and as a true friend, J. am looking to your best interests. Ta ta!"--Texas Sifting 8. . Trainer Huldoon Made Famous. There has been one very ludicrous aftermath in the SulUvan-Kilrain fight. A dozen or more paunchy old fellows of fifty and thereabouts are just crazy to go up to Muldoon's farm and astonish the countryside by prancing up and down the hills in "sweaters." Just im- magine ten or twelve substantial New Yorkers who have grown gross for years on innumerable birds and bottles going up to Belfast and becoming as active and skittish as they were thirty years ago! But it is cold, sober fact. Mul­ doon's fame as a trainer ha9 spread the country over, and has certainly "struck in" as far as New York is concerned. Several elderly members of the New York Athletic Club and of kindred- or­ ganizations find that their girth is in­ creasing daily, despite all the Turkish baths and the dieting they can stand. Nothing wounds the vanity of the aver- »age club man so much as to be referred to by young women as "that fat old gentleman," and the story of how the gross and flabby Boston slugger was reduced from 250 pounds of adipose to 210 pounds of hard meat and muscle has resulted in Muldoon being flooded with applications to try his hand in the same, direction on peaceable citizens. It is just possible that he mav consent to make this decidedly novel experi­ ment, although not at once. J a good rest," Muldoon said to a. World reporter the other day, "for I believe I deserve it. I had to break up my family and turn everything topsy­ turvy to properly accommodate him, and I would have to do it all over again if these gentlemen want to go through the some course of treatment. Many of the methods I employed were en­ tirely new and, as the result has shown, thoroughly effective. It is possible to take hold of any man, no matter how fat he may be, and bring him down to a healthy, muscular condition--provided, of course, that he possesses the vitality and is not incurably weakened through a fast life." "What do you think of the idea, «nj- how?" * "A veryrgood one," ,was the reply, "but 1 am not prepared to consider it just now. After I get a little ease and rest I may undertake the job." Notwithstanding Muldoon's refusal to enter into the scheme before colder weather, a self-formed class of six has been collected, ard you may look for reports of the nimble manner in which these gay old boys skip the rope, chop firewood and make themselves generally ridiculous. vr o, A Practical Joke. Mme. la Marquise de Gallifet, cesse de Martigues, was, four-and- twenty years aprrv one of the most lovely women in Paris. She is half English, f r her father, Lafitte, the banker, mar­ ried an English lady. Mme. de Galli- fet is as fair as her sister (who first married Erlanger, the banker, and sec­ ondly Cordier) is dark, but apart from the beauty of her face (and years have treated her very kindly), she possesses a remarkable fascination, which pro­ ceeds from her constant good-nature and sweet amiability of character. Her few faults (for all of which she has been most bitterly punished) have always •roceeded from her tenderness of heart. The beautiful and blonde Marquise could not find it in her heart to say "no" to anybody who did not seek too auda­ cious a favor, the result, of course, in­ evitably being that her generosity was abused and taken an unfair advantage of. Her nickname, "Cochonette," origi­ nated in a very malicious and untrue rumor that De Grammont-Caderousse spread, to the effect that this dainty lady did not pay so much attention to soap and water as she might have done. Her husband, the celebrated Marquis de Gallifet, having reason to suspect that hi3 wife did not care over much for soap and water, played oflf on her the following practical joke, One night, or rather morning, after returning from a ball at the Tnileries, he strolled into his wife's dressing-room, and lighting a cigarette sat down to discuss the events of the evening before retiring to his own rooms. He found Mme. la Marquise impatiently taking off her jewels and throwing them right a"d left on the car­ pet for the maids to pick up in the morning and put in order. After a few minutes' conversation the e Marquis kissed his wife's hand apd retired for the night, but the following morning he came in again and asked his wife to let him take a beautiful ruby bracelet he had once given her to Boucheron's to be reset, as it had already been ar­ ranged between them it" should be. Mme. la Marquise told one of her maids to bring the bracelet, but the jewel was not to be found. The house was thor­ oughly searched from top to bottom, but the njjssing bracelet was not discovered. "Never mind," said the Marquis, at last; "you must have been robbed, that is all. I will get you another like it." Ten days later lie again came into his wife's dressing-room early in the morning, and after a few minutes' casual conversation, carelessly asked, "You have seen noth­ ing of that ruby bracelet, I suppose, that you lost ten days ago?" "No," re­ plied Mme. de Gallifet, innocently; "of course not. How could I?" "Cocho­ nette!" exclaimed the hero of Puebla, bursting out laughing; then, taking his wife by the hand, he gently led her up to the washing-stand, which, as is com­ mon in France, closed with a lid to keep the dust out. Lifting the cover, he showed his bewildered better-half the bracelet lying in the basin, where he had put it the night he had gone into his wife's bedroom after the court ball. --"Piccadilly " in the San Francisco Arogonaut. Wanted to Hear IV The principal of one of our gfeat college-preparatory schools became, in his old age, unusually sweet-tempered and lovable,--an old, ruddy-faced man he was, with silver hair and a good- humored countenance. The village which held his famous school valued and reverenced him. But he had the frequent infirmity of the old of re-telling his venerable stories incessantly, and many kinds of stops and evasions were in demand in dealing with the good doctor. One day he carefully pinned a neighbor on the street, and began-- apropos of nothing at all--to introduce A threadbare anecdote, funny at its out­ set, doubtless, but now no longer able to provoke a smile. The lady, in her desperation, pro­ fessed a Vivid recollection of the story, and made a reckless plunge into another subject. *2>o you remember it?" ejaculated the delighted old gentleman, not at all offended. And then, edging"nearer, and with a fresh sparkle of interest in his kindlv eyes, "Then.please tell it to me!" • Swindling a Bank. 1 Bis the rule with most banks to ck> no business with absolute strangers, and to require identification or at least references. Sometimes when a man wants to open an account he resents very bitterly the demand for an in­ troduction. If he would only consider thematter he would see how very im­ portant the rule is. There are many reasons for it, but the chief is to prevent a scheme which has frequently proved successful. A member of the gang will open an account and pay in and draw checks in a most regular manner for several months. Then one day he will happen to be present when a stranger presents a large check, the two will recognize each other as old friends, and the rogue with an account will identify the rogue with, the check, which may turn out to be a forgery. With all precaution as to introduction and identification, frauds are possible, but without them frauds would be simple and easy, and, as a natural re­ sult, frequent.--Globe Democrat. She Would Get Even. "Then,' my dear, you have really made up your mind to marry a widow­ er?" "Certainly." "And does he never talk to you about his first wife ?" "I should like him to try. If he did I should at once begin to teUHm abdut my third husband."--Madrid. Comico. THAT the moon is made of cheese is a mere idle fancy, honeymoon is made of taff; Saute' iMi Marriage Brokers of Genoa. In a letter written from Italy by- Dickens to the poet Rogera, which ap­ pears in the biography of the poet, oc­ curs the following graphic description of the marriage brokers of Genoa: Do you know of the marriage brokers ampng the Genoese? Sometimes they are old women-- queer old women who are always presenting themselves mys­ teriously at unexpected times like their sisterhood in the Arabian Nights. But there are men brokers; shrewd, hard, thorough-paced men of business. They keep formal registers of marriageable young ladies and marriageable young gentlemen; and when they find a very good match on their books--or rather when one of these gentry does--he goes to the father of the young lady and says: "Signor, you have a daughter to dis­ pose of?" "I have," says the father. "And you will give her 50,000 francs," says the broker. "On fair terms," replies the father. "Signore," replies the broker, "I know a gentleman with 50,000 franos, embarked in business, who will take 50,000 francs and the clothes." "Clothes to what value," asks the father. "Clothes to the value of 500 francs, and a gold watch," says thebroker. "His terms are too high; my daugh­ ter hasn't got a gold watch," says the father. "But, signore, she has a cast in the eye," says the broker; "and a cast in the eye is cheap at a gold watch." ^ ^ "Say clothes worth 250 francs and a silver bracelet," retorts the father. "I admit the cast in the eye, and will throw in the silver bracelet, though it is too much." * "We couldn't doit signore, under a gold watch," says the broker. "The young gentleman might have done bet­ ter in his last negotiation, but he stood for a watch. Besides, signore, as a fair-dealing man, you must make an allowance for the ankles, which, says the broker, referring to the books, "are thick, If I did rigid justice to my em­ ployer, signore, and hand't a personal regard for you, I should require at least 150,000 francs for each leg." On such terms the bargain is dis­ cussed, and the balance struck, and the young people don't see each Qther un­ til all is settled. A Boy and a Panther* In the lumber camp on the Uppet Aroostook there was a boy 16 years ol age named Andrew Jackson, an English- Swede, just from the old country. One morning our crew started out scaling lumber as usual, when an unearthly scream sounded behind them. The men came running in in excited groups. The boy was the last to arrive and a Eanther was following him--it might aye been but a rod or two behind, but he did not seem to quicken his steps. Kirk, the boss, could not get the men back to work, although they had not seen the brute. Andrew said, "Me go!" The men looked in astonishment as he arose, took his ax, and started alone to­ ward the landing. Then, as if shamed by the action of the boy, they all went back to their work. Day passed, and it was nearly night, when suddenly we heard the same uproar in the direction of the landing, and the teams soon came in. "Where is Andrew?" asked Kirk. "The blamed fool wouldn't come," an­ swered Bill, one of the men. "He has got a pen all rigged out with long stakes sharpened at the ends, and he's a settin inside es calm es if he was going to eat his supper." "And here is twenty men agoing to see him eat up for that creature's "sup­ per before they will stir to help him," shouted Kirk indignantly. "Come, if you are men and not cowards, follow me. We started with axes and crept cau­ tiously through the bushes. What a sight met our eyes. In the midst of a mass of bi'oken stakes lay a panther, still quivering, though quite dead, im­ paled upon two of the sharpest -stakes, his round head battered to a jelly, while Andrew stood near reviewing him, and binding or tryiug to bind a deep gash in his shoulder. "Well, Andrew, you have done it," shouted Kirk, rushing to help him. "Yaw!" answered the Swede, "me feex that," pointing to the broken pen oi stakes. "Him come; him joomp on de steek; me kill wid ax; dat's so." The brute measured seven and a hall feet. Andrew was a hero in more than one camp that year. -- Philadelphia Press. Edward Irving's Vagaries. " A statement made on the authority of "the late Archdeacqn Phil pot, that on one occasion Edward, Irving at­ tempted by prayer to bring his dead child to life, has been stigmatized by the Irvingites as an attempt to cast a slur upon the character of a great and good man. But the circumstantial evi­ dence of Mr. J. Bate in a letfer to last week's Becord is conclusive. Some sixty years ago Mr. Bate was acquainted with two brothers of' the name of Douglas, booksellers, and predecessors of the present firm of Burns & Oates "Of the two brothers, the younger was a follower of Irving. He died of con­ sumption, but was fully convinced, almost till the very hour of his decease, that he should live to see the Lord's personal advent. After his dea^h Mr. Irving and some of his prophets came to the house and attempted to^ raise him from the dead. This was told me at the time by the elder brother. He said to me that he felt deeply pained at the conduct of Mr. Irving and his friends; for they laid to his charge the failure of their attempt to raise his brother from the dead. The cause tney said was his (the elder Douglas's) want of faith,"-- St. James'8 Gazette. So Was the Silver. Yesterday afternoon she was sitting with her back to the window cleaning the family silver, and singing with her voice away up to a concert pitch, "There's u Land That is Fairer Than Day," when suddenly a rich baritone voice at the window took up the refrain "In the Sweet By-and-By," and con­ tinued to carry the air with her. ' She wasn't going to sing with a strange choir* in that fashion, and she turned to see who the accompanist was. There stood a nice-looking, strange young man. "Excuse me, Miss," he said, "but you do sing so beautifully I could not help stopping to listen. You are a profes­ sional musician, I presume, Miss? "Oh, no," simpered the girl; "I only sing to amuse myself." "Isit possible? Might I trouble you for a drink of water, Miss ?" •No trouble at all," said the girl, and she went to the pantry for a glass and then to the ice-tank in the next room for the water. . When she returned the singer was gone. So was the basket of family ail* ver.--Detroit Free Press. FLASHES OF FUR. i ';m Aw exchange asks: "How do % get arms?" Well, very much as ? get legs and other things. PADDY--Mike, do yez belave in home ' rale?" Mike--Oi do, but the old woman #' is the only one that knows' what H B manes. ' «§• "LOOK at the murderer," said one- man to another in the cou^t room. £# "He's the picture of health." "Yes, but the picture needs hanging." If "THIS is somewhat of a 'twine trust,'" V said the young man as his best girl wound her arms about his neck to whis­ per sweet nothings in his large left ear. VISITOB in editorial room (to man sit­ ting at the desk)--Do you not grow weary of so much thought? "Oh, 1 don't think. I write the book reviews." "WELL, Mr. Assessor, what are yoa going to make out of your boy?" "J think he will do for a policeman, be­ cause I can never find him when I want him." IT IS not good for mau to be alone except when his wife's millinery bille come in. Then it is a good thing tot the whole family thftfc he should Iw ® alone. . MORMEOM WIFE, NO. 5--mat fei V' are ye' takin' such a lot o' pains blackiu ^ his boots ter day ? To-morrer ain't Sunday. Wife No. 4.--No, but he'e & goin' conrtin'. "By Jove, Charlie, that's ah awfully ? jolly cane you have there." "That't not a cane, old man; it's a loaf of French bread I promised to take home to mj wife, don't chew know." ' Mr. Dash may be a fine, player,"~bul I do not intend to ask him to my lawn tennis parties." "Why, what is there agaiusthim?" "O, he pays too much attention to the game and too little far the girls." A BACHELOR who lives in Newark, It J., and who has always had a fear that his little wife might rule him, says now that a new idea has struck him, He it going to marry a tvpe-writer girl, be­ cause he can,, dictate to her. HIGHWAY BOBBER--4Shell out voui money, stranger, I'll let you keep enough to last you through the day.-- Stranger--I'm on my way to a church fair, sir, and have just $30. However. I can let you have--"Pass on poor fel­ low. You'll need it all." MRS. BLOTTERWICK (reading): -- Among those who paid their respects to the President was Hon. John Double- face of Buncombe. Can that be old Doubleface, our neighbor? Blotterwiok (who keeps a large store, dubiously)-- Hardly possible. I never knew of him paying anything before. -Agent (who has sold,a typewriter to boy's father)--Johnny, how does yout pa like his new typewriter? Johnny--" Oh, mighty well, I guess, from the waj his lips were applied to her mouth this morning. But don't tell ma, and I'll make enough out of pa to go to the cir­ cus to-night.--Drake's Magazine. MISS DAVIS--Howdy, Brer Silas! where you got dat likely lookin' muel ? Pears mighty lak er muel dat was missin' at de Corners las' week ? Brother Silas --- Slowly, Sis' Davis, slowly. Dere's too many hen feathers back oh dat house for folkeses what don't keep no chickens ter ask pinted question! like dat. Johnston (to his friend, a reporter, »• cently married)--This was quite a note­ worthy account of your wedding in last week's Bugle. It spoke of you and your lady in terms of the highest praise. You ought to be proud of such favor­ able mention. Reporter--That artiole ought to be about the right thing. 1 wrote it myself. A FINE Bye for Business.--"DocAer, how did you come to rent an offce away off here ? This isn't much of a neigh­ borhood for your profession, is it ?" Ia it? I sheuld shudder and groan. That building over the way is a cooking school, there's a woman's restaurant on the next corner, and the big barn on the back lot is a boys' gymnasium. I've advertised for a partner already." "DID lever tell you," asked Fogg, in one of his bursts of confidence, "how I achieved a reputation for unparalleled • bravery amongthe natives on my African trip? No? Well, I must tell you. They had a big enclosure full of snakes. It lay in my way and I walked through it. The natives fairly worshiped me when I got through. They thought s man with such cool courage must be more than mortal. The fun of it was that I didn't beliete there were any snakes there at all. Saw them ? Of course I saw them; but you see I thought it was another attack of the jim-jams. Funny, wasn't it ?" Burial Customs of the Stone Age. That the Stone age men had fixed dwelling-places "appears from their often magnificent tombs, which seem tc point to the beginning of an organized society, and the combined industry of s small community or a whole tribe." These tombs are described as "dol­ mens," "passage-graves," and "stone cists." Of these, the dolmens were the earliest; the passage-graves-are a little later; the uncovered stone cists are later still; and the cistij oovered with'a" barrow belong to the time o/ transition between the Stone and Bronze ages. "During the Stone age," says Prof. Monteliuy( "bodies were always buried unburnea, in a recumbent or sitting position. By the side of the dea<iiJbody was usually laid a weapon, a todVuf/ ^ some ornament. We often find in graves of this period earthenware ves­ sels, now filled only with earth. .Thef care bestowed upon the last i es ting- place of the departed certainly betok­ ens a belief in a future life; but the things placed by the side of the dead seem to show that the life was believed to be merely a continuation of the life on earth, with the same needs and the same pleasures." Offering-stones, with little cup-shaped holes, are eometimeh found on the roof-stones of graves of the Stone age. They are now popu­ larly called "elf-mills," and are still re­ garded as holy, and, it is said, offerings are still secretly made in them. --POGMT- lar Science Monthly. . Gut off His Hand to Avoid Work. One of the laziest men in the country Is John Curtis, who is serving a three years' sentence in the State prison at Salem, Oregon. Curtis worked in the foundry, and about three months ago took off his boots, on the plea that they burt him, and then burned his foot so severely that he was laid up. When the burn was healing he put vinegar on it, and aggravated it to prevent its get­ ting well. The prison physician threat- aned him, and managed to cure the wound. Curtis was set at work again. He worked four days, and then with a batehet cut of his left hand. It took two blows. Onte cut through the fleshy part of the hand; the other oleaa through the wrist joint. H^e confessed that he did it to avoid work. , A.'V * VJJL, A.-A.