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m rb: 1- * , ->! $» fefe« .#h* v w -• " ;. *1 •*, lf > -, ,«,. 4 ; f< B , , „ * " */ V ^ \?-y^ T«r FATHEK TO HIS HOC. w ither, William Jolt), ray ton, eosae hffj) •>• to my knee, W«ll sit. and watch the riTer J ake its tourney to ter^f? ti>o «»<», v , M« tlK> >.ater ntfta along I fain would talk a •'*% •• while, mtrnsm I have heard thy youthful sold is lately * ' " Mawped it> gnile; v ' ' A J#. JThmf fcel! m«» that von wnat to be a humeri»t, " & -write !nr paper*, grinding out your jests at morning, noon find night; : of candies mado of clay and other jokes as dark-- j my eon. old Noah sprung saoh chestnuts to the urk l • Tesll t»11 about t he -wretched man who, long with stow, pipes toils, : e*y the mother-in-law ia fit for stratagems e»D FJWI ils; : -And to the cat that, sings at night yon columns * will devote, Aad bubble o'er with humor when you're speak­ ing of the goat That break* its fust with cjnros bills and scraps of rusty tin, boil -with mirth when peeking of em. The} mast sit up at 4 see the fun, ho said. * ; ' Before long the supply of cider ran low. "Dukes," said the Deacon, "we must have another mug of the old stuff. It helps to warm a feller up. You're younger than I am, so you take the candle and go down cellar and draw some." ."Oh, Deacon, I couldn't think of tak- tramp whc.'j soaked with i_ And gets a dot» of thirty day--oh, William Johnnie, hnrk! Nr.nU rung the b«Il on such while sailing in the arK. , . «t course, abofct the Kitting hen you'll speak la '* 1 • ectRsv-- V •, J TTiat broolitis fo-vrt has always been to humor­ ists a glee; 1' Jta® then tin' poet with his rhymes who climbs ..Ifs*;:;vV.'. th« printer's stair, h'"e ; Ana lands.upon the cJdcwalk with a look of , "i-tj , dull despair; ' , f,J\ And looking to the future, eon, yon well I can ••••frs-V '• decry pi > Propounding trach a thing M this: "What rw makes the bottle-fly?" vl> i « ^ telling of ilie nurse and "cop" a-courting in • 'f; ' tlw park-- sfe.f • Ok* Nosh wept when gags llko these were given iu the ark. " fV"i ' beside the rtprar, son, and watch its - Tv „* rapid flow, ' . f ' • -.'And if you <lo not change your mind wo rap- idly Bhail go j. where there hangs a beaten strap within • y . onr humble call, I shall gontly take It down--shall take It ' j fro.n 1i;o wall; f '"if'» f" 08® v-no livn within these blocks, ere we , have don® onr quarrel t Wll think I'm simply pounding iil the heading *% "yJ of a barrel; •d '1 And If they any questions ask 111 say it's just »? a lark H „ WWk one who wants to spring the gag« that *C.' sounded in the ark. V > ' i, --Omaha llrpablican. DEACON PRATT. •tOt CLARA AUGUSTA. The direst consternation reigned in t*arkville. The community were thun- iclerstruck. People went about with Vf solemn countenances, and spoke in sub- dae»i whispers. It was dreadful. ' Deacon Pratt was a pillar of the ^church. For the tweuty years of his >•" * l iret-idence in Parkville, he had possessed ^ 6be contidence of the people. He had Vjtjeen school committee; he had set on a k i .jury; he had come very near being S^f'<" elected to tlie office of third select mail ^ - --an<' wotild have been if two Irishmen !| ', • ^ ̂ who had been hired to vote for him had jg/ *' - not talked to the opposite party--in- %. •cited to do so by the offer of an extra glass of whisky apiece. *4'- ^ ' But it was singular to notice how soon p' ;..afer the terrible story got noised |> • "" around, all the Deacon's acquaintances I&" L "lr to remember things about him " • i&?" ' had been long kept out of mind. i, ^ He used to swear before lie was con- iH^^werfced. H© w^s a notorious cross baby. '« ^.'He had been seen to kick the dog. He j;*'/ »atoned Jones' cows once. And a long "time ago he and the first Mrs. Pratt Ibad quarrelled about the number of f«gg8 which the gray turkey should set, *and they had pulled hair" on it. But th® Deacon had the worst of it, for Mrs. •Pratt wore a wig, and her husband "wone his own hair. tojV-aJL.niixi11.jtVuii ****** frosl ̂but no snow. Ill f 17- I8TA Waehington correspondent says: The western members of Congress look at the accession of the four new states, -resting in" her grar: .ougk to be sure she ought to rest, ; Vfe ' the gossi})s said, for she was buried in ' - • ;" *.* cashmere robe, in a black walnut '*!\ i,. L ' _.- coffin with silver handles, and had a ififty-dollar tombstone over her head, v ' t But then fifty-dollar tombstones ^weren't everything! ; -4 H«,«J ' - And it was soon all over"the town /. ̂ the first Mrs. Pratt had been hur- ^4, 1" tied to her grave by her husband, and %£, % l,f that her spirit had come back to torment m» 6° It! \-N t' "WJ: Tho Deacon himself began to grow pal©; Mrs. Pratt No. 2 got nervous, and was afraid to go down cellar; Belinda, the hired girl, kept a bottle of holy •water constantly in her pocket; and Sambo, the darky help, slept every , , , , . night with his head wrapped up in the « '-v fwverlet. * ^ «» terrible apparition had first '1f;,te^||;:5'beea seen one night in August, when - ?v tbe Deacon and his wife were at prayer- Meeting. Belinda had seen it go in a^ front door, and when the j deacon and his wife returned they had % seen it go out of the back door, through "Sambo," said the Deacon, "you go and get the cider. I don't like to leaye Mr. Dukes alone for fear the 'ghost might come while I'm gone." "Lord bless you, massa!" cried the .darky, rolling up his eyes, "de cider's ice as eber was* and Sambo wouldn't have no disjectives against a drink of it, but this chile wouldn't go down into that sullur at dis time of night for all the cider in the world!" " Fiddlesticks!" said Dukes; "Deacon, •we'll go down together. It needs two, one to hold the light, and the other the mug:" So the two men cautiously descended thei stairs, and approached the appart- niont . under the chimney where the cider was kept. "Hark," said Dukes, "wlipt was that?" "I guess it was somebody come in up­ stairs," said the Deacon, nervously: "I thought I heard a door shut. I'll go up and see." - "No, no," replied I Dukes, "let'B get the cider first." They opened the door of the cider cellar and went inside. Instantly the door clanged to. and the key grated in the lock. A tall, white-robed figure, with the ghostly face of a dead man, confronted the two trembling heroes. . Dukes fell on his knees behind a cider barrel, and the Deacon jumped into an ash box, and screamed lustily. "Don'ttake me!" cried Dukes; "it's the Deacon you're after. He's been a dreadful old reprobate. I'm honest, I belong to the church, and give $5 to the minister, besides a couple of pounds of butter Thanksgiving time." "He's the very one you want 1" cried the Deacon; "take him, dear, good ghost! He cheated the Widder Smith in work! and he sold eassingers made out of liver! Spare me! I'm an old, gray-headed man, and can't last long.' "Deacon Pratt," cried the sepulchral voice of the g^ ost, "on one condition you shall botu go free! None other! Promise, both of ye, what I require, or I will drag you down to everlasting torment!" "Anything! Anything!" cried the Deacon. "I promise," said Mr. Dukes. "Deacon Pratt, Thomas Callender loves your daughter. In separating them you sold your ^oul to the devil. Consent to their marriage, and I leave you forever! Refuse, and I give you over to Satan! Consent, both of yel* "I do! I do!" said the Deacon; up\~t- shall marry him whenever ahe likes!" "I give her up!" said Dukes; "the "Widder Buggins will make the best housekeeper rater all." "Go t'-en!" aaid the ghost and flung open the door. » s' Out rushed the Deacon and Dukes and up the stairs, but Sambo had fas­ tened the cellar door, and Belinda was pouring boiling water through all the 4 cracks. "Faith, and it's after seeing if he ^^an stand hot water, I am!" cried she. ^*"Divil a bit of a ghost in me own coun- ----j-y could live through that!" and she t go a second kettleful, right onto the^ host-layers.'1' eacon, and e for the . , ,» was seized by (1 had the wits nearly shaken out ot him, before tdie animal discovered that he was deal­ ing with his own master. Dukea rushed out also, and the two fled to the bedroom of Mrs. Pratt and got under the bed, with the bureau against the door, where they laid till morning, listning to the growling of Towzer, jvnrl the snoring of Mrs. Pratt. The Deacon kept his word, He mar­ ried Tom and Nellie, and set them tip at housekeeping. And Mr. Dukes mar­ ried the Widder Buggins. And the ghost was seen no more. But up in Tom Callender's private closet there hangs a long white garment, and a mask like the face of a dead man, which might suggest an idea or two to a person who was sceptical in regard to ghosts. .i " « Vt ' celerity hope to -f y imtV/y <wr ^ •'V U,u w , „ ibe currant bushes, and into the grave- ! yard beyond. lb ' ,^7», A tall figure, clad in flowing white ,v ' " ' garments, and moving with i ^ * * S ' BO living thing could ever *V * iKr f'! ' ,s • The ghost soon became the topic of ?•%. • conversation everywhere. It was seen almost every night. The minister ^ v ( apoke of it in his sermons. The editor y.-, ^ of the Spitboro' Teleyraph filled a half if). ' column of his paper witfh an account of j ^ I"-'- it Courageous, scientific -men offered to unmask it, and solve the mystery, but some way, when the night grew •dark, they retired to the Deacon's kitchen, concluding they could decide it better ower a mug of cider, by a good fire, than out in the cold and dark. Some foolish people said the ghost *« a judgment on the Deacon for in­ terfering in the love affairs of his daughter Nellie and Tom Collender. Tom was a fine fellow, though poor as a churdh mouse, and he and Nellie loved «ach other to distraction. But the 3>eaeon had other views for her; he had promised her to Richard Duke3, a very ^wealthy man, and he showed poor Tom the door of his house in a very officious way, and intimated to him, with his •cane uplifted, that the door in question was made to go out at. And he informed Nellie that she «hould never see the color of his money, rif she saw the color of Tom's brown «yes again, and Nellie cried herself sick for a couple of days, and then became as merry as a lark. Mr. Dukes began to visit the farm-house, and about fame the ghost was seen. Mr. Dukea heard the story of the ap- parition, and laughed it to scorn. He'd like to see the ghost that could frighten him, he said. He'd just as soon meet .it as meet their old cow. Leave it to htm, and he'd soon "lay" it, for he was •aot one of those people who arc scared »to death at title*. / ^1 Mr. Dukes, it will be Been* was a •|f ' * :JBSH of sense. *' p;<4 •' Iasteuiug to his talk, the Deacon f vued courageous. Over a mug of the two men discussed what they .„T- should do if his ghostship should ap J' i^,;. pear, and getting more and more t, - p-4> plucky, they decided to sit up, and see if'% If he would not appear. Sambo and fa: . Belinda both entreated to be allowed to MP p bed* but vthe. Deacon forbade I ' Box and Cox. The report of the serious illness of John Madison Morton, auther of so many popular faces written for the En­ glish stage, reminds us of an anecdote in connection with his well known play, "Box andCox." When Charles Matthews was man­ ager of one the London thea­ tres, the illness or absence of an actor rendered it impossible to give the afterpiece, or farce, and Mr. Matthews, after the first piece, came out before the curtain to make a suit­ able apology to the audience. He said that with the present company they were unable to substitute any other farce for the one on the bill, and he craved the indulgence of the audience. There was some grumbling among the people and an evident disposition to in­ sist upon another play being given, for Englishmen are prone to demand the full value of their money. "If any of you can suggest a farce that we can plav with this company, I will gladly aocede, said Mr. Matthews, blandly. "Box and Cox," cried a gruff voice in the pit near the stage. ' "Matthews fixed him with his glitter­ ing eye, and said: "Why Box w»d Cox?" Then a voice from a stall cried : "Why Box and Cox ?" The cry was taken up all over the house--"Why Box and Cox?" amid roars of laughter. The man who made the suggestion looked terrified at the tumult he had' invoked, and as it intensified he seized his umbrella and incontinently bolted for the door, pursued by a storm of-- "Why Box and Cox?" Everybody had a great laugh--the oironjjfi stance was a roaring farce in it­ self--Matthews smiled and bowed him­ self out, and everybody went away sat­ isfied with the evening's entertain- ment.--Texan Sifting a. On a Grave Subject. Wife--Will you see that my grave ia kept green, my darling? Husband--No, my dear, but I fwill plant violets upon it. "For what reason?" "Because I do not wish any gtave-rob- l>ers to dig up your body." "How will tlie planting of violets upon my grave prevent them from digging ne up." "Why, your grave will be kept in­ violate, of oonxae."--Texas Stftinga. t:4ste t'-Ui 4««MA3!MrS BOYS." An Incident of th« War. - It was in the last days of th« •mst, when Sheriden's men were riding up the valley to hit Gen. Early a last blow, that a score of us were wheeled out of column to scout a by-road and pick up the stragglers from the Confederate ranks who were dodging about to get home. Half a rpile from the main col­ umn we ran upon the blackened ruins and tall chimneys of an old Virginia mansion. One could see by glancing over the grounds that people of. wealth and refinement had lived there, and in the ruins one could read another page of the book of war. Those great chimneys, standing grim, and silent, and alone, with blackened family hearth-stones for pedestals, and with apex a resting place for the great buzzards which flew hither ttod yan, always told of the tears and heartaches of war. Peace has removed them or hidden them behind the olimb- ing rose or ivy, but the heart of those w ho still live must ache as memory goes back to the dates and deeds of blood and destruction. A few rods below the ruins was a frame barn, which had been oonverted into a temporary dwelling. A gray- haired man and woman had taken shel­ ter there, and close behind it, on the sun-kissed hill, was a new made £rave. Less than a week ago a daughter had been buried there--a daughter who was also wi!e and mother. Sheridan had moved swiftly. We had come too soon. In the house, as we rode up was the stricken husband of the dead wife, braving all dangers to return as soon as word reached him, but arriving too late. On his knee he held his chubby, yellow-haired boy of 4, and beside him stood old black "Mammy," the tears streaming down her aged cheeks as she laid a hand on his shoulder and sooth­ ingly said: "She's better off in Heaven, Mars' Gauge--heap better. Ize dun broke my old heart ober it, but 'tain't no good. You's got little Tom left, an' thank the Lawd, Ize got boaf my boys to live fur!" She had sung the father to sleep in his baby days, and father and sou were "her boys"--her big and little boy. An escort had come with the father aud husband, for he was a Major. There were six men in the orchard on the hill, and we had come up so quietly that we were unnoticed uutil we were almost upon them. Then they did a galant thing to favor their chief. They were outnumbered three or four to one, but they advanced on foot and opened fire to check and hold us until the Major could get out. They did "hold us for five minutes, killing one and wouuding two men, but they had better retreated like cravens or surrendered like women. We soon drove them back, killing half their number, and as we swept up to the house old mamipa appeared in the door, threw un her hands and wailed oat: .. _ .. f'lday the Lawd nebber furgiveye fur whet ye hav dun to dis poor family!" The fight had been sharp and quick* We were on the march, under orders to move swiftly, and the idea was to kill or capture and report to the column as soon as possible. None of as knew that the barn was tenanted by this people driven out of the house further up the hill. . It was in the line of fire and our bullets went through it. When the fight was over the Major lay dead under a i>each tree near the back door, killed as he came out to direct his men, and in the house was a sight to break our hearts. Mammy's "little boy" was a Corpse, horribly disfigured by a. carbine ball which had struck him in the face. Grandpa and grandma, white-haired, aged, and bent, sat mute and helpless, their hearts telling them that we were murderers and old Mammv, her black face looking as hard as marble, and her eyes blazing like a tigar's, stood before us and pointed to pur horrible- work and cried: "If de Lawd eber dun furgives one of ye den I never want to go to Heaven!" "What could we do? What could we say ? It was war--horrible- and mur­ derous war. Those helpless people were not our enemies, but war deals its evil blows to the armed and unarmed. In our hearts we grieved and sorrowed with them, and there was not a man who would not have given an arm to undo that bloody work. And we rode on to slay and wound, and make yet other hearts wonder why a mei'ciful God would permit such a cruel thing as war.--Detroit Free Press. A Family Fend. A recent visitor in Albania throws light upon the character of the people in a letter in which he said: Being in confidential mood, mv host t^lls me about his family and children, and that he has a blood feud with one of the most powerful families of the neighbor­ ing Hotti tribe, and so never goes out of the village alone, for fear he should be shot for the blood he owes his enemies. His sister, he explains, married a man of Hotti, and it was considered a splen­ did match, as that tribe is one of the most powerful in the great mountains, and takes the post of honor in time of war. About a year after the marriage, the husband repudiated his bride and sent her home, giving no reason for the outrage, but merely saying he was not going to keep the woman any longer. Such an insult was not to be tolerated; so my host and his brother, seeing that there was no ehance of obtaining for their sister the restitution of her rights, looked out for an opportunity of killing their new brother-in-law. "He was very cunning," says my host, reflectively, playing with his pistol, "but I waited for him every day, and at last I caught him alone, and then I shot him for the slight he had dared put upon our'family," "So you owe"them blood?" He grins, aud arraugea his pistols in his leather sila. "His father and brothers," he replied, "often come into our country to look for me, and wait for me outside the bazaar or on the road to Soodra, but I never go in the city without my brother and my relatives, so they cannot exact the pen­ alty without fighting a battle." "But surely that must be a great nuisance for you ?" He shrugs his shoulders. "Some day they wiil catch me alone as I caught him, and then they will shoot me if they can," "And your sister?" "She is in the city?" "Has she married again?"' "Married ? Oh, »oT She begs; she has her little child." "Begs! Poor thing!" "What is she to do? "Wecannot sup­ port her; she does not belong to us now, and the Hotti will not keep her. But I haA.e avenged the iosalt--I've shot her husband. Truly, honor and dishonor are arbi­ trary words! My companion is, accord­ ing to his own code, a man of strict honor. His sister has been repudiated * . * - j . by her husband without cause or reason, and he feels that he has done every­ thing that he can be expected to do when he had shot the erring husband and left the poor woman to escape starvation as best she may by begging in the streets of Soodra a bare subsist­ ence for herself and &hild! The Farm Workshop. Absurd things are written about the farm workshop. The farmer cannot be proficient in half a dozen trades, nor can his son do fairly good carpenter or blacksmith work without practice. Some people seem to think that nothing is necessary but to get the tools, aud the needful skill will come with them. The absurdities written about the farm workshop would not merit notice were they not likely to lead us too far in the other direction, says the American Agriculturalist. It is not good policy to go to the black/smith shop every time a piece of iron is to be mended, or to the carpenter to make us a bench. The charges of the carpenter or blacksmith are of less importance than the loss of time. Every farmer who owns a large farm should have at least one farm blacksmith outfit. The farmer may not find it profitable to sharpen the ploughs, but he should be able to weld or rivit together pieces of iron or steel, to mend chains, shanks of forks and hoes, whiffle* tree clips, clevices, etc., etc. He ought, also, to be able to make rings, links, hooks and pins. The necessary tools cost little, and the skill necessary to such little work is soon gained. In wood many simple little jobs are easily done. , It is by no means certain that the farmer should not go fartliei in wood-working. Handles for axes, forks, rakes, etc., whiffletrees, and sim­ ilar articles can probably be bought more cheaply than the farmer can make them; but generally he can make bettei than he cam buy. He can select the choicest timber and season it properly. It is a good practice to save the tough­ est, best pieces when splitting out rails or posts. With an assortment of copper rivets, some awls, thread, and wax, any strap about the harness can be joined. This much leather-working is always profit­ able. If the farmer will give the tools to the boys, the sense of property will stimulate them to practice using them. One boy may have the carpenter's tools, another the blacksmith's tools, etc. If . the boys choose to use their tools on rainy days, when otherwise they may rest, all right; but don't com­ pel them to. Making this extra work, of course makes it distasteful. The hint so frequently seen that with tools the boys can make or mend when they cannot do farm work, is altogether bad. If made use of it will defeat your pur­ pose ev€?ry time. Why She Kicked. One of the officers of Boston's "finest^ is responsible for the following story: "When I was new in the business," paid he, "I used to patrol a beat at the West End. One morLing about 9 o'clock as I was walking along leisurely, thinking of nothing in particular, my attention was suddenly attracted to a little lady who seemed to be trying to attract my attention. She was dressed in deep mourning, and her fair, pale cheek, with just the faintest tinge of rose upon it, showed that the death angel had taken some one from her whom she dearly loved. She was evidently a widow, and an exceedingly pretty one at that. As I saw her approaching I stood still and waited for her to come up Svith me. When she had reached my side I looked down gravely at her, and inquired if I could be of any service to her. "Yes, please," she said. "I want to have a man arrested." Is that so?" I exclaimed. "Who ia it?" "His name- is Brown, sir; Henry Brown." 'What do yoa wish him arrested for?" I asked. 'Breach of trust," Bhe replied shortly, and then seeing that I waa about to question her further, she con­ tinued: "You see, Mr. Policeman, my husband has only been dead a little over a month, and naturally I felt very bad at losing him. Then it was that Mr. Brown came and offered me his sympathy. At first I did not like him in the least, but he was so good and kind that I could not help it. He wanted me to become his wife right away, but out of respect to the memory of my dead husband I made him wait a few weeks longer. In the mean time he borrowed some money of me and now he refuses both to marry me and pay me the money." You may be- sure I was surprised, at d I expect I stared at the woman in much the same manner that I would the ani­ mals in a menagerie, as I said, "Well, this is ahead of anything I have heard for some timei" The little woman looked up in my face and innocently said: "Yis, it does beat all; I don't care anything about the loss of tlie money, you know, but I li&to to be made a fool of." l< •r' , /v i f f* r~:vr. f '1J . • ~r A Belationsnip Ended, Now then, Jennie," said the brid»- groom to the bride, after they had re­ turned from ehurch where the knot had just been tied, "how many brothers have you?" Brothers," exclaimed the bride in astonishment, "you know I haven't any brothers. I'm the only child of my parents."" Oh! I know that, but how many young men did you promise to be a sister to before you accepted ir\e? Those are the brothers I want to know about." "Well," replied the bride, smiling, "1 think I must have about half a dozen of brothers." All right. You drop a note to each of them and tell them the brother and sister bnsiness is all off now, as you have got a husband. If they want sisterg tell them to look around among the girls that are single. ' I'm all the brother you need now."--Boston Cour­ ier. Hot So Poor as He Seemed. Lord Lonsdale was said to have more daughters than any other member of the British aristocracy. At one time he was at a flArmwi watering piece and took a walk in com­ pany with his six oldest daughters. Some Germans, a little behind him, gazed at the procession, and presently one of them remarked in^an undertone: "Alas! poor man." Lord Lonsdale caught the words and turned immediately. "Oh, no, sir; not so poor as you think. I have six other daughters at home*"-*- Youth's Componion. • WHEN a rich man dies the "immediate friends" are on hand, immediately, to weep at the funeral and listen tearfully to the reading of the will. They are in no immediate haste* however, if the ;r />** . 7.; ^ '1 " i. y f \ * * *, •The Burly Life of Gounod. In the winter of 1825 when barely 7 years old, Gounod was living with his parents in the Rne des Grands Augus- tins, that old and gloomy district on the Seine in wliidh his infancy was spent. One evening his^mother took him to the neighboring theater, the Odeon, where Freischutz, in Castil Blaize's atrocious translation was being played for the first time in France, under the title of "Iiobin des Bois." In those days it was the custom to disarrange, under the pretense ef arranging, the lyrical mas­ terpiece of Germany, and goodness knows how many crimes of treason to art were then committed by managers without faith and libretists without conscience. One musician went so far as to "adapt" Don Giovanni to the stage of the opera. In this imperfect rendering, Freischutz was indifferently performed by singers whose names have passed into oblivion. Yet at this per­ formance the future author of Faust ex­ perienced his first artistic emotion, a "simple sensation" {ts he eays: "For at that time of life the power of reflection had not yet come into existence. Just as rays of light are doubled in intensity when reflected in a mirror, so feelings are all the deeper and keener in pro­ portion as the man possesses the faculty of introspection. Therefore, it is a mis­ take to believe that sensibility becomes blunted as years advance; it only be­ comes finer and more delicate, provided of course, that the intellectual powers remain intact. That is why love, in early youth is imperfect, being then purely external and superficial, and not enlarged by the crystalization wrought in a soul when it is fully developed." To go back to the sober little lad, taken to the theater as a reward, say, for some good copy-book writing, and who, stirred to the depth of his semi-con­ scious child soul, was filled with a kind of religious ecstasy and plunged into speechless adoration. This listening to what is probably the purest of lyrical dram&s^jtaS a happy initiation into the splendors of music. The fantastic scene when the magic bullets are being cast probably caused him some alarm; he does not, however, remember it. What especially caught his attention was the hunters' chorus. "Are they going to fire?" he asked in terror. But the calmness of the music dispelled his fear, and he listened with rapt atten­ tion; not a single one of the exquisite details of the orchestration escaped his ear. Some time afterward when he took up the score for the first time all came back to his memory as clear and precise as if he had heard them the day before. From this fact we can judge how keen the sensation must have been at a time when the faculties of conscious reasoning are non-existent. Sixty-five. years have since passed and this in­ stinctive admiration that the child felt has only become strengthened in the man of mature years and thought.-- Fortnightly Beoicvo. Deacon Dudley's Squash. The first acquaintance I met at the Sagadahoc Fair was Deaoon Dudley. If he had owned the grounds and held a mortgage on the building and its con­ tents, he could not have appeared more well-satisfied. "Walk right in," was his hospitable greeting as I approached the, entrance. "I've got the biggest curiosity ever shown in the county, and I want you to see it before the crowd gathers. I raised it myself," he explained, "from seed sent by my wife's brother, from California. You'll get some idea of its length when I tell you that I brought it here in a box three feet and a half long. I packed it in hay, so's to keep it from scariu', and when I took it out 'twas smooth as a smelt and shiny as a glass bottle." By this time we had reached the farm produce department, and the Dea­ con's tongue and legs came to a stand­ still together. I asked the name of the wonder he had described. "Well," he replied, scratching his head perplexedly,- ' it was a squash-- the longest I ever saw--but what shape it's in now, or where it's gone, is more'n I know. I left it right here, with my name tacked to it. You hold on a min­ ute while I hunt up the committee and see if anybody's responsible for prop­ erty left in this 'ere building." The good man disappeared, and for half an hour I scarcely stirred from my traces. At last I grew tired of waiting, and ventured to move about with the rest of the folks.' Growing bolder by degrees, I finally drifted with the crowd outside the hall, and in the course of an hour or two I forgot all about Deacon Dudley and the miss­ ing squash. It was late in the afternoon when I met my friend in the neighborhood of the sheep pens. At the sight of him my conscience smote me, and with genuine solicitude I asked if he had found his treasure. The Deacon looked rather foolish as he said: "I suppose you mean the squash. Oh, that's all right. They'd moved it to another place. 'Twas no great matter, anyway." As he seemed much embarassed, and turned away without urging me to ex­ amine the specimen, I determined to seek it out without waiting for any fur­ ther invitation. When I found it, I was at no loss to account for my friend's confusion. By the side of his squash-- which really was of remarkable length --lay another squash, at least eight inches longer.--Lewiston Journal. A Solemn Conjunction. At the Club one evening last week several members were expressing their opinions as to the probable effect of the Australian bystem of voting. One thought it would help one paAy and another thought it would have the op­ posite effect. Another thought it would decrease the total vote, while another expressed the opinion that it would have no appreciable effect in that direc­ tion. "I tell you what it is, fellows," said one, who had been listening; "you don't know anything abojit it. When a man is alone with his God aud his lead- pencil you can't tell what he'll do." --Boston Budget. Hon Could He Befuse. She--We are going to have some private theatricals at our house next week, dear. Just a few scenes from Shakespeare; will you take part? He--What are you going to act? "Cleopatra before Csosar!" "Who is to play Caj-jar?" "You, if you will come." "Well, I should say 1 would.--Carl Pretzel's Weekly. , MANY proverbs speak of the fickleness of women, but surely this is a libel on j their constanoy. A popular one reminds ' us that "A woman's mind and winter change oft." 14 THE hues of sunset make life great; so affections make some little web of cottage and fireside populous, important wadft^iiigthe jaaiuBpaee iu oufhirtosy. Hie FearkssOerdon. What wat the secret of his wonderful power? Much of it lay in his fearless­ ness, much in his swiftness of thought and action, and much in what the Yan­ kee would call his capability in all things, small as well as great. He could ride and shoot and tinker and conduct campaigns and negotiate treaties, all with unhesitating self-reli­ ance. As a matter of course such a man takes command. Gordon never lacked opportunitias to show these qualities. When steaming quietly up the Nile a monkey with which he was playing fell overboard. In a twinkling Gordon was in the water after him. By good luck the crocodile* got neither Governor- General nor monkey. When a nugger was being hauled up the rapids some way, south of Lado, the cable got away from the men on. the bank and the ves­ sel was swept On the rocks. No one would volunteer to go out and pick up the cable, and Gordon jumped into a skiff and went alone. To be sure ,the skiff upset, and the Governor-General sat some hours dripping on a rock, but his men had a lesson. On another oc­ casion the garrison of one of the stations was thrown into much anxiety by seeing Gordon alone, rowing across the river to the east bank, which in that region was occupied by intensely hostile negroes. He landed, made his boat fast, and tried by a display of beads and wire to induce the savages to come and talk with him. They simply sat on the hill-side and scowled. Finally Gordon shot a hip­ popotamus and paddled back, leaving the beads on the shore and a fine feast of hippopotamus meat in the rushes. Another man would have been killed. I was amused to see on his table at Khar­ toum handsome spoons and forks with his crest half effaced by rough scratches. I could faucy Gordon, vexed by some unusual flummery, seized a rat-tail file and proceeded to put out of his sight one more vanity. It was not that Ii8 was not proud of his family. On the contrary, he could pay a man no greater compliment than to say, "You are like a Gordon;" but all the marks and signs of rank sometimes became intolerable to him.--Col. S. G. Prout, in Scrib- tier. The Feeding of London* If London were to be besieged the lines of defense would contain 5,000,000 of people. How would they be fed? It costs as many pounds now to feed London for a twelve-month as there are miles from earth Jo the sun 1 What would it cost then ? If this country were to lose the command of the seas the people would starve. A blockade would knock off a third of the meat supply and all the groceries; that popu­ lar guage of prosperity, the quartern loaf, would at once treble in price, and fruit and vegetables would be a luxury. And in the stress London would come off the worst. Not long ago a snow storm nearly caused a famine in the metropolis, and now a three days' fog in the Thames Valley would put them on half rations. To live they must hold the roads t)y land and sea, and keep them clear; if once the roads are blocked, they are done. And just as London can not exist without the coun­ try, so the country can not exist with­ out the colonist or the foreigner, for Britain alone of the kingdoms of the world feeds on more than it can grow, and only lives as a citadel of an ocean empire. The country is fed a good deal from abroad; London is fed almost en­ tirely from the outside. London within the lines--for, strangely enough, owing to the physi­ ography of the Thames Valley, the for­ tifications of "the metropolis would fol­ low the outer boundaries of the metro­ politan boroughs--grows hardly any of its food. The ever-advancing builder has appropriated the market-gardens and run streets through the corn-fields, so that beside a few dairy farms and water-cress beds there is no area left for the produce of food within the only possible lines of defense. By the road, the rail and the river all but an infin- tesimal part of London's commissariat is carried in; and the consideration oi how it is carried in times of peace will enable us best to appreciate what tlie difficulties would be in time of war. Oriental Jnstice. Dr. Henry M. Scudder relates a case of Oriental justice that could hardly be outdone for sharp and subtle discrimina­ tions. Four men, partners in business, bought some cotton bales. That the rats might not destroy the cotton, the purchased a cat. They agreed that each of the four should own a particular leg of the cat, and each adorned with beads and other ornaments the leg thus appointed to him. The cat, by an acci­ dent, injured one of its legs. The owner of that member wound about it a rag soaked in oil. The cat, going too near the fire, set the rag on fire, and, being in great pain, dashed in among the cot­ ton bales where she was accustomed to hunt rats. The cotton thereby took fire and was burned up. It was a total loss. The three other partners brought au action to recover the value of the cotton against the fourth partner who owned the particular leg of the oat. The judge examined the case and de­ cided thus: "The leg that had the oil rag on it was hurt; the cat could not use that leg --in fact, it held up that leg and ran with the other three legs. The three unhurt legs, therefore, carried the fire to the cotton, and are alone culpable. The injured leg is not be blamed. The three partners who owned the three legs with which the cat ran to the cot­ ton will pay the whole value of the bales to the partner who was the pro­ prietor of the injured leg." Proper Course to Take. "What became of that servant girl you had, Mrs. Zoil?" "I had the poor creature put in an in­ sane asylum." "Mercy! Was hers a bad case?" "Very. I suspected something when «he cleaned the step's scrubbed the stairs, did the kitchen work, and waited at table without asking for more wages. But when she said she had no cousins, j and never wanted more than half a day out each week, I knew what was the matter and acted accordingly."-- He Was Careful. Person--Intemperance has been the ruin of many who commenced life with excellent prospects. Hope, John, you are careful iu regard to drinking? John--Careful about drinking? Oh, yes; there's nothing I'm more careful abought. You don't often see me get left on a Saturday night without some­ thing to do me through Sunday. I tell you a man needt to be carefal these times wl\en they close up sharp, or hell have to go thirsfy.-- Grip. # THE propensity to evil or dishonor­ able courses ia muoh more Jo be de- plprftd Cbari the acts wh|oh pome of it. J'.'P' PITH AKD POiSf. , ^ : ' ,.;'.-."-v - " A l>tBPii4ir head--the dram major. ' • THE silver question---solid or plated t PRISON fare might be called checker board. MANY an old flame has earned * rnHK' .- away match. THE individual who dispises a maa who wears a ragged coat is the tailor whom he owes for it. THE accomplishment of a diffiflnlt feat sometimes puts a professional gymnast On his feet. FIRST Thief--How ia your baby get ting along? Second thief--First ratet He has got so he reaches ont for things already. I HAVE made a conquest," said the brick wall. "How so," queried the stone pavement. "An egg was mnahed on me to-day." "I WONDEB you don't like Mr. Chasu­ ble. I think that man carries the odor of sanctity about with him. "Perhape so; but he mlust keep it corked np very tight." WICK WIRE--What makes yon keep that light burning in broad day light, • Finklestein? You don't need ir. Fink-.., lestein--No, ve tondt need it, but pays for it by der mondt. WIFE--How do you like the medi­ cine the doctor left for you? Husband First rate, There is an unmissable taste of whisk-- I mean, I guess it will bring me around all right. JONES--I say, Robinson, you ought to go as a (.missionary to some of the cannibal islands. Robinson--Why so? Jones--Because you are so crusty that the natives wouldn't eat you. "WHAT are you doing now, Goal" said one young man about town to another. "Oh, I write for a living." "On the daily press?" "No; I write to father about twice a month for a remit­ tance. NEW floor-walker (recently oaptain of a hose company)--What would you like to look at. Madam? Customer--I would like to look at some hose. "Her% boy, conduct the lady to the fire de­ partment." "JOE, you were up with Miss Jankina until 12 o'clock last night." "Yes. I was trying to outsit another fellow.* "Oh, that was it, eh? I've been there myself. Who was the other fellow?" "Her father." • A SENTIMENTAL Hibernian kicked his wife down stairs, when he was decid­ edly how-came-you-so, and then tried to coax her into forgiving him by salut­ ing her thus: "Impress of my sole, I ax your pardon!" YOUNG bird (on a tree)--There comes a hunter. We'd better fly away. Old bird--"No hurry. He's got to climb a fence before he gets to us, and his gnu will probably catch in a rail and shoot him. They 'most always do. JUDGE--Do you know the prisonejr* Mr Jones? Jones--Ye3, to the boneu Judge- -What's his character? Jones --Didn't know he had any. Judge-- Does he live near (vou? Jones--So near that I know he has spent less than $5 for firewood in eight years. "No, GEORGE," she muttered, as .the miserable youth knelt in a passionate frenzy at her feet, "I can never be vours." "Well, Clara," he answered bitterly, as he rose quickly, "you might at least have told me so before, and saved me from bagging these trowsers." EX-WIDOW (to new husband)--Oil, how I wish poor John could see us now --how happy it would make him. New husband--Eh, what's that? Ex-widow --You know, dear, John always used to say that he hoped I'd get a better one in his place if he ever went off the . hooks. MY hands are awfully cold," said the pretty girl suggestively on the last quarter of a starlit sleighride. "Why didn't you bring a muff with yon?" asked the practical young man prosa­ ically. "I did!" she snapped, but she wouldn't explain where the muff had gone to, and he has been wondering ever since just what she meant. Wanted to Shoot Lew Wallace. In patriotism Mrs. Lew Wallace and her husband stand shoulder to shoulder, differing only in his wearing the straps. She had need of all her courage in some of their hair-grizzling experiences in New Mexico, when her husband waa Governor there. They found border ruffianism in all its pristine glory, and Gen. Wallace set about breaking up the business. One of a gang who boasted he had killed a man for every year he had lived (he was then 21) pledged his word and honor as a desperado that he would track Wallace till he had shot him, with so much at stake they played very earnestly and Ben Hur "wore his beaver up" and pistol cocked for Finally he took lodgings in the same hotel and at night Gen. Wallace closed the door of his room. His wife speak­ ing of the heat opened it and lie quietly said, "it's best not to have it open, is in the house watching his chanee to shoot me." We can fancy the alacrity with which she then shut the door and that she probably corked the keyhole, as Miss Pecksniff did the wine bottle, with a curl paper! With rifle at hand and pistol under his pilloir Gov. Wallace lay down and slept-- better than his wife did you may be. sure.--Emily Meigs Ripley, in L&*. dies' Home Journal. The First Greetii g. When he stepped off the train lie toq ̂ in the surroundings with one long/oonf prehensive glance. "Ah, the old town has changed some? what in five years," was his first re­ marked, "but it still looks like home. Ah! Home, sweet home! There's no place like it after all. I wonder who of all my old friends will be first to greet the wanderer on his return to his native heath, where all his affections are centered--" "Excuse me, but ain't you John Todge?" , "I am." , "I heard yon were ooming baek lesi'-'/ day, and I thought I would be the lint one to meet you as you came in." "Yes?" "Yes. I got a little note here of yours for $30, with five years' interest, and if it's more convenient for you to settle than to be sued, why aU right." There is no place like home.-- Haute Express. She Was Not Able to Support a band. " Altd Vhat answer do yon make to my- appeal ?" he asked as he knelt at, her feet. ̂' " James, I will be frank with yoa^/ e h e m u r m u r e d . „ • . "Oh, speak!" he implored, "and r®» lieveme from this agony of suspense#* "Then let ire say it cannot be." : ; "Why not! Oh! why not!" * "Because, James, I do not feel ahli ̂ ̂ to anrmort A hMbnnd.9 i / " ' * - b - A - V1. ...A . T.T > ....Sri ^ ' vj/'l, 1^':. ,£t