Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1883 — Page 6

THE LONELINESS OF DEATH. rhe silent chariot standeth at the door, Fhe house is hushed and still from roof to floor, None heard the sound of its mysterious wheels. Yet each it presence feels. No ch-imping bits, no tramp of pawing feet, 111 dark and silenc up and down the street, Ind yet thou miry st not keep it waiting there For one last kiss or prayer. Fby words, with somi strange Other interchanged, Btrik? cold across us like loved eyes estranged, • With things that are not fraught; or things that . are. Fade like a sun-struck star. And thou too weak and agonized to lift she cup to quench thy dying thirst, or shift hy pillow, now without our help must rice, Nor wait our ministries. Fhou, loved and cherished, must go forth alone, None secs thee fondly to the door, not one; No head is turned to see the go; we stay Where thou art not, and pray. No panel bars thy white, resistless feit, Qur walls are inist to thee; out on the strca# It waits, it waits for thee, for thee alone: “Arise,let us begone!" Alone, alone, upon thine awful way. Do any show thee kindness? Any stay Thy heart? Or does the silent charioteer Whisper, "Be of good cheer!" t We know not None may follow thee afar. None hear the sound of thy departing car; Only va t silence like a strong black sea Bolls on ’twixt us and thee.

THE BLACK VALISE.

The excellent wife of the Rev. Septimus Medd felt vaguely uneasy on the morning of her hausband’s departure for London. He had never left her for a single day since their marriage upward of ten years ago. He was a mild, easy-going parson, of a timorous disposition, utterly ignorant of the ways of the world, and likely to be easily imposed upon by designing persons. When he came down to breakfast, equipped for the journey, he looked so pale and nervous that his wife said: “I wish I could come with you, Septimus. I feel sure you will get lost, or something. You are like a great child.” “Oh! I can take care of myself, my love, ” said the Rev. Septimus, stoutly. “You can set your mind at rest about me. Beside, I shall be back in a day ■ or two or by the end of the week at the latest.” .' “ Where can I write or telegraph, in case I have anything to communicate?" inqu red his wife. “Well, you see, my darling, I don’t quite know whether I shall be able to get in at the Tavistock,” said the Rev. Septimus, with an air of hesitation. “London is very full at this time of year, I’m told. Perhaps I had better arrange to call every morning for letters at the Charing Cross Postoffice. ” “Very well. Mind you write and let me know what day you are coming back. Here’s the pony-chaise! Now, Septimus, remember all I’ve told you, and see that you get your full share of your Aunt Julia’s estate, for the children’s sake. Don’t trust those London lawyers, and don’t sign your name to anything without thoroughly understanding it. Come, children, say goodby to your father, or he will miss the train.” The Rev. Septimus tore himself from the bosom of his family with considerable emotion, and took his seat in the pony*rap, to be driven to the station. His wife waved her hand as he disappeared from view, and shed a furtive tear on the doorstep before returning to the house. She could not shake off the uncomfortable foreboding that had taken possession of her, and the next day she wrote her husband a long letter, repeating all her injunctions and warnings, and urging him to take care of himself. Three days passed without bringing any news, and Mrs. Medd’s somewhatunreasonable anxiety increased to such .-a pitch that she could not refrain from ;sending the Rev. Septimus a telegram. .If he had been too busy to reply to her letter, he, at all events, would not leave -B, telegram unanswered —the more especially as she begged him to let her hear from him at once. To her dismay, however, her last communication yr as not more successful than the first, and she became seriously alarmed. She felt certain he had not received her letter and telegram, and wondered uneasily what could have happened to him. Had he been suddenly taken ill, or had some more serious evil befallen him ? In the midst of her suspense and perturbation she was startled by receiving a visit from a Police Inspector, who had driven over from the neighboring town. “ Are you Mrs. Medd, ma’am, the wife of the Rev. Septimus Medd?” inquired the officer, on being ushered into the room. “Yes. My husband is away in London. What is the matter ?” cries Mrs. Medd, in an agony of apprehension. “I have had a telegram from the London police, directing me to ascertain Mr. Medd’s address in London, and what his movements are,” said the Inspector, mysteriously. “Why! is anything wrong? For heaven’s sake tell me!” exclaimed the cfistracted wife. “I hope not; but a suspicious individual, giving the name of Smith, has been apprehended in London on some charge or other, and some of the luggage found in his possession is supposed to belong to your husband. ” “Good gracious! He must have been robbed,” cried Mrs. Medd, turning pale. “That is just what we want to find out. Will you kindly give me his address?” “I don’t know it,” exclaimed Mrs. Medd, in despair. “I am anxiously expecting to hear from him. He may be at the Tavistock Hotel in Covent Oarden ; but he told me to address letters to the Charing Cross Postoffice.” “Have you done so?” said the Inspector, making a note in his pocketbook. “I wrote two or three days ago, and have since sent a telegram; but I have had no answer,” said Mrs. Medd, bursting into tears. “We can easily ascertain if he has called there, and also whether he is staying at the Tavistock Hotel,” said the Inspector, in a matter-of-fact tone. “There is no cause for alarm at present.” “Are you driving back to Bilchester ? (Let me come with you,” cried the poor lady, in a painfully-agitated state. “I

shall then hear the answer to your telegram without delay, and, if necessary, I will go up to town immediately. I’m afraid my husband is ilk ” "Don’t be frightened, ma’am; but come with me by all means, if you wish,” said the Inspector, soothingly. “In fact, it will be j-ist as well.” Accordingly, poor Mrs. Medd went off with the Inspector, who, during the drive of eight miles asked her a good many questions about her husband, and plainly showed that he entertained disquieting suspicions which he was unwilling to communicate. What these might be, the unfortunate lady was too frightened to inquire, for her apprehensions were aroused, and she hardly dared even to speculate upon the subject. On reaching Bilchester she determined to consult the local solicitor, who was an old friend and adviser, and she therefore arranged with the Inspector to meet her at that gentleman’s office as soon as he had received an answer to the telegram he was about to dispatch. Fortunately, the lawyer was disengaged, and Mrs. Medd was shown into his room immediately. “How do you do Mrs. Medd? Take a seat. What can I do for you to-day?” inquired old Mr. Brook, cheerily, as he shook hands with his visitor. “By-the-by, have you heard from that husband of yours since he went away ?” “No. "Why do you ask,” demanded Mrs. Medd quickly. ”I’ve had a letter from Simpson & Hall, the lawyers who are administrating the late Miss Julia Norman’s estate in London, you know Brook, taking up a letter from his desk. “They expected to see your husband yesterday, but he -never called. They write to ask if he is in town, and for his address. ” To the lawyer’s surprise, the poor lady burst into tears at this fresh piece of information, which increased her apprehensions. It was no longer possible to doubt that some accident had happened to -heiv husband. In a few words she proceeded to explain to the lawyer the object of her visit, and earnestly besought him to accompany her to London. “By all means, my dep,r madam. I will start this instant if you wish- But you mustn’t give way. I’ve no. doubt your husband’s absence can be easily accounted foy/f sajd Mr. Brook, whose expression, nevertheless, showed that he was thoroughly puzzled. “At all events, we must wait and , see what In; spector Marshall has to communicate. Perhaps you will read the newspaper while I write a letter or two. ” Mrs. Medd strove in vain to fix her attention on the columns of the paper, while Mr. Brook proceeded with his correspondence; and thus a dreary two hours dragged along, at the end of which the Inspector arrived, looking very grave. “I’m afraid you will have to go to London, ma’m,” he said, after respectfully saluting the lawyer. “Your husband has never called at the Charing Cross Postoffice, and he is not known at the Tavistock Hotel. ” “When is the next train?” inquired Mrs. Medd, tremulously. “The express starts in three-quarters of an hour,” said the Inspector. “If you will travel by that, you will be met at the other end by a police officer, who will give you every assistance. ” “But what occasion is there for the lady to go?” interposed Mr. Brook. “I know Mr. Medd perfectly well, and can do whatever is possible. Surely Mrs Medd might be spared the journey.” “Well, sir, you see they want, her to identify Mr. Medd’s things,” explained the Inspector. “They want some one to swear to ’em.” “Beside, I could not bear the suspense if I remained here. I would much sooner go,” said Mrs. Medd, eagerly. “Be it so,” returned Mr. Brook; “I will send a messenger to your house with any note you may wish delivered, and if you will step up stairs to my wife she will, no doubt, be able to lend you anything you may require for the journey.” The lawyer and his companion traveled to town by the express, and on reaching the London terminus they were accosted by an officer in plain clothes, who addressed them by name and said he had a cab waiting. “Not so fast,” said Mr. Brook, who was a shrewd old gentleman, with a good* deal of quiet determination. “Where do you propose to take us ?” “To Bow street Police Station,” said the officer. “I think this lady requires a little rest and refreshment after her journey," returned the lawyer, quietlv. “Beside, I should like to ask you a question or two first. I will order rooms at the hotel, and perhaps you can spare us a few minutes’ conversation. ” “Certainly, sir, only the sooner we get on the better,” said the officer, rather sulkily. “Quite so. Meanwhile, I dare say,’ you will not object to drink a glass of I wine,” returned Mr. Brook, disregarding poor Mrs. Medd’s imploring glance. The lawyer gave his arm to his client and led the way to the hotel entrance, followed by the officer. Mr. Brook endeavored in vain to persuade Mrs. Medd to leave him alone with the detective, but she insisted upon being present during she interview. “Well, now, what do you know about Mr. Medd?” inquired Mr. Brook of the officer, when they were all seated in a private room. . “Nothing at all,” said the man; “I want you to assist me to find him.” “I only know he left Bilchester by the 12-o’clock train on Tuesday,” said Mr. Brook. “If so, I didn’t notice him. The prisoner Smith —the man in custody—traveled by that train, and he then had Mr. Medd’s portmanteau in his possession ; or, at least, we believe it to belong to Mr. Medd. ” “How do you know that?” “An officer had his attention drawn to Smith at Basingstoke, and his suspicions were aroused by the man’s manner, I was ordered to watch for him when the train reached here.” “Well?” “I saw at once he was disguised, and followed him to a private boardinghouse in a street off the Strand, where he took a room in the name of Smith.

Beside the portmanteau he had a black valise, which he guarded with such particular care that I began to wonder what was in it. In fact, I suspected he was one of that dynamite g an ?-” “Had your husband a black valise ?“ inquired Mr. Brook, turning to Mrs. Medd. “No; but he had a portmanteau.” “I kept a close watch on the man,” continued the the detective, “and followed him everywhere. Wherever he went he carried the valise about with him. At length I arrested him. He went to a music hall one night and came out without the valise. He said he bad been robbed of it, and seemed flustered, but we didn’t believe it at the time. W’e thought he had passed it on to some one, seeing we were after him. He refused to give any aecount of himself, or to say what was in the valise. We therefore searched his luggage, and finding a card with Mr. Medd’s name on it, and the initials S. M. on his linen, we concluded the portmanteau and its. contents belonged to Mr. Medd.” “Have you asked the man how he came by the thing?” inquired Mr. Brook. “He denies ever having heard of Mr. Medd, and says the card was given to him by mistake. The initials S. M. mean, according to him, Montague Smith, which he gives as his name; but, of course, that’s all bunkum,” said the officer, with a wink. “What sort of a person is that man Smith ?” demanded Mr. Brook. “Oh, a countryfied sort of chap. Seems as if he came up to London on a spree. Went to the Derby with a rowdy party from the boarding-house, and to theaters and music halls every night; got drunk once, and wanted to fight a policeman. I shouldn’t have arrested him if it hadn’t been for that valiseNow, sir, are you ready?” “If you will kindly wait for me below; I should like to speaji two words to the lady,” ’said Mr. Brook, can cal| a cab if you pl,ease. ”, ’. , fl , . The detective glancedjather uneasily at the lawyer and disappeared, He had barely time to- call a cab, howevbr, ere Mr. Brook descended with Mrk. Medd, who looked very pale, and. her eyes were red from weeping. “Is he a rough-looking man—this Smith?” inquired Mr. Brook, as the cab rolled over the stones. “Well, not exactly that. Stout and red-laced, with sandy hair and whiskers. Wore blue spectacles till he was arrested; but doesn’t seem to have anything the matter with his eyes. Would the lady like the window down ?” “Thank you. It is stifling hot in here, and Mrs. Medd is naturally greatly upset,” said Mr. Brook. “I suppose the prisoner has appeared before a magistrate, and been remanded for inquiries?” “Yes; he wouldn’t open his mouth, so the magistrate had no alternative,” said the officer. “To-morrow he will be brought up again, and charged with unlawful possession of property belonging to Mr. Medd—that is, of course, if the lady can identify the things. ” No further conversation took place till they reached the police station. The Inspectorin charge, a taciturn individual, proceeded without comment to the business on hand, and produced the portmanteau which had been found at the prisoner’s lodgings. “Does this belong to your husband, ma’am?” he asked, solemnly. “Certainly not,” said Mrs. Medd, with emphasis. “What! are you sure, ma’am?” interposed the officer who had accompanied them. “Quite sure. No. None of those things belong to my husband. There is a mistake,” she asseverated as the Inspector silently produced two or three articles.

“I’m afraid you’ve arrested an innocent man,” remarked Mr. Brook, rather slyly. “The only shadow of evidence against your prisoner is that card, which he probably came by quite innocently. ” “Oh, of course, that doesen’t go for much,” said the Inspector, after exchanging a meaning glance with his subordinate. “If the lady says these things don’t belong to her husband, we must believe her. No one else can identify them if she can’t. ” “Then—then this poor man will be released!” said Mrs. Medd, eagerly. “We can offer no evidence against him,” said the Inspector, shortly. “I suppose he will be released to-morrow.” Mrs. Medd, who seemed strangely agitated, was about to put further questions, when the lawyer interfered, and rather hastily led her away. “My dear madam, ” he said sharply, when they were alone in the cab, “you must leave everything to me.” “But—but —he is in prison!” exclaimed Mrs. Medd, bursting into tears. “Served him right!” growled the lawyer, under his breath. “The best thing you can do,” he added, referring to his watch, “is to return home by the next train, if you are equal to the journey. I will bring your husband back safely to-morrow. ” The poor lady who was evidently overwrought, made no objection to the proposal, and the cabman being urged to use his best speed, reached the station just in time to enable Mrs. Medd to catch the train, which was on the point of starting. Having seen her into a carriage, and watched the train glide out of the station, Mr. Brook was standing on the platform, with a gradually increasing grin on his genial face, when the detective touched him on the shoulder. “Lady gone, sir?” he inquired. “Yes. Why do ask?” demanded the lawyer. “Well, sir, putting two and two together, me and the Inspector can see which way the wind blows. As the magistrate is sitting, the Inspector will apply for the prisoner’s release at the rising of the court, and I thought the lady might be glad to know. Might have took him back with her, sir,” added the man, meaningly. “So you have fathomed this wonderful mystery,” laughed Mr. Brook. “Well, sir, I couldn’t have believed a man could be such a fool,” said the officer, looking rather embarrassed. “Why couldn’t he say who he was? W-3

should not have detained him an hour.* “I suppose he had reasons for concealing his identity,” said Mr. Brook. “He knew you had been watching him, and was afraid of awkward disclosures.” “He needn’t have been afraid of that, sir—though he certainly has had a rare spree for a parson,” said the officer. “That can’t be helped, and he richly deserves his fate,” chuckled the lawyer. “It was by my advice that Mrs. Medd did not identify the things. As you appeared to have no suspicion of the truth, it did not seem worth while to let you into the secret. However, as you have discovered it, I suppose we can rely on your discretion. ” “I’m as close as wax, sir,” said the detective, rather indignantly. “I’ll bet a guinea I know now what was in that black valise,” he added. “It contained his clerical toggery and any articles that would have revealed his identity. He must have changed his clothes in the train coming from Bilchester, and carried the valise about with him for fear his secret should be discovered.” “Well, all’s well that ends well, and I don’t think he will repeat the experiment,” said Mr. Brook, smiling. “Bring Mr. Smith in a cab to my hotel, and J will give you a £5 note.”— London Truth.

Non-Progressive Mexico.

The country along the line of the Mexican. Central railroad in the United States would be called a wilderness. For 130 miles it does not run through a field or a cultivated spot, notwithstanding it is a magnificent country—l mean so far as the fertility of the land is concerned. It only needs American enterprise and industry to make it the most productive country on earth, but without foreign energy it will remain as it is until the end ; of time. The Mexicans have advanced less in the arts and sciences than any other nation. They use a plow of the same pattern ifljat old Father Abraham used, and the worst of it is they do not want a better, neither > would they use it if they had it Their general want of progressive ideas and - stupidity is a’great drawback td the railroad enterprises of the country. It is the only labor that can be had, so we have to make the best of it. It looks very ridiculous to see them packing on their backs wheelbarrows filled with dirt, or to see them thrown aside, and the men carrying dirt in their* aprons. They have no more idea how to use a shovel or spade than a hog has. They will in the most awkward manner imaginable get a handful of dirt on the shovel and walk a step or two to the place they wish to put it and hold the shovel with one hand while they rake the dirt off with the other. Neither are the better classes very much further advanced in general knowledge. For an illustration, some time ago several contractors came here from Texas, and brought their outfit, among which were a lot of cooking-, stoves and a very large cooking-range. They were required to pay S4O duty on each stove, but when they came to the ran ge they passed it free of duty, supposing it to be a steam engine. That is one wise thing the Government does allow—steam engines enter duty free. —Cor. Louisville Courier-Journal.

The Cause of Blushing.

The physiology of blushing has long presented a difficult problem to solve. Many unsatisfactory explanations have been .given of the causes of that interesting phenomenon. The British Medical Journal lately received an inquiry as to the measures to be taken for the cure of a chronic tendency to blush, and one of its correspondents takes up the matter in a very practical way. Among other causes of blushing he gives prominence “to the wearing of too thick underclothing, and especially of too thick sacks.” He adds that longsleeved woolen sacks or jerseys are often a cause of blushing, and, in fact, warm clothing in general. He does not fail to remark that the blusher must choose in this matter between the i isk of rheumatism and th e annoyance of blushing. As collateral evidence in support of his views, he says :“An aunt of mine had habitually a red nose from this cause alone, which disappeared when she took to thinner stockings.” Regarding the matter from a social standpoint, the writer says: “The best plan for an habitual blusner is to laugh and be very gushing, as, for instance, on meeting an acquaintance in the street, when he colors up; and he will then feel more at his ease than if he looks sheepish and reserved. ” An obvious cause for blushing q over-sensitiveness and self-conscious ness, which will wear away as the per son becomes used to society and strengthens his character by adopting wise principles of thought and action. The physiological explanation of blushing given by the writer just quoted is that it is due to paralysis of the. sympathetic circles of nerves surrounding the arteries, which, not contracting properly, allow a freer flow of blood to i the surface.

A Story of a Hedge.

The place is full of osage orange hedges. They surround most of the peach orchards—probably to keep people out. “Did you ever try to get over an osage orange hedge ?*’ old man asked me this morning. “No,” I replied, ”did you?” “Yes,” he said, sadly; “I tried once—a long time ago.” “Did, eh?” “Yes.” “How long did it take you to get over it?” said he, sadly. “How long did it take me to get over it?” And the old man looked over the landscape and scratched himself and continued: “How long did it take me to get over it? Why, I don’t think lam quite over it yet.”— Delaware Cor. Pu&k. Db. H. F. Hamilton says that at least once a day girls should have then halters taken off, the bars let down, and be turned loose like young colts. “Calisthenics may be very genteel, and romping very ungenteel. but one is the shadow, the other the substance, ol healthful exercise.” Thebe cannot live a more unhappy creature than an ill-natured old man, who in neither capable of receiving pleasures, nor sensible of doing them to others.— Sir W. Temple.

Famous Escapes from Indians.

‘ Dr. Edward Eggleston, in a paper in the Century on “Indian War in Colonies, ” recounts the following exploits: “Stories es marvelous and ingenious escapes were the romance of the colonies, and such adventures date back to the earliest Indian war in Virginia, where a man and his wife, who had Leen spared in the wholesale slaughter, found their opportunity while the Indians were dancing for joy over the acquisition of a white man’s boat that had drifted ashore. These captives got into a canoe, and soon afterward surprised their friends in the settlements, who had believed them to be dead. Very like this was the escape of Anthony Bracket and his wife in Maine. They were left to follow on after their captors, who were eager to reach a plunder'ng party in time to share in the npoil. Bracket’s wife found a broken Lark canoe, which she mended with a needle and thread; the whole family then put to sea in this rickety craft, and at length reached Black Point, where they got on board a vessel. A little lad of 11 years named Eames, taken in Philip’s war, made his way thirty miles or more to the settlements. Two sons of the famous Hannah Bradley, effected an ingenious escape, lying all the first (lay in a hollow log and using their provisions to -make friends with the dogs that had traced them. They journeyed in extreme peril and suffered for pine days, and one of them fell down Rvith exhaustion just as they were entering a white settlement. A young girl in Massachusetts, after three weeks of captivity, made a bridle of bark, and, catching a horse, rode all night through the woods to Concord. Mrs. Pean, taken at Oyster river in 1694, was left with her- daughter in charge of an old Indian while the rest finished their work of destruction. The old fellow asked his prisoner what would cure a pain in his head. She recommended him to drink some rum taken from her house. This put him to sleep, and the woman and child got away. Another down-East captive, with the fitting name of Toogood, while his captor during an attack on a settlement was disentangling a piece of string with which to tie him, jerked the Indian’s gun from under his arm and, leveling it at his got safely away.

“Escaping captives endured extreme hardships. One Bard, taken in Pennsylvania, lived nine days on a few buds and four snakes. Mrs. Inglis, captured in the valley of Virginia, escaped, in company of a German woman, from a place far down the Ohio’river. After narrowly avoiding discovery and recapture, they succeeded in ascending the south bank of the Ohio for some hundreds of miles. When within a few days’ travel of settlements, they were so reduced by famine that the German woman, enraged that she had been persuaded to desert the Indian flesh-pots and crazed with hunger, made an unsuccessful attack on liqt companion, with cannibal intentions. “The most famous of all the escapes of New England captives was that of Hannah Duston, Mary Neff and a boy, Samuel Leonardson. These three were carried off, with many others, in 1697, in the attack on Haverhill, Mrs. Duston’s infant child having been killed by the Indians. When the captors had separated, the party to whom the two women and the boy were assigned encamped on an island in the Merrimac river. At midnight the captives secured hatchets and killed ten Indians—two men, two women and six children—one favorite boy, whom they meant to spare, and one badly-wounded woman escaping. After they had left the camp the fugitives remembered that nobody in |he settlements would believe, without evidence, that they had performed so Redoubtable an action; they therefore Returned and scalped the Indians, after which they scuttled all the canoes on |he island but one, and in this escaped down the Merrimac and finally reached Haverhill. This was such an exploit as made the actors immediately famous in that bloody time. The Massachusetts General Court gave Mrs. Dustan £25 and granted half that amount to each of her companions. The story of their daring deed was carried far to tire southward, and Gov. Nicholson, of Maryland, sent a valuable present to the escaped prisoners.”

A Few Heated Remarks.

An Austin man was indirectly prostrated by the heat one day last week. It was not so much, however, by the heat of the sun as it was by a remark made by his wife, who enjoys warmcolored hair and a corresponding temperament. They were walking on the street, and his wife endeavored to inveigle him into the purchase of a thermometer by which to more readily ascertain how hot it was. “It is no kind of use to have a thermometer in the house,” replied the man. “It would indicate a much higher degree of heat inside than there was outside.” “Why so?” sharply inquired his wife. “That head of yours would run it up to 375 in the dead of winter.” “It would, would it? you miserable old galvanized cadaver,” said his wife. “I just think myself that it might be just as well not to have a thermometer in the house, for if you ever brought that sizzling red nose of yours into proximity to it, it would run up so that boiling water sprinkled around the room would cool the atmosphere.— Texas Siftings.

Tobacco-Eating Rats.

“Say, mister, couldn’t you put something in that paper about rats eatin’ cigars ?” “What for?” “Waal, ye see, I’ve been hookin’ some o’ dad’s sheroots an’ he kinder got onto it an’ says he’s goin’ to lick me after breakfast to-morrow. Now, if you could stick somethin’ in the paper sayin’ that rats sometimes eat cigars an’ that once there was a bad man licked his boy for what the. rats had stole, ye see the o’e man might light on it m the mornin’ an’ think he’d better take the chance on lettin’ i?.e off. It’d help me out, an’ help you to fill up the paper too. See?"— Chicago Daily News.

HUMOR.

[From the Burlington Hawkeye.? Lower California is said to be full of gold and copper. So is the United States Treasury. That is all the good it does us. “Prisoner, it is charged that you have three wives.” “Taint so, Judge. I an’t so unhappy as I look. I alus wuz a disconsolate-lookin man, but I hain’t got nary one.” A West Hill man refused to buy a velocipede for his son, because be said the boy didn’t know how to take pictures with one if he had it, and he would poison himself trying to learn. W. F. Grant, of Harmony, Me., says he has a horse which has killed and eaten several of his lambs. Probably he turned the animal loose in a Maine pasture and the poor horse had to eat something. The Government of the United States does not own one acre of land in Tennessee. We understand that the Government, as soon as it found that it owned some Tennessee laud, gave it away. It had to be quick about it too, or the State Treasurer would have got hold of it. [From the Aakansaw Traveler.] In de eyes ob do worl’ luck makes a smart man outen a fool. Dab’s only a mighty short step ’twixt selfishness and dishonesty. It is strong selfishness flat makes a man steal. De man wid a thinkin’ mind is neber alone ’cept when he’s in company, an’ is neber in company ’cept when he’s alone. De man what doan care ter be credited wid de work what he himself does ain’t keen ter gin credit ter oder people fur what da do. Too much ’portance can be laid ter de openness ob de qye. De owl is got a heap bigger eye d'en de fox, but he ain’t got half as much sense. De dishones’iman often looks up while de hones’ man looks down. De smtit head ob wheat stan’s up straight, but de real head ob grain bends ober. When a man prube eberything what he says I’se sorter ’spicious, but when he wants ter bet on eberything he says I knows dat "he’s a liar. When a rich man is short in his accounts folks says, “what a pity,” but when a po’ man is short da say, “what a rascal dat feller is. I al’ers know’d dat he was a thief.” Imitation is sometimes prized higher den de ’riginal. De mockin’ bird what crows like de crow fe more ’spected dan de crow, but he suffers on dis account, fur de white folks put him in a cage. It is a pity dat all imitators ain’t shet up. “Snow me a sensible man who is opposed to capital punishment!” exclaimed a lawyer, while in conversation durihg a recess of court. “I am,” replied a gentleman sitting near. “And why so, sir? give your reasons.” “Because I am sentenced to be hung next month.” [From Carl Pretzel's Weekly.] The only way some editors could get out a gritty paper would be by printing it on sand-paper. Jay Gould may not count his friends by the thousand, but they count him by the million. The gray dawn of an intellectual revolution sticks out like the cellar door of the corner gpocery. Be not ashamed to shed an honest tear. If tears are a sign of weakness, it is a noble weakness. An editor who lives three miles from his office, and has to foot it, has no trouble about his circulation. If black is an absence of all colors, we can’t imagine what fun there is in attending a minstrel show. “John,” said the foreman, “where is that article about ‘ Dried Apples ?’ ” “I made ‘pi’ of it,” was the answer. The reason that women operators cannot work as fast as men is probably due to the fact that they sit down and wonder all about the dispatch before sending it, and then keep half of the message to talk about during dinner hours.

Honey, Hunter and Wild Cat in One Log.

“No bobcats (wild cats) for me,” said a Maine hunter. “I’ve been clawed myself; one dose is enough to last all the year around. I guided it up here four or five years ago, and one season I had a young feller come clean ever from Liverpool, but makin’ his stay at Gaspe—one o’ these ’ere fancy sportin’ fellers. He was a powerful sot on shootin’ a bobcat, and from the way he talked I reckon he kind o’ thought; ye had to fire at short range, draw yer bowie-knife, and rush in. Anyway, we was on the lookout for bobcats, and one afternoon we come to a big hollow pine that was across the trail, and I see in a minute there was honey inside. ‘FU crawl in,’ he says, ‘and fetch it aout,* and in he went, and I off intew the bushes to git a piece o’ wood for a scraper. As I come back I cast my eye on the hole where he’d gone in, an’ I see a big-bobcat goin’ in. My gun waa lyin’ right near her and I made a jump, and she commenced to back aout, probably havin’ met him, and I grabbed her by the tail and began to pull, o’ course makin’her scratch. He thought it was me at first, but when she let on ter squallin’ I’ll swanney to swan, there was a circus there for one while, yhou 1 I found I could’nt hang on, so I knifed her and hauled her out dead. And, Lord bless ye, if he’d a seen the Liverpool chap when he come aout ye’d a laughed yer eyes aout. He was honey from head tew foot, but he had a young bobcat, which explained the hull thing, and if I hadn’t been araound he’d been chawed up, sure. ” The Rev. A. P- Happer, D. D., figures out a steady decrease in the population of China. He says the present number of inhabitants cannot exceed 300,000,000. Chief among the pauses of the diminution is opium. He believes that the population of India prill soon exceed that of Chin, athe latter ceasing to be the most populous country on the globe. Capt. Eads has thus far received $4,000,000 for his work at the mouth of the Mississippi