Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 October 1883 — Page 6

VK£ Ii IXC V I'i.Y V BT THOMAS DUSK ENGLISH. Bald the Poker at the jamb to the Kettle on the hob: “Idle thing. While I labor at my hot and grimy Job Yon do nothing mor j than sit content and sing. While with titry coals I b*t:le , There your lid yon gayly rattle; Qr you go to sleep and or am, With yonr nostrils breathing steam. Plsasant work is all yon uo— Ah! If I wore only yon! this acginera e day M rit never wins its nay; Bence you queen it, whili a quiet drudge I am; “But i’ll strike. If 1 like!" Said the ciscortteniei Poker at the jamb. 6aid the Kettle on the hob to the Poker at the jamb: “Crusty thing! While engaged in boii.ug busily I am Or, to give them warning, e ..eerily i sing While I clatter, i i*s, or bubble. Never grudging time or trouu e. There you Idly stand and wait. Lazy, sullen, stin and straight; Or, If in the embeis t, rust, Ashes scattering anti dust All above, around, I elow, Showing, plain as steel can show, Neither pleasure nor willingness in the job You may stuke, if yen like!" Said the pert and noi -y Kettle on*tho hob. Said the Mantel-shelf above to the jarring-twaln below: “Silly pair! Do you really fancy, when you quarrel so. That the i* ople cither notice you or care? If, your duty close pursuing, You > our talking ieit for doing, Had no envy, each for each, Some content at least you ieach. Go to work, and with a will; You have each his place to till; Yours, the Poker, is to toll. That the Kettle quicker boil; Yours, the Kettle, is to boar a heating sere. Not to strike if you like!” Said the Mantel-sheli. and then it said no more. Then tlio Poker at the jamb and the kettle on hob Lost their ire. Though the ICettie gave a short, convulsive sob, As It shook itself and settled.on the hre. With the coals the Poker wrestled Till the Kett.e lower nestled, And its spite forgotten scon. Hemmed the brst r.otes of a tune; Working aft into a glow. There the Poker s:irrecl below; ’Gainst the bars it beat and rang Till the Kettle' chirped and sang, And the good wite said: “This is a sight to please! Let them say what they may; Never was there in a kitchen sucu as these!” —hew 1 ork Ledger.

A GooD SHOEMAKER.

How a Trade Well Learned Brought a Fortune. I was born in the Luxembourg just about fifty years ago. Goodness! how I used to work at the bench when I was a lad, sewing aud hammering, hammering and sewing on boots and shoes. There was that dear old father of mine, with his steel-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose, who set me an example of thrift and honesty. “Above all," lie used to say to us, for a brother then worked with me, “tie a good shoemaker. Never scamp anything. Do the best you can, and do it all the time. ” •We would work from sunrise until far into the night. The pay we;got was little enough—son smp.ll: that, we used to watch -the candle that fluttered in the worry over its cost., If we worked very hard, an£ custom was good, 'dfe might count a gain of 2> sous each; but sometimes we would all stop pegging away, because the poor people in our village had no money to spend for shoes. Oh, how difficult it was to buy a sack of coarse flour or a little scrap of meat! We lived from hand to mouth. Poor old father! Do what we could to help him, he got into debt, and owed at one time as much as -80 francs. What a lmge sum that seemed to me to be! What a whole mountain of embarrassment! I starved, myself in order to put a little money aside. One day I said to father: “This thing don’t work. lam going to clear out, I can’t stand it.” “You will leave me, my son? Your old father is an incumbrance to you?” “No, not at all. But I must go away to work for him. ” “It is well,” replied my father. “You are a good shoemaker. Your stitches are strong and even. You shape well. Go see the world, and God’s blessing .accompany you. ” I went to Paris, and led a miserable /life there for a time. I hardly gained >my bread at first. The habits of the Parisian shoemaker horrified me, for I ihad been brought up by a pious father. T was a good workman, however, and : after a wliile found steady employment; <but I could help poor father but very little. Ob, it used to make my heart sore to think of him cramped up in his little dingy room, working away for dear life, with a meager reward of a crust of bread. The habits of economy he taught me helped*me then. I ■scraped together sou by sou, and at last sent him 10 francs. He wrote me that the sum had saved him from being turned out of his poor old chamber. ■“This will never do,” said I. “I must go somewhere else. lam a good shoemaker, and my experience in Paris has given me the finishing touch. I must go somewhere else, where the art of Crispin will be appreciated. ” One fine day in 1850 I took a place as landsman on an English bark, from Havre to Boston. I landed in the United States with just 40 cents (2 francs) in my pocket. I sought work at oace. I saw in a little shoemaker’s shop up a narr<yw street a sign written on paper and stuck on the glass with wafers. I could not read it. I did not kuow a single word of English then, but over the door there was a German name. I made bold to enter, and talked. German to the proprietor. “Sit down,” he said, “on that bench, ■and sew me on that sole.” “I am a ffir shoemaker, and you will see,” I replied. It was a pleasure to take hold of the tools once more; they seemed to know me. How I blessed my father then! My boss was satisfied, and I got a job right off at $1 a day and my food. This was a fortune to me then. I worked for six months steadily, and, save for a second-hand pair of trousers, bought by me at a bargain, I hoarded every penny. I sent the dear old father SSO, and back came his blessing. He wrote he had never seen so much money at one time in his life. But I was ambitious. Just then the California fever was raging. •Something told me to go to the Pacific coast. I took ship and crossed the isthmus. Just before arriving at San ’Francisco there was a heavy gale; we came near being shipwrecked, and I lost my hat. I remember that quite well. I landed with exactly sl. On

board there was a carousing shoemaker, who had been sent for from the East by a man who kept a shop in San Francisco. I heard him say that he had come before liis time, and that, anyhow, if he could do no better, he was going to work at cobbling. He mentioned the name of the man who was to hire him. and I had his consent to apply for the place. I went to the shoe shop at once and asked for the position. “It is given to another man, who ought to be here soon, and I can’t make use of you. Besides, you have no hat.” “That makes no difference,” I replied. “I see shoemakers’ wages are $6 a day (it was the flush times of Calilornia then); give me $3 and feed me, and only let me stay till the man you hired turns up, for I am indeed a shoemaker. " The boss gave a kind of grudging consent. Then I set to work, and slept that night in the shop. "When the master came to the shop in the morning, he found everything in elegant order, and I had made $5 before breakfast by mending a boot. I suited him exactly, for I am a good shoemaker. I lived with that man for a year, and saved all my money. I sent the dear old fellow at home $100. If you could only have seen the letter that came back! The blessed old daddy wanted to know if I thought he was a spendthrift. That $100 he was going to make do for the next three years! There was a chance I heard of in Sacramento. I went there my master giving me some of his shopworn stock. I did a splendid business. In six months I had made for my share $3,000. My fortune was before me. Poor old daddy was not forgotten. I got a cross letter from him this time. The poor, simple soul wanted to know whether I thought he was going to the dogs. Did I want to make him a drunkard, a gourmand, and put all kinds of temptations in his way? Too much money was the source of all evil. I was robbing myself to pamper him. But for all that there was a lot of sweetness in the letter. Well, I thought that fortune was now mine. But one uight a bad fire broke out and I was burned out. Fires occurred in Sacramento every night, and were the work of thieves. I gathered together the few pairs of boots I could put my hands on, and placed them, with my money, all in gold, in a trunk, and I carried it out of the wooden shanty just as the roof fell in. For better security, I sat on my trunk, and gazed bewildered-like at the flames. “I have something- left,” I said, “after all, to begin tlhe world with.” Just then I was struck a heavy blow over the head with a club, and lost all consciousness. When J came to I found myself on the ground and my trunk gone. The thieves had done the business for me. Ah, then I gave myself just for a moment, to utter despair. “I am ruined, ruined forever; poor old daddy!” I thought. But I was not ruined, for that crack on the head was the means of making my fortune. I didn’t cry over things much, for I am a good shoemaker, and that is always a solid capital. I had a little money in my pocket, and I went to San Francisco. I knew my old master would take me back, and he did so. I resumed my old place. There was an auctioneer among his customers, with the tenderest feet I ever saw, and, as I am a good shoemaker, that explains all my good luck. This auctioneer had been grumbling ever since I left San Francisco. When he saw me, he was delighted. “At least now,” he said, “I am out of my great misery. I shall limp no longer.” At once I made him a pair of shoes, and he was delighted. One day he said to me: “I had au auction yesterday, and I put up, without getting a single bidder, a lot of very fine French boots. They won’t sell, because there is a glut of boots on the market. They were imported a year ago, but the shape is out of fashion now. It was a square one then; now it is a round one. Do you buy them ?” “How much?” I asked. “Make your own price. ” “But I have no money. ” “That makes no difference; you may have them on credit; pay me when you can. ” I went to look at those cases of boots. They were of the finest quality, and excellent as to make. Some of them were cavalry boots, but such as only dandy horsemen or general officers wear. Remember, I am a good shoemaker and know my trade. I bought those boots at $1 a pair. The leather alone was worth twice that. At night I used to work on them. I made the square toes pointed—for I am a good shoemaker. Some of' them I cut down into the bootees. Oh, I worked right after night on them, after hours. Then I hired a small shop, and hung up a few pairs in the window. A Mexican came first. “How much?” “Ten dollars” He took the boots. Then a miner passed. “Fifteen dollars.’’ Then a gentleman on a fine horse came by and looked from his horse at the boots, and he tied up his horse and asked: “How much?” “Twenty dollars.” He put down a double eagle. I must have made $2,500 clear on those boots, and I put in my pocket $6,000 in three weeks. I worked on for a year and made money in my trade steadily, for I am a good shoemaker. Then I got married in San Francisco to a woman I loved, and my married life has been a very happy one. It was with a pang that I said to to my wife, “I must leave you, my love, for a short time —only long enough to pay my dear old daddy a visit.” I left my business in her charge. It was a voyage of business and pleasure, for I went to Paris to buy goods. Poor old daddy! There was the same magpie in the wicker-work basket, and he saluted me, for he remembered me. When I was a little boy I stuck a tail of false feather’s on him with some cobbler’s wax. He never forgot me, and shuffled his feathers at me as soon as he saw me, as if my insult to him had been of recent date. There was hardly a change in the room.

r There hung father’s old wateh, as big as a saucer, ticking away, with a ppray of boxwood over it lor luck. Then there was on the shelf the same old earthenware jug. The handle I broke one Unfortunate day, and a piece of leather was bound round it. He had the same awl in his hand—at least it was the same handle, for I onoe came near getting a thrashing for having whittled it. Even an old almanac of a year long gone past was there, tacked to the wall with shoe brads. He had on the same apron, only it was worn thinner The dear old father was bending ovei his work, pounding slowly on some bit of leather on a last. You could count one, two, three, four between the hammerings. In my time it was rat-tat-tat, like a drum beating, with no interval between the strokes. I strode in, and the old gentleman first looked at my feet. That was a way he had. At a glance—for he was the king of shoemakers—he could take in ajl the differences between your foot and the feet ot the rest of the world. He looked and looked again. He must have recognized a family foot, for I saw his hand tremble. Then he pushed up his steelrimmed spectacles, and the tears ran down his cheeks as he rose and tottered and then fell into my arms. How we kissed one another! “My son, my son, you never would have succeeded had you not been a good shoemaker; you never scamped anytLiug; you did the best you could all the time, ” was what fie said when I told him of my good luck. “Like my dear old daddy did beforg me,” I added. Then I kicked over his work-bench and said, “No more work for you, old pappy, for I am rich. ] have a wife; 1 have a baby—a boy baby, named after you—and you are to take the cars, first-class, to-morrow or the day afterward, and come post h'aste out of the old country to California, so that your grandchild may sit on your knee, and you shall teach him to be honest and pious and to love you.” “And may I not make him a good shoemaker?” he asked. “But you go too fast. Let me think over it. You ask me to leave this old Luxembourg, where I was born. I should never see again the grave where your mother, my good wife, has slept for this last thirty odd years. I don’t know. I am very old. I should be in the way. I love my old trade. Do they wear Bhoes in California? May I cobble there?, I assure you, though the hog-bristles bother me just a little at times, and my hammer moves just a trifle,slower, still I can turn out a very decent job. I wonder if I cannot beat you now. Come, let us try.” To please the old man I took up a bit of work and commenced on it. “It was well done,” said father, admiringly. “I see you have not forgotten my lessons. Perhaps that one stitch there is not quite—quite as even as it should be. My remarks don’t worry you? Still,” and he held out with his shaky hands the old boot near his eye, “it will pass muster.” At last the blessed old man consented to go with me. Next day we had a feast in the village. All the old cronies were invited—the cooper, the watchmaker, the butcher, the drover, the tailor and the tax collector. The curate gave the party his blessing. Oh, what a good time we had! The old man was introduced to every one as M., tlie American shoemaker, who had learned his trade in the Luxembourg.” We kept it up all that afternoon and late into tho evening. It was a feast as that sleepy old town will remember for many a day. Just occasionally I noticed that tbe old man weakened when some ancient chum took him by the hand to bid him good-by. Then I would say: “Dear daddy, it’s your grandchild that claims you. How the deuce do you ever expect that he will be a good shoemaker- without your teaching him ?” That was an all-pow-erful argument. The blessed old man made the trip with me across the ocean with much fatigue. How glad my wife was to see her husband and bis father, and, as to the baby, he went at once into his grandpapa’s arms. Of course, father was too old to go to work, but still he insisted on having his bench. As he grew feebler, the stitches became more uneven, and we were often alarmed about tbe awl slipping, which might have pricked him. He lived, though, happily with us for some years. He grew more unsteady day by day, and wandered a little; but still he would spend an hour or two every day at the bench. He made a goat harness for the little boy, and quite a number of pretty things in leather. One day I heard him in his room tapping, tapping away on his lap-stone with more than ordinary vigor. Then I listened to him. He said: “A good job—a very good job. Capital, though I ought not to praise myself. There never was bnt one man who could equal me, and that was my dear, dear son; and his son, my grandson, shall also be a first-class shoemaker, if the good God, whose -name be blessed, only lets me live a little, a very little longer. ” And then I heard the rattle of the hammer, as if it had dropped on the floor, and I went into his room, and there the dear old man had passed quietly away with a last prayer on his lips. There are no shoemakers nowadays like in the old times.

The Hunter’s Music.

The thunder grew louder. The storm gathered, hovered, burst. In a moment we are wet—'but hark! through the roll of the thunder and the swirl of the rain, there sounds the bay of the hounds upon the mountain side. Old Spot is giving tongue, and that means the game is bear. Young Spot*joins in, and—booom, boooomm—down the can on they come. The younger dogs stop chasing deer and add their sharp voices to the infallible roar of the old trailer who follows on, as sure and as relentless as death. Where else now is music? Where is any harmony other than that of the full-voiced pack a-cry? Oh! Patti, Gerster, Nilsson; oh! Remenyi, Rnbenstein, we love thee all, but no, thank you, we can’t come just now.— American Field. A large proportion of the engineers on the East Inman, railroads are natives.

HOW TO ENTERTAIN AN EVENING PARTY.

SPANISH BLIND MAN. In this game, instead of blindfolding me of the players, his hands are tied jehind him, and in that difficult way be must endeavor to catch one of his ■ompaniens, who must, when caught, rabmit to the same restraint. THK RIBBONS. Each person in the company takes a ribbon, and holds it by one end. The other ends are all united in the hand of one who leads the game, and who, consequently, is placed in the middle of the circle. When he says, “Pull,” they must lht 50; when he says: “Let go,” they must pull the ribbon which they hold. It is astonishing how many forfeits are won at this simple game. THE DOWN FLIES. One of the players takes a flake of cotton or a bit of down, which he casts in the air in the midst of a circle formed by those present who are seated close together. He at once puffs with his breath to keep it floating in the air, and the one toward whom the flake takes its course must puff in the same way to keep it from falling on his lap, which would cost him a forfeit. Nothing is more amusing than to see ten or twelve people, with upturned faces, blowing and puffing, each in his own way, to send from one to the other this flake of cotton. Sometimes it happens that as one cannot laugh and puff at the same moment, the tuft of cotton falls into the mouth of one of the company, who in vain tries to find breath enough to blow it away. This excites the laughter of the other players, who demand from him a forfeit for his gluttony. ARMY EXERCISE. This game furnishes a good joke, but must be played circumspectly, that no offense may bo given, and no unpleasant consequences arise. The company are drawn up in line, with a Sergeant and Captain—the former standing at the head of the line, the latter in front of the regiment, to give the w'ord of command. The two officers.must be in the secret, and act in concert. The Captain gives the order, and puts his men through their drill, they taking the time from the Sergeant. After a few ordinary commands, such as,: “Heads up,” “Eyes right,” etc., the word is given to “ground r ght knees,” whereupon all the men kneel down on the right knee. Then comes: “Eight hands forward,” whereupon the Sergeant stretches out his right arm and hand horizontally in front of him at full length. “Left hands backward.” and the left arms are thrust back as nearly horizontally as possible with the shoulders. Now comes the word: “Fire!” at which the Sergeant g-ives his neighbor a push: he, taken unawares, tumbles against the next man, and down goes the whole row like a house of cards.

Books and Maple Sugar Eighty Year Ago.

In his autobiography, ThurlowWeed gives an interestmg picture of boy-life in a new country eighty years ago. He says: “My uncle had a small clearing, with an extra log-house, into which we moved. My first employment was in sugar-making, an occupation to which I became much attached. I now look with great pleasure upon the days and pights passed in the sap-bush. The want of shoes (which, as the snow was deep, was no small privation) was the only drawback upon my happiness. I used, however, to tie an .old rag carpet around my feet and get along chopping wood and gathering sap pretty well. But when the spring advanced, and bare ground appeared in spots, I threw off the old carpet incumbrance and did my work barefooted. “There is much leisure time for boys who are making maple sugar. I devoted this time to reading, when I could obtain books. I borrowed books whenever and wherever I could. I remember to have heard that a neighbor, some three miles -off, had borrowed from a still more distant neighbor a book of great interest, and, after this book had been read by those better entit ed to the privilege, I started off, barefooted, in the snow, to obtain the treasure. There were spot 3of bare ground, upon which I would stop to warm my feet. And there were also, along the road, occasional lengths of log fence from which the snow had melted, and upon which it was a luxury to walk. The book was at home, and the good people consented, upon my promise that it should be neither torn nor soiled, to lend it to me. In returning with the prize, I wa3 too happy to think of the snow or my naked feet. Candles were then among the luxuries, not the necessaries, of -life. If boys, instead of going to bed after dark, wanted to read, they supplied themselves with pine knots, by the light of which (in a horizontal position) they pursued their studies. “In this manner, with my body in the sugar-house, and my head out of doors where the fat pine was blazing, I read with intense interest a ‘History of the French Revolution. ’ ’*

An Editor’s Invention.

In commenting on the various methods for keeping birds away from fruitbearing trees proposed by California papers, a Nevada paper winds up by suggesting the following plan for ridding the trees of the troublesome little pests: “Let the ranchmen send east to the manufacturers of toy balloons and get them to manufacture a lot of artificial hawks, the bodies of which may be inflated with gas. One or two of these let up into the air 200 or 300 feet, by means of a small cord, will protect whole acres of ground against birds. If there is anything that causes loss of appetite to a small bird it is to have a large and able hawk plunging about over his head. When the rubber manufacturers take out a patent for this invention of ours, either as a toy or a scarecrow, we shall claim a royalty.” —Chicago Times.

Definition of an American.

An amusing anecdote is related of the Hon. Jeremiah Halsey, of this city, during the incumbency of our* fellowtownsman, Henry Buggies, in the Malta Consulate. At a dinner party, at which

were Messrs. Halsey and Buggies and other Americans and foreigners, there was some chaffing among the guests about their nationalities. In the course of the talk some of the guests boasted of their American citizenship. Thereupon an Englishman turned to Mr. Halsey and inquired, with jocose superciliousness, “Ah! what is an American?” “An improved Englishman, sir,” was the prompt retort. The keen reply provoked roars of merriment among the assembled party.— Norwich Bulletin.

Coaches in the Bays of George IV.

Hackney coaches were always drawn by a pair of horses, for the most part miserable-looking creatures, which it would have been cruelty to urge to any speed, though I fancy they were capable of keeping up their jog-trot for a considerable time. The drivers were usually elderly men, attired in stonecolored greatcoats with many capes. I also just r. member two or three sedanchairs waiting for hire near the old squares at the wost end of town, but they were worn and shabby, though with likeness enough of their better selves to recall Hogarth’s pictures to mind. There were stage-coaches from certain central points to the suburbs running several times a day, but seldom starting on their last journey later than 8:30 o’clock p. m. Small chance was there of procuring a place in the “last coach” from any suburban district without the preliminary ceremony of booking it. There was always, however, and at all hours of the day, one hope—though often a forlorn one—for the tired wayfarer, and this was a “return chaise.” The phrase familiar enough fifty or sixty years ago has no meaning now, but when railways were not, and the wealthier classes traveled chietlyby aid of post horses, the empty postcliaise on its return journey was ofl en to be seen on the highroad. The postilion, to be sure, always kept his eyes open to catch any sign from a pedestrian going the same way, for it was a common thing for the roomy yellow chariot to halt and a little bargain be struck, in accordance with which the pedestrian obtained “a lift.” —London Society.

Wages in Paris.

In the jewelry and silversmith trade, an important one in Paris, apprentices, as soon as they begin to work on their own account, receive 4s. a day, experienced foremen earning from 12s. to 245. per day. Type-setters get from 6s. to 12s. per day, and pressmen something short of this generally. Wood-engiav-ers vary from 6s. to 12s. a day, but those who take rank as artists earn from 12s. to 245. With regard to the building trade, there is an average wage paid by practically all contractors. The city of Paris is the great employer of skilled labor of this kind, and it now pays to stonecutters 10s. for twelve hours’ work in summer, and Bs. for eight hours’ work in winter. Other masons receive 6s. in summer and ss. in winter, and tinsmiths, marble-masons, and painters and glaziers about the same, with, of course, higher rates for those engaged in the artistic branches, such as fresco and other decorations. In those trades which have to do with interior decoration, the wood-oarvers earn from 10s. to 12s. per day, upholsterers and others at the same rate, while German and Italian workmen get from 2s. 6d. to 4s. per day. Mechanics earn from 4s. upward, according to their special employment and ability. The average day laborer, in all kinds of employment, receives from 2s. to 4s. a day, and foreigners, who arrive in Paris bv shoals, manage to save something to take home. M. Haussonville estimates the number of regular workmen in Paris at 250,000, of those who live by occasional jobs at 75,000, and of beggars and vagabonds at 15,000.

Deaths from Consumption.

The following table shows the total population of States reporting the greatest number of deaths from consumption in the last census year, and the number of deaths per 10,000 inhabitants. Popnla- Died of con- No. per States tion. sumption. 10,000. New York 5,082,871 12,858 25 Pennsylvania 4,282,891 8.073 19 Massachusetts 1,783,085 5,207 30 Ohio 3,198,062 5,912 18 ILiuois 3,077,871 5,146 16 Tennessee 1,542,259 3,767 24 This shows that, whereas the deaths from consumption in the census year were 16 for every 10,000 inhabitants in Illinois, they were 25 per 10,000 in New York State, and 30 per 10,000 in Massachusetts, the highest ratio in the country. Maine stood next with 29 per 10,000, while Rhode Island lost 25, New Hampshire 25, New Jersey 23, Connecticut 21, California 21, Virginia 20, North Carolina 15, and Michigan the same as Illinois, 16, while Florida lest not quite 10, and Minnesota not quite 11 per 10,000. —Inter Ocean.

New Method of Pile Driving.

A French paper gives a description of a method of pile-driving which has been successfully adopted in making the foundations for the Palais de Justice at Brunswick. Instead of the ordinary-pile-driver, a simple framework is erected to hold the pile in position. Attached to each pile by staples are two tubes of about two inches in diameter. These are carried to the pointed end of the pile, where they terminate and turn inward toward one another. Their upper ends are in communication by flexible pipes with the city water-main. When the water is turned on it radpidly excavates a hole, in which the pile sinks by its own weight; but, should any unusual resistance be met with, weights are fastened to the top of the pile. By these means and under favorable circumstances a twelve-inch pile can be sunk to a depth of fifteen feet in ten minutes. Each pile requires, on an average, 200 gallons of water. —London Graphic. The settlement at Moose river is typical of the “plantation” settlement in Maine. It has just two voters, one Democrat and one Republican. Astoria, Ore., has 7,000 population in the fishing season and 4,000 the rest of the year. She has a dozen canning establishments, which yield $3,000,000 a year.

HUMOR.

[From the Nprrla'own Herald.] A fish called the “whistling sucker” is sometimes caught in Walker lake, j Nevada. , It is called a very remarkable 1 fish, but the whistling “sucker” is quite common in this part of the country. “A Bridgeport (Ct.) corset faetory ! has to run till 9 o’clock at night."’ There is one industry, at least, that ; prospers by a tight squeeze. ” A writer in a scientific monthly asks: “How was man distributed on earth ?” Aocording to the account of a recent nitro-glyceriue explosion, he was distributed on the earth iq several hundred pieces; but perhaps this is not the man referred to. “A preparatory school for boys’* in Connecticut is called “The Gunnery.” If the design is to prepare boys for the life beyond “The Toy Pistol ry” would be a more appropriate name, and find more favor with the juveniles. “Officer Blizzard, of Chester, Pa., carves pretty baskets out of peachstones.” This is a less harmless employment than that performed by the Western blizzard. The latter generally carves an ugly path of death and destruction tlirough a flourishing town. A poetess says: “If I were dead, and thou shouldst venture near the coffin where I lay, I should know it, I should feel it.” Not one reader in a thousand will believe this w.ld assertion; and the poetess, in order to secure a reputation for veracity, should die aDd give a practical illustration of her alleged post-mortem gift. A scientific journal explains “why a man can’t fly.” In a great many cases it is because lie is grabbed by the minions of the law before he can escape with the funds of the bank. But there are times, however, when ho succeeds iu flying. [From Carl Pretzel’s Weekly.] Opinions crown with an imperial voice, and onions crown with a stately breath. A cat may take a nap, but a nap oannot be taken where there are many cats around. A man bet SSOO that he could tickle the heel of a mule’s foot while he was asleep. He tickled, and won and lost about the same time. A lady of this city recently filled her lamp with gasoline, and since then sho has not benzine. Be a trifle careful what you say to a lady who is engaged in sewing. She is not herself on such occasion, nor is she what she seams. “Tooth-in, ” shouted a fellow as the dentist applied his forceps. “Toothout;” Exclaimed the dentist as the fellow paid his dollar. ! Once a drummer and a plumber Were a-taikin? ’bout tneir “gall:" Said the plumber to the drummer: “You can’t equal me at ail! — Now when I go out a nlumbin?. All the kitchen girls I hug. An 1 the time 11 ike up gumming ltosy cheeks —in bill I lug! ” Quoth the drummer to the plumber: "On ail lemale.s I’ve the cab; — Both in winter and the summer, Maids and marrons for me bawl; For my samples, sliawis and ribbon I give the damsels whom I’ve ‘mashed,’ Then to ‘boss’ a'tale I write on, Of a robbery—unabashed!" The howlers for female rights and so forth ought to spend a few days on ’Change in Chicago. They wouldn’t be so rampant, as they’d get all the squeeze they wanted.

Nineteenth Century Love and Beauty.

Apropos of the growing powerlessness of mere beauty to sway the male mind, let us give it the benefit of the higher side of the doubt, and ask, “Is it due at all to the increasing artistic sense of the race? Are men really outgrowing the barbaric desire to possess whatever they admire ? Are they learning to admire beauty in a tempera-mentally-artistic way; to regard a live specimen in the ball-room or promenade much as they might a work of art in the museum ? Sometimes it does look as if they were. At no time was beauty more talked about; at no time, perhaps, have men vied more to claim a sliare in the notice of the acknowledged belle; but, as one notes the self-poised confidence of the belle, and the connoisseurlike air of the beau, even when they are one would have to stretch one’s imagination immensely to forecast a possible tragedy lurking in the dynamic quality—to use a George Elliot expression—of the glances they exchange. They measure one another’s forces too acurately. Fancy a modern ball-room Lothario falling so madly in love as to insist upon a midnght marriage, which had to be consolidated with a door-key in lieu of a ring, as did the Earl of Coventry with one of the Gunning sisteHL —Boston Transcript

Wanted a Cheap Funeral.

George F. Barstow, of San Francisco, who left an estate valued at $80,000, gave these injunctions in his will: “Having observed that ostentation and expensive funerals are injurious to the people, often absorbing money which poverty cannot well spare to vanity and pride, therefore, by way of example, for which I beg pardon of the undertakers, let my coffin be a plain redwood box, put together with common hails or screws, without paint or Varnish, with plain iron handles, and all else about the funeral to correspond with this plainness. Let there be a cheap shroud and no flowers. What is a dead man, but a handful of dust? Instead of a hearse I may just as well be carried to the grave upon some ordinary vehicle in every-day use, since life is but a journey and the day of death the final Onb of the most important of the mercantile institutions of Berlin is an Egg Exchange. As the city consumes more than 12,000,000 dozens of eggs annually, it is a business of very great importance. Kentucky Colonels are said to be amazed at the statement that it took Prince Alexander, of Hesse Caassel, thirty years to become a ColoneL M. Worth, the Parisian fashion king, is 55 years old, fat, pleasant-looking, and most impressively bald-headed.