Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 January 1884 — Page 6

MODERN MARRIAGES. O Love! Love! Love! what times were those Long erethe age of belles and beaux. And Brussels lace and silken hose. When, in the green Arcadian close. Yon married I syche under the rose, With only the erase for a bedding I Heart to tf< art, and hand to band, Yon followed Nature’s sweet demand— Roaming loving through the land. Nor sighed for a diamond wedding. So have we read, in classic Ovid, How Hero watched for her beloved. Impassi ned youth, Leander; She was the fairest of the fair. And wrapt him round with her golden hair. Whenever he landed golden and bare. With nothing to eat and nothing to wear. And weld rthau any gander; For Love was Love, and better than money— The s'yer tha-tbief, tie sweeeter the hon y And kissing was clover, all the world over, Wherever Cupid might wander! So thousands of years have come and gone, And still the moon is shilling on. Still Hymen's torch is lighted. And hitherto, in this land of the West. Most couples in love have thought it best To follow’ the ancient wav of the re it. And quietly get united. But now, True Love, you’re growing old— Bought and sold with silver and gold, Lik a a house, or a horse and carriage! Midnight talks. Moonlight walks. The glance of the eye and the sweetheart sigh. The shadowy haunts with no one by, I do not wish to disparage; But everv kiss Has a price for its bliss. In the mud rn code of marriage. And the compact sweet is not complete Till th” high contracting parties meet Before the altar of Mammon; And tue bride must be led to a silver bower, Where pearls and rubies fall in a shower That would frighten Jup.ter Ammon. —K C. Stedman.

"A WITLESS THING."

“A document in madness; thoughts and remembrances fitted.’’—Hamlet, act iv., scene 5. “Now remember, Lord Gray ton,” said the Doctor, solemnly, “all 1 told you. You are very welcome to come to our ball, though, as a rule, we only ask a certain set of wise men and maidens who “know our ways aijd their ways. Still, you are good-looking, humorous, and cheery, and if you are sensible you can enjoy yourself, and, maybe, do them a world of good. I believe 4p electricity as a curative agent—not the quack nonsense of belts and chainsand music boxes, that only shake the nerve centers, but the rfhl electricity of animal spirits, the tonic of good health.’” “I shall do exactly as I am bid,” said Lord Grayton, a handsome, florid, muscular young man, strong as a horse, buoyant as a balloon, just back after a self-imposed exile of five years in India with the big game; “but tell me of all these cqnfounded cautions again. 1 did a lot of dancing of various kinds years ago, before I went after the tigers”— and he laughed as mingled memories of Mayfair and the Lotus club swam back to him—“and I’ve tried both the Corroborec and the Salonga; but 'pon honor I nevey danced with a lunatic girl yet. ” “Are you quite sure of that?”'said the Doctor, grimly; “they are to be met with outside Copswood, I can tell you. However, listen; the rule is simple. Be civil and don’t contradict. If old Crackton asks you to play chess, play. He’s a good player, and will beat you fairly if he can; if he can’t he’ll make a false move and call ‘checkmate,’ and then you must resign. If poor “Snobby thinks you are the Prince, and ‘Sirs’ you all over the place, and throws out nints about being asked to Sandringham ; if you are asked to listen to the chiming clock in Baker’s interiors, or to avmd some one else, because he’s glass and might break, you must do your l est to be courteous to them all, and on no account laugh at their fancies.” “Sounds rather jumpy. And the ladies ?” “I'll see to that, and introduce you to the nicest, and tell you what to avoid speaking about; and men will make the talking for thetnselves, the women don’t talk much.” “Sign of insanity, I. suppose. And what am I to talk about?” “Everything save some one thing—the Empress of Austria, or the stage, or white roses, or Mr. Mullock, or black stockings. I’ll give you the cue—never fear; only it may happen that one of them will ask you to dance, and then yoir must steer as- best you can—talk society or art on chance. My own girls and their friends get on famously with the male patients, and you must do your best. Come, you are going to be our best tonic to-night, and you must be off and dress; 9 sharp, mind, as they all go to bed at midnight. ” “Queer thing this,” soliloquized Gray ton, as he completed an elabo; ate dressing, “beginning my first season after five years by dancing with a lot of lunatics. Hope they won’t wear straw in their hair; if they do I shall

bolt to the Congletons’ dance ” He had many strange adventeres that evening a* he strolled about the pretty ball room at the Copswood private asylum. He was duly defeated at qhess' by the venerable Cracktbn, who deMV-j erately slid back a captured queen W. the board, and performed prodigies <3<sf: valor with her. He sympathized witft’ the gentleman who liad- swaHowetHs 1 crocodile, and he noticed the pale, cadaverous man who amused himslf by counting the lights on each side, of the rqmji and singing softly to himself, “Sorry! can’t admit it, sorry I can’t admit it!“. He had been an acrostic editor once upon a time. He noticed the fussy little man with the pale blue shaven face, who wanted to stage-man-age the sixteen lancers, and who piteously entreated the dancers “to go that all over again, please, and try to get it crispier and the erratic journalist, who wrote paragraphs on his shirtcuffs, and many other fojks that passed by in the most pageant of unsettled reasons. “These’s King Lear,” whispered the Doctor, as “a very foolish, fond old man, four score and upward,” passed them, muttering of “Brighton A’s;” “you'know who he was? 1 ’ and he whispered a name in Grayton’s ear that made the nobleman whistle softly. “And are there any Ophelias, ‘ whose young maid’s wits should be as mortal as an old man’s life?”’ asked Grayton, showing that he knew his Shakspeare as well as the Doctor. “¥ee, but we keep their secret. JjTow go and dance,” and the Doctor took King Lear off for a cup of coffee. It was a sad, weird sight altogether, and, as Grayton watched it, it reminded him of Kaulbach’s “Dance of

Death," and he felt oddly morbid as he thought of his own lonely life. He had once loved and given his heart to a woman whom he had both idealized and idolized; he had youth, brains, and with her he felt he could conquer the world. It was an old story; she turned out to be as loveless as she was lovely, and so he took to the tigers. He had got over it all now, but he shuddered as hei remembered the fret of it all, and thought how near madness he had been driven when he heard of her ultimate fate and where her life had drifted to. So there where Ophelias here! like Audreys, he thought, as* he watched some rather uncouth gamboling in a corner. His eyes wandered round the room and rested on a face. It was an exquisite oval face, somewhat sad and wistful in expression, of that rare, delicate olive color one sees in the South, with the skin of so fine a texture that the red flush springs up through the vein-tracery at a moment’s excitement; the large brown eyes were soft and dreamy, the chiseled mouth was half parted, and the dark-brown hair, looking black as night, was worn Greek fashion close to the head, sweeping in undulating lines past the tiny rose-tipped ears. She was seated on a low sofa, carelessly clasping one knee with both bands. She wore a simple white frock, just mysteriously frilled around the little white column of a throat, and a great black-red rose nestled in her breast. One little higharched foot, in peach-colored netted silk, kept swinging to the music. No one seemed to talk to her except the Doctor, who smiled pleasantly as she passed, and said something to which she answered with a nod. “Ophelia at last,” said Gray ton to himself; and in melancholy vein he wished he were Hamlet, and could lie at her feet and watch the play. “Poor Ophelia! divided from herself and her fair judgment!” (the quotation was irresistible). “I wonder what sent her here—some brute of a man, or a soldier-lover killed at Kassassin. Gracious ! I hope this terrible Meg Merrilles is not going to ask me to dance!” and he moved away as he saw a wildeyed woman bearing down upon him, to a seat somewhere near the pale girl with the black-red rose. For a time he watched her; then he tried to magnetize her. At last their eyes met; he stared her full in the face. She never shrank from his look, only a sort of pitying light seemed to glow in the sorrowful eyes. A moment passed, and then she arose quietly and with perfectly self-possessed grace walked over to him—to his intense astonishment sat down quietly by his side, and said, in a soft, musical voice: “You seem sad to-night; lam sorry.” For a moment he was tongue-tied; then he recollected his instructions and pulled himself together. “Well, I think I was sail because you were looking sad.” “Was I? I suppose I always do, then. Of course being here naturally makes one feel sad. But we won’t talk of that,” she added, quickly. “Do you care for dancing? I’ll dance with you, if you like.” “Dance! with you?” “Oh, yes, if you like; many of the others dance, you know.” “How calmly she seems to recognize her sad state!” thought Grayton, as he stood up and passed his arm around poor Ophelia's slender waist, wondering how she would “jig and amble." They were playing the “Dream Faces,” and as they swung in undulated rhythm to the pretty song he felt tlnrt few slips of sane 17 would come up to her. “That’s right,” said the Doctor, encouragingly; “set a good example.” “Means I’m to be a tonic, I suppose,” thought Graytop; so he carried oft Ophelia for an ice. , “You dance beautifully,” she said. “No, you sit down and I’ll get you the ice; there, now, there’s a spoon and a wafer; now you feel comfortable, don’t you? Isn’t that a lovely valse?” “Yes, I’m fond of ‘Dream Faces;’ the people one meets in dreams are generally vastly nicer than |he real folk. I have many dream friends.” “Have you?” she said, looking amused; “tell md of them.” “Well, you know, I think I’m married to a dream-wife—just like Gilbert’s Princess Toto, you know, with her dream husband. And she comes to me sometimes and scolds me if I’ve done anything wrong in the day; and sometimes she’s very loving, and sometimes she's cross and doesn’t come near me for weeks.”

He felt as if he were telling a fairy tgle to a child. “How charming! iDo tell me more of her. Is sh*e beautiful? What is she like!” ; ’’the fanciful conceit seemed to amuse | irect so he went bit drawing pretty pictures of an ideal woman ; then growfiifg unconsciously eloquent, he burst out; “Ah, if one could only meet her filtVe, whit a wife she would ibake! A very second self, aiding, sympathizing, limping, loving—at once the cheeriest pf chums and the most idolized of idols.” She had flushed a little asdie spoke, but she'weht on, “What a -pretty>, picture ! Where did you get your beautiful thoughts about marriage ?” “I suppose my dream girl taught me.” “Is she pretty?” Grayton wondered if deliberate barefaced compliment would be a good tonic for a lunatic. “Yes, beautiful. She has large brown eyes, wonderful hair, a low voice, an olive oval lace, she dances supeibly, and she wears a black-red rose in her dress. ” A Ophelia looked a little frightened. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be rude, but she is—really, you are not angry xyith me?” and he laid his hand ge tly on hers. “Oh, no;” then there was a pause. “Come, and let me show you some pictures; I’m something of an artist myself;” and she led him into a long gallerv, and talked aft so sensibly and sympathetically that here, at all events, he felt there was a very pleasant method in her madness. “Talking art” is a recognized method of interchanging sympathies. He was no bad judgo of a picture; but he preferred to affect ignorance, ..Ml ’

and asked the stupidest questions simply for the pleasure of hearing her talk. There was a kind of innocent dignity about her that fascinated him, She was more like a vestal virgin than a bacchante. So the evening passed all too quickly, till he suddenly liethought hiumelf that there was an important division in the Lords that night, and that he was bound to be a “not content" before the clock struck 11, and after that he was due at Lady Gongleton’s dance. “Must you go away?” she said; “why?” “Well, you see, I’m one of those much-abused people that the Radicals call hereditary legislators, and I am not abolished yet; I must be in our House at 11.” Of course she could not have understood a word he said, for she murmured to herself, “Poor fellow! so young too!” He rose and held his hand out. “Good night; thank you for a very charming evening.” “Good night,” said Ophelia, tenderly. “I should like a little memory of tnis meeting; will you give me that rose ? I’ve been longing for it all the evening” “Of course I will; why didn’t you ask for it before?” and she took it from her dress and fastened it in his coat. “I shall see you again; there will be another dance here soon. How is it that I never saw you before at one ?” “This is my first dance here, ” he said, gravely. Why it was that Ophelia’s eyes suddenly filled with tears he couldn’t understand, but she left him with a quiet bow and went back to the dancingroom. “You’ve been enjoying yourself, I see,” said the Doctor, as Grayton came to say good-by; “though I must say it was very selfish of both of you.” “Selfish! why, I did all I could for her, poor, dear girl.” “Poor! why, my dear Lord Grayton, she has six thousand a year of her own!” “Dear me! and what is done with it?” “She does what she likes with it; she helps all the big charities, and she helps me and Copswood id particular, and she generallv does a lot of good to our poor people—picks up some one she takes a fancy to, and cheers him up a bit. She’s one of my best tonics, and this is the first time I have noticed that she never danced once with a patient; that was your fault, you know.” “Good gracious! Then, she—isn’t—a a patient herself ?” The Doctor laughed till the tears rolled down his jolly face. Bless my heart, no! That’s Lady Mary Pettigrew, daughter of old Lord Polonius, and she’s just one of the cleverest and sweetest girls in the world. I thought you knew her.” “Not I! She came over and spoke to me, and ” “I see it all—took you for a patient! O, this is too lovely!” and the Doctor,was, positively boisterous in his merriment Grayton bolted to the House, and having duly recorded his vote against the bill sent up from the Commons for chloroforming grouse instead of shooting them, betook himself in a strange state of bewilderment to Lady Congleton’s. His hostess welcomed him warmly, like the returned prodigal that he was, and insisted him to some one in whom*she seemed to have a special interest. “Really a delightful girl Lord Grayton, quite after your own heart—devoted to art and philanthrophv, you know.” Gray ton was too full of thought to protest, so submitted meekly. What were girls to him just then? He was thinking-over Copswood as his hostess took his arm and they set out on a pilgrimage. “Ah! here she! Lady Mary Pettigrew, Lord Grayton. I’m sure you two will get along capitally,” and her ladyship was off, leaving Gray ton staring vaguely at his fascinating lunatic. Lady Mary could hardly suppress a scream as she turned her head and blushed as deep as the rose he still wore in his button-hole. “How—how did you get out?” she asked, awkwardly. “I never was in, Lady Mary; the fact is, I’m afraid there has been a little mistake on both sides. I only found out from the Doctor as I left that you weren’t a ” She put her ffeathery fan up with a warning “Hush!” then said, “What brought you there?” “Curiosity; and you?” “I often go there and try to do some good. I cheer them sometimes; but to-night! O, how wrong and stupid of me!” There was a little pause as he looked at her with his frank, kindly eyes. “Let us forget and forgive, Lady Mary; after all, you were very good to poor Hamlet.” “And you were very hice and kind to foolish Ophelia. Listen! there’s the ‘Dream Faces’ again; let us see if we can dance it in our right minds,” she said, as she rose with a nervous smile quivering in the corners of her lips. And it so happened that in a month they both came to their right minds, and the Doctor was at the wedding.— London World.

One of the Family.

“Say pard,” said an Austin man to a stranger'who was shuffling so slowly along the street that his shadow seemed to be stuck fast to the sidewalk, “don’t you come from the West?” “I reckon you’re about right in your calkerlations, ” he drawled. “I thought so.” “What made you. think I hailed from that region ?” “Because I hear that there has been a shower of snails there lately, and I was sure that you must be one of the family.”—Tea as Sittings.

Spirit.

Spirit is now a very fashionable word. To act wilh spirit, to speak with spirit, means only to act rashly, and to talk indiscreetly. An able man shows his spirit by gentle words and resolute actions; he is neither hot nor timid. Chesterfield. Children of Ham—Trichinsa.

THE BAD BOY.

“Say, come in here while I give you a piece of advice,” said the grocery man to the bad boy, as the youth entered the grocery one cold morning, with an old veteran from the Soldiers’ Home, who went up to the coal stove and rubbed his hands, and turning to the old veteran, the grocery man added, “No, sir, you can’t have any plug tobacco, unlessyou have got the money to plank rignt down on the counter, and I would rather yon wouldn’t come here ; to trade any way, because you look hard, i and smell frowsy, and my customers don’t like to mix up with you.” The old veteran warmed his hands and went out, with a tear m his eye, and the gro- ! ceryman took thebad boy to the back end of the store and said: “You want to let the old soldiers alone. Your pa was in here last night, and he said he was ashamed of you. He said he and your i ma were out riding, and he saw you walking up towards the Home with soldiers on each side of you, holding on your arms, and your pa thinks they were drunk. Now, you ought to be ashamed. Let those old soldiers alone. They are a bad lot,” and the groceryman acted as though he had been the means of saving the boy from a terrible fate. The boy was so mad he couldn’t speak for a minute, and then he said: “You and pa are a pretty crowd to go back on soldiers, ain’t you ? How long has it been since you were humping yourself around this town trying to hire a substitute to go to war for you ? Then a soldier who volunteered was the noblest work of God, and you helped pass resolutions to the effect that the country owed a debt of gratitude to them that could never be paid. Every dollar pa has got, except what he won playing poker before he reformed, he got out of soldiers when he was sutler of a regiment. Every mouthful I eat now is the price of a soldier’s wages, who spent his money with pa for brandy-peaches and sardines. Pa wasn’t ashamed of soldiers then, when they got drunk on brandy-peaches he sold to them, and at that time a soldier would have been welcome to a plug of tobacco out of your store, and now you turn an old wounded veteran out of your store because he hasn’t got 5 cents to buy tobacco. ” “There, there, ” said the grocery man, becoming ashamed of himself. “You don’t understand your pa’s situation, or mine, you see ” “Yes, I see,” said the bad boy, “Isee it all just as plain as can be, and it is my turn to talk, and I am going to talk. The time is passed when you need the soldier. When you wanted him to stand between you and the bayonets of the enemy, he "was a thoroughbred, and you smiled when he came in the store, and asked him to have a cigar. When he was wounded you hustled around and got togethersanitary stores, such as sauerkraut and playing cards, and sent them to him by the fastest express, and you prayed for him, and when he lad whipped the enemy you welcomed him home with open arms and said there was nothing too good for him forever after. He should always ba remembered, his children should be ’ cared for and educated, and all that. Now- he is old, his children have diet! or grown up and gone West, and you do not welcome him any more. He comes in here on his wooden leg, and all you think of is whether he has got any pension money left. Hrs old eyes are so weak he cannot see the sneer with which you, drafted patriot, who sent a substitute to war, looks at him as he asks you for a plug of tobacco and agrees to pay you when he draws his next pension, and he goes out with a pain in his great big heart such as you will never feel unless you have some codfish spoil on your hands. Bah! Y'ou patriots make me tired.” “Y'ou are pretty hard on us,” and the groceryman acted hurt. “ The Government paid the soldiers, and gives them pensions, and all that, and they ought to know better than to get drunk. ” “Paid them,” said the boy, indignantly. “What is $4 a month pension to a man who has lost his arm, or who has bullet holes all over him ? If a train runs over a man’s leg,. the railroad is in luck if it does not have to pay SIO,OOO. What does the soldier get ? He gets left half the time. I am 'opposed to people getting drunk, but as long as pa and lots of the best people in town get drunk when they feel like it, why is it worse for an old soldier, who has no other way to have fun and feel rich, to get drunk ? z lf you had to live at the Soldiers’ Home, and work on the road, and do farm work, for your board, you would get full as a goose when you came to town. Outside of the Home grounds the old soldier feels free. He looks at the bright sunshine, inhales God’s free air, walks upright toward town, and, just as his old wound begins to ache, he sees a beer sign, and instead of the words ‘man that is born of woman is of few days and full of woe,’ coming tp his mind, he thinks of the words of the Constitution, ‘ all men are born free and equal, endowed with certain inalienable rights, among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,’ and he goes in and orders a schooner of beer, like a white man. The saloon is the only place on God’s green earth where the old wounded veteran is free and equal, and he makes the most of it. When he gets full he is the prey of foolish boys, like firebugs, who have fun jeering him, and they snow-ball him, and say, ‘look at the old drunkard.’ If he lays down on the railroad track and is killed by the cars, you read in the paper of ‘another veteran killed.’ Your only anxiety is as to whether he is the same ciiss you trusted for the tobacco last summer, and the soldier is buried without a tear. Now, I have had it drove into ine by the conversation of people older than me, by newspapers and by resolutions that have been passed before I was born, that a soldier is one of the salt of the earth. You may say that the idea is outlawed, and that when you, have got through having use for a soldier that he becomes a thing unworthy to be recognized, but as long as I live a man who fcAight to save my country can have a share of what I have got, and I will help him hom§ when ho is full of benzine, and whip any boy

I that throws snow-balls at him, or calls him names,' if you and pa and the whole gang goes back on me, and don’t you forget it The faded blue overcoat of the veteran looks letter to me, if I am bad, than the swallow-tail coat of the dude, the d amonds of the millionaire, or the sneers of the darn fools who have no souls. You can all class me with barn burners, and cruel sons of rich people who have no hearts, but the smile of pleasure on the face of an old veteran w-hen I kindly to him, and the tear of joy that comes from the broken heart and plows its way down the furrows of his cheek, as he searches in his pocket for a red bandana handkerchief, makes me feel as though I owned a brewery. ” “Sav, hold on, Hennery,” said the grocery man, as his eyes became dim, “You go out and call that soldier back and tell him he is a friend of mine.". By gum, I never felt so much like a pirate in my life. You are right. The old soldiers are not to blame for taking in a little too much benzine once in a while. If we were all bunged up, and had no homes of our own, and were looked upon by a good many people as though they thought it was time we died and were got out of the way, we would get biling drunk, and paint the town red. Why, when these same soldiers enlisted, and were quartered in town, or were passing through on their way to the front, we used to think it was darned" smart when they got on a tear and m de things howl, and we would have lynched a policeman that tried to arrest the boys. I had forgot that these were the same boys, these old fellows that go limping around. Hennery, you have learned me a lesson, and’i shall be proud hereafter to see you kind to an old soldier, even if he is drunk, and if your pa says any more about bringing disgrace on the family by being seen with old soldiers, I will hit him in the ear and twit him with being a sutler in the army.” “Well, that is all right,” said the bad boy, as he started to go; “but don’t you ever act sassy again when an old soldier comes in here to get warm; and if he wants a plug of tobacco and hasn’t got the money, you let him have it, just as though he owned a block of buildings, and if he forgets to pay for it, I will bring in coal or saw wood for you to pay for it,” and Hennery went out whistling “We’ll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes march ng home,” and then he explained that the song was very popular a few years ago, when people were so glad to have the soldiers come home that some of the best citizens got drunk.— Peck’s Sun.

Window Gardening.

Perhaps every one is not aware that the coldest place for plants at night is at a window, just whe e the plant stand is stationed. All dwellings are not new, and all new ones are not proof against the attacks of cold. In old houses'the windows become loose with the wear and tear of years. There are cracks and crevices where a small current of air penetrates, and where the frost steadily creeps in and seizes the green leaves. To guard against this, paste a narrow slip of paper over every crevice that admits a passage of air from without. The unsoiled margin of newspapers is good for this purpose, as th 6 texture is light and thin and easily adheres to the wood. Give it a trial, but do not select a cold freezing day for this w-ork. This saves the trouble of moving the plants at night, and assures their safety in veyy cold weather. Our climate is subject to sudden and unlooked for changes, and often one night will destroy a whole winter’s care, and ruin hopeful prospects, when we think our security good. It is well to be prepared for these emergencies of our latitude. Some complain that their plants grow- spindling and do not bloom. One fault is too much heat and too much water; when this is the case they will grow sickly, and we often hear the remark, “I can’t keep plants, they don’t do well.” You want strong but grow thy plants to secure beauty and bloom. Every day when plants are watered they should be turned, thus they can be kt jt even and shapely, by allowing every side the advantage of the sun. A slip will grow during the winter and become a large flowering plant if watered and well cared for.— Floral Instructor.

French Schools.

A prominent feature of France is the attention which is paid to education. Between 1870 and 1881,16,678 schools have been erected, at an average cost of $2,600. In a recent statement M. Jules Ferry said, in vindication of the money .spent on education by the Government, that there was not a village church but cost SB,000, and that the school was of equal value. Twenty years ago the ambition was to erect churches. Now it is to erect schools. In' the course of ten years it is expected that 40,000 schools will be erected throughout the country, at a cost of $60,000,000 to the localities and $140,000,000 to the state. In the event of any parish proving contumacious the Prefects are invested with compulsory authority. The school buildings are to be modeled after the best patterns of those of England, Saxony, Belgium and Wurtemburg, and the value.of the playground is much insisted upon. There can be no two opinions as to the value of education to the republic, but it will be a misfortune if education is divorced from religion. —New York Herald.

Window Plants.

Creeping plants are not half enough used for house decoration. What can be prettier than a window with a pot in which scarlet tropteolum has been trained up a stake some six feet high on each side of it, the top ■ shoots of the plants brought across and attached to each other so as to form an arch ? Clematis can be so treated with advantage; it ought to grow to the desired height under the gardener’s care, and only be brought in when in full beauty, as the conditions of light and air in a dwelling house are generally against quickgrowing plants.— Exchange. Hope is a flatterer, but the most unright of all parasites; for she frequents the poor man’s hut as well as the palace of his superior.— Shenstone.

HUMOR.

Jsbd up—A weather vane. The Indian ring—A war-whoop. News of the week—Health bulletins The chord of sympathy is often best expressed by a cord of wood. None but the most inhuman wouj<l think of pulling down the blind. "Twtnel.3, twinkle, little star. How we wonder wha: you are.” . Wand’ring trackless space about. Does your mother know your route? -■Somerville-Journal. A wife is called a better half because I a man had better half her than not half her. P. S.—ls you don’t get on to this at first you may do so halfterward.— Merchant and Traveler. A good sister was seen staggering home last Sunday night, and when asked, to explain it she replied, “We have all been taking a pretty heavy sacrament, but I didn’t get over a pint, as the preacher communed with the jug first. Talk about me being full 1 you ought to see Sister Humpier.— Arkansas Herald. Together they were looking over the paper. “Oh, my, how funny,” said she. “What is it?” he asked. “Why, here’s an advertisement that says, *No reasonable offer refused.’” “What’s so odd about that?” “Nothing, nothing,” she replied, trying to blush, “only those are exactly my sentiments.” “Pray, my good man,” said a judge to an Irishman who was a witness in a trial, “what did pass between you and the prisoner?” “Oh, then, plase your lordship,” said Pat, “sure I sees Phelim atop of the wall. ‘Pa.idyl’ says he. ‘What?’ says I. ‘Here,’ says he. ‘Where?’says I. ‘Whisht!’ says he. ‘ Hush!’ says I. And that’s all, plase your lordsnip. ” A lady subscriber wants to know how to catch a husband. We have had no experience in this kind of sport personally, as we are unmarried; but we have known a husband to be caught by his wife as he was leaving a bar-room. From the animated conversation that ensued it seemed to a casual observer that the catching was very exciting sport.— Oil City Derrick. Did you ever think that when we get to heaven—if we do get there—most professional gentlemen will be thrown out of employment? The doctor will have nothing to do, because everybody will be well; the lawyer will have to take his sign down and seek some honest employment, because there will be no quarrels and no litigation; and the minister can’t preach his old sermons any more, because the people will be too good to listen to them. Some writer recently said that women don’t make puns; but they do. A family bought an anti-clinker stove. Finding that it did not work well they exchanged it for some old china. A visitor, looking at the china, re narked that it was very fine, and that it must have been handed down by the family’s ancestors. “Y’es,” said the young lady of the family promptly, “it is some that came down to us from Aunty Clinker. ” An Irishman was once returning from a Donnybrook fair when his horse ran away, broke loose from the cart and pitched Pat into the ditch. There he slept until mprning, when a neighbor came along, who, waking him, said: “Is that you, Patrick Moriarty?” “I don’t know whither it be or not,” replied Pat, looking around. “If I am Patrick Moriarty, I’ve lost a pair of good horses; if I’m not Patrick Moriarty I’ve found a good cart.” “My son has the elements of a good business man in him,” said a gentleman to a friend whom he met on Fifth avenue. “How so?” “Why he can sign several men’s names so natural that they couldn’t tell them from their own.” “Indeed. By the way, here is a note against you which I wish to collect.” “I never gave it.” “But your son sold it to me.” “oh, yes.” (Sotto voce) — “The scoundrel’s getting too dog-gasted smart. ” — Gilhooley’s Etchings.

The Managing Editor of a St. Louis Paper.

When a very mad man rushes into the St. Louis Chronicle office with a club and expresses in emotional tones a disposition to annihilate somebody, he is politely referred to Miss Fannie Bagby, the managing editor. It is not hard to imagine the sensations of a person, frothing at the mouth and thirsting for a human life, upon being introduced into the presence of a shy young girl, whose fair cheeks reek with timid blushes, and in whose sar tied eyes comes the look of a frightened- fawn. The murderous man coilaps s in a chair and his hideous weapon of death falls to the floor. The man thinks himse.f a brute to have thus boisterously thrust himself into the presence of a shrinking woman, and he begins to stutter out apologies, while the beautiful young editor continues blushing and trembling in a delirium of dismay. Yet in reality she is no coward. Emergencies have arisen in which this fair journalist has demonstrated her pluck and agility. It is to her credit that she never goes armed and she will not even adopt the precaution of keeping a pistol in the drawer of her desk. But she can slap and scratch with marvelous dexterity, and huge, hulking men have been seen tottering out of her presence with their eye-balls hanging out on their cheeks and their noses split open like a quail on toast.—Chicago News.

Tell It to the Marines.

A German has constructed a ship “so that, in case of accident to the bow, the . stern half can be instantaneously separated from it and continue the voyage securely and easily on its own account.” All that is now wanted is an improvement on this device by which, wlien there is an accident to any part of the hull, the crew and ] assengers may go aloft and continue their voya <e securely and easily, though the hull may go to the bottom. In ancient times Diogenes wandered around with a lantern looking for an honest man, but didn’t find one; and in these degenerate days the gas man wanders around with a lantern looking for an honest gas-meter with pretty pinch the samp success.